London's
Greatest Postmodern Soap Opera: 'Hackney
Conversation Enders'
by Wallace
Runnymede
A recent TV programme
has finally cornered the crowded market of
postmodern London soap operas. Millions of
viewers are tuning in every week; and yet, nobody
seems to have the slightest idea 'wass goin' on?'
in this rather bizarre and challenging television
classic.
I haven't added any
character names. It's more confusing this way!
Ey! Shut it, you plum! Don’t
you blumming understand that bourgeois
logocentrism may be all very well for our Jean-Jacques,
but pity the same can’t be said for you, ey?
I mean, you literally don’t know NUFFINK
about our groundbreakingly innovative
poststructural semiotic collaboration! Nah! Tell
ya something for nuffink, mate… you literally
don’t know NUFFINK!
Eh, wass goin on?
Oi, shut it! Ain’t
NUFFINK going on, Michel… I mean, it’s
just blumming semantics, innit!
Well, let ME blahddy
well tell YOU something for nuffink, mate!
That’s well out of post-Derridean meta-order,
that is!
Oh, is it? Well you can
just shut it and blahhddy well go back to your
poncey old Jean Baudrillard, you can!
Urgh! Unreconstructed
Derrideans these days, I blumming tells ya…
Sorry man, that was well
out of non-order, I mean, it’s just, I just
kind of woke this morning and felt a bit
logocentric, ya know ‘ow it is. I didn’t
mean to say nuffink, I swear!… I mean, end o’
the day, ya can’t say it all at once, can ya!
Oi! Whatchoo doin? Get your
bloody semes off my ‘usband! I’ll
semiotically cloture your gob before you know
what’s coming to ya!
Hm. Another grand narrative,
eh? You bloody unreconstructed pre-Saussurean
foundationalist slag… Wouldn’t expect
any better from the likes o’ you…
positivist, mainstream-Newtonian tosser!
Oi! You take that back!…
And then let me take it back! I mean, at the end of
the day, it’s all dialectical, innit!
No it ain’t… well,
it is as well, innit!
Hm. E’s cruising’
for a bruisin’ e is.
Yeah ‘e is, just
‘is nature. Just can’t ‘elp ‘imself,
can ‘e?
Never changes. It’s
just ‘im.
Oh… oh… oh God!
You… you bloody
bahrstard! NATURE?! Did… did you just make
an ESSENTIALIST COMMENT?!
No, no, listen, er, er, I
swear, Theodor-Hannah, it were just rhetoric. I
mean, I di’n’t say it were actually
true, did ah?
Urgh… y’know what,
this street is going down the bogs. Seriously,
man!
OHHH… down the bogs?!
YOU SHAMELESS TELEOLOGICAL HUSSY! JUST YOU WAIT
TIL I GET YOU ‘OME!
Sorry, mate. You can’t.
Ain’t no such thing as ‘ome. We are
forever rootless, decentred nomadic subjects in
an aching, bleeding, and irredeemably
syntactically rent, semantically dechained,
libidinally disenchanted, non-monadic anti-Kosmos,
wherein…
…
…
‘Ere, ‘e don’t
arf go on, do ‘e?
Pretentious twat.
Hm. Sod it. Let’s go
‘n’ get some blumming chips, Felix.
Also
published at wallacerunnymede.wordpress.com: http://wallacerunnymede.com/2015/08/28/new-postmodern-london-soap-opera-hackney-semiotic-closers/
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