Black mass

On the day: 
06/02/2013 

On the way: 
I feel his dark presence, the massive hulk standing sufficiently close in behind me at the bus stop for the hairs on the back of my neck to shuffle nervously, like rats that are getting a sense that their vessel is doomed to go down. 
His smoky breath creeps across my right shoulder as the bus pulls in and his gravitational pull tugs at already unnerved fluff, bringing it to attention. 
Perhaps if I step aside. 
He rolls past, silent as a Death Star. 'Makaveli' proclaim the letters on his black tracksuit, an M emblazoned on the coat of arms that adorns the back and on the right buttock of his matching bottoms. He raises his cigarette in his huge hand and it disappears into the black hole in his hood where his face could be, swallowing even the light from its burning tip, and he takes one last drag before casting it to the pavement and boarding the bus, but his power has been broken. 
Makaveli? Puh-lease. What power have the dark forces when they invoke the name of Machiavelli. 
Then spell it wrong. 

On the pod: 
Take Me Away - Avril Lavigne 

On the front page: 
Boris: My plan to build million homes (London Evening Standard)