Cucumbers are a girl’s best friend

Due to the sudden demise of Ketamine in East London last year, I found myself in what I can only describe as a smelly and expensive rut with Methadrone.

I went from being unaware and highly complacent in the corner of dark ‘dive’ bars and weird house parties, to being too awake and very aware for days upon end, in even weirder, all day House raves. I don’t even like House music.

Methadrone has a habit of creating some sort of an alter ego. After a few lines I would transform into a highly cocky, energetic GYAL from around the way, obviously full of ‘bants’ and copious amounts of Cockney rhyming slang.

Along with all this I also had a new found love for cucumber. I discovered, with help from a friend that cucumber is actually the best thing ever whilst on a Meth binge, it’s like the Swiss Army knife for Meth addicts! It acts as some type of nutrition, although the last thing you want to do is eat. It quenches that undeniable, indescribable cotton mouth and (my favourite) the shitty Meth headaches you get after being awake for almost a week? Well… it’s cures those as well. I swear for about 5 months you wouldn’t see me without a cucumber either in my mouth or rubbing it on the side of my sore head!

Sore nose, and snotty clothes I was living the dream for a good while. I had endless amounts of energy. I became even more adventurous, which led to rummaging though bins and finding sweet things to dress up in on the way to the next party. Where I would try my best to move to the dulcet tones of house, for a few days. When I’d finally try and sleep I couldn’t because I’d have a jarring, repetitive beat travelling around my brain, which conse- quently led to, you guessed it, more Meth! Any way my classy Meth dream came to an end when I decided to travel to sunny California in search for my first true love… weeeed! A friend and I managed to land a job trimming in the mountains and to be honest I didn’t think about Meth once. That was until I was off the plane in San Fran- sisco, where I surrounded by sweet crack heads with pink hair and no shoes. Then I remembered, hey! I want to get fucked. Unfortunately for me I was a bit behind on the old Breaking Bad, so when asking people I’d meet “do you know where I can get any Meth”, I would get responses like “ya’ll girl you gotta quit that shit” which re- ally confused me… So it’s cool to smoke crack but Meth is a big no-no? Seen.

It wasn’t for about a week, whilst sitting on a greyhound that I clocked! What a fool I had been…of course! Meth anywhere else other than Europe must translate to Crystal Meth. That definitely was not what I was after. It did dawn on me how much of a ‘nitty’ I must of seemed, not that I really cared. With my new found knowledge all I’d have to do was stop abbreviating and before long I would have a nice bag of Methadrone in my hand.

I was wrong. Turns out no one knows what the fuck Meth or Methadrone is anywhere apart from east London and maybe (so I’ve heard) in the deepest, darkest pits of underground techno raves in Berlin.

Funnily enough the next town over, from where I had been working had a huge CRYSTAL Meth problem. Gormless men and women with holes in their faces traipsed the streets shouting at their kids and at us, the new influx of stoned ado- lescent trimmers who had come to work the season. Angry Crystal Meth heads! I wasn’t about to ask anyone here or even attempt to explain the difference between the two, instead I got stoned, stoned beyond belief, Meth could wait. In fact after a month and a half there I had forgotten about the stuff. I arrived back to London mid November, well slept and a stone heavier. I stunk of weed, it was brilliant, literally everything, my clothes, shoes, which was a nicer smell than I had acquired before. No more house raves, no more blowing my nose in carrier bags, a Times New Roman of a human.

Anyway the moral of the story is Ketamine needs to return and Meth needs to go back to Israel or wherever it was created. It doesn’t help plants grow, they lied to you. It makes your nose sore and your clothes smell. And at least when we were all on K we went to bed!