Why won’t Boris Johnson shut up about the Cereal Cafe?

He’s actually obsessed

Womanising human dirigible Boris Johnson has an obsession with Brick Lane’s Cereal Cafe. When Boris isn’t being an MP and the Mayor (why do we let that slide? Seriously how does that work?) and figuring out how to pull the Tory leadership rug from under George Osborne’s feet, he generally spends his time talking about the Cereal Cafe in the most onanistic terms available. Here he is in The Telegraph, after he’s rambled on about Pliny for a good 7000 words:

As it happened, Channel Four indeed sent a reporter to cover the story of the Cereal Killer Café in Shoreditch – and he generally monstered the poor entrepreneurs. He was scathing about charging £2.50 minimum for a bowl of cereal; he mocked the proprietors – a gentle pair of bearded hipsters – for their pretensions to gentrify the area, and suggested that local people would not be able to eat there. He put the boot in, and I am not at all sure he was right to do so.

Let’s ignore the fact he’s described a couple of complete chancers who flog bowls of cereal at like £4.50 a pop in a borough where half the children live in poverty as “gentle bearded hipsters” and keep going.

Here he is using his mates to score cheap political points:

What you have got with these types of anti-gentrification protests is people who are really protesting against the same sorts of people who they once were themselves. They are themselves, bourgeois left-wing, nose-ringed yuppies who have gone into these areas and taken them over and who suddenly see other bourgeois types arriving and they can’t stand that they are no longer pioneers [so] they adopt this ghastly ethic of Corbynista revolt and name-calling and damaging premises… I went down to the cafe in question and had some breakfast there. I think it was Coco Pops or Fruit Loops. I’m not sure what it was but it was delicious.

Try and get the image of Boris, in his suit and tie, with his hair like it’s been combed with fireworks, eating a fivers worth of Coco Pops or Fruit Loops (and how can you get those mixed up? They’re completely different?) surrounded by gentle hipsters, and read what he said yesterday: 

Where else would you find ginger-bearded hipsters selling Froot Loops for £3.80 per bowl? Where else but London would you find a restaurant where you are served in total darkness by blind waiters, the contention being that you will somehow taste your food better? Where else would you find a cocktail bar in a public toilet?

Because that is what makes us great apparently, the people who sell overpriced shit to tourists. Not taking an Uber in July and shouting the words to Angels at people at bus stops, not the glass-grey water of the Thames, not our history, not the architecture, no, it’s the guys at the Cereal Cafe.

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