Earlier this year when I was out of India, skint and fairly fed up with life, I reached a nadir when I went shopping at Asda.

Assailed by the noise pollution of barkers offering coupons, retired people on minimum wage slowly hauling boxes out of cages and filling up shelves, a psychogeographic hell juxtaposing Dante with Vegas and driving me insane, I came to the check-out. Continue reading →