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Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

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Danger: Void Behind Door

Danger: Void Behind Door

A brief rumination on the fickleness of both women and space-time, and the possibility that access to some sort of infinite primordial darkness can be gained from the southbound Bakerloo Line platform at Waterloo.

Threnody on the Suicide of a Parking Meter in Dagenham Brook, E10

Danger: Void Behind Door

O dark devourer of the driver’s coin,
what broken dreams was this leap meant to fix?
What hope-denuded skyline did enjoin
you to cast off on this East London Styx?

The New Romantic Luge

Danger: Void Behind Door

Hackney’s lost ski-slope, and how Boy George nearly brought Duran Duran’s career to a premature end when, clutching a garish mojito, he hurtled down the dendix piste using Simon le Bon as a toboggan.

Threnody on the Death of a Street Lamp on Lollard Street, SE11

Danger: Void Behind Door

O noble lantern ’neath whose kindly fire
my love and I did oft together lark,
our bodies, lust-engorged, ’twined in desire –
why hast thou gone and left us in the dark?

I Was Just Trying To Be Nice

Danger: Void Behind Door

Across the road is a nail salon, then a jeweller’s, a florist’s, and – I stare at the words above the next doorway: Divine Money, Financial Services. Why is that so familiar? Obviously it’s the sort of name you remember, but – where would I be remembering it from?

Is This What People Do?

Danger: Void Behind Door

The lorries are starting to move now, rumbling across the deck of the James Newman and onto the ramps that shake and ring beneath their tyres. He is supposed to leave too; there is an announcement over the tannoy, every time a ferry docks, forbidding passengers to remain on board.

Iain and Will have a Cup of Tea

Danger: Void Behind Door

Two disconsolate psychogeographers reflect on how some of the ley lines that were dug up to build the Basketball Arena for the 2012 Olympics had been there since the days of King Lud.

Kensal Rise, Early In The Morning

Danger: Void Behind Door

A driver on the last remaining Routemaster service, the 159 from Marble Arch to Streatham, reflects on the relative inflexibility of women and buses.

Eton Mess

Danger: Void Behind Door

How I was abducted by aliens from South Harrow station and had the true nature of Boris Johnson revealed to me after being forced to mate against my wishes.

Helena Bonham Carter and the Thirty-Foot Elephant

Danger: Void Behind Door

How Josephine’s coquettish suggestion that Napoleon surprise her with something long and wrinkly led to a giant elephant being installed in the Place de la Bastille.

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From the top of the bright red climbing frame, the boy with the seventies afro eyes my camera suspiciously; his Staffy cross, paws wobbling on the narrow slats, does likewise.

Serendipity Doo-Dahs

No one likes them, they don’t care

Latest signs indicate an infestation of Tory MPs on Kennington Road; thankfully, they're all taken down again after the election.

The Song of the Olympic Binman

I am a binman for the council
And I walk the back roads,
Searchin’ in the dark for another bag to load...

A Riot Of Their Own

How I had my faith in human nature restored by the people of Sidcup and why toddlers and anarchists should neither be given Sunny Delight nor put in charge of the Northern Line.

The Spherical Love of French Teenagers

An unwelcome discovery on the meridian line makes me question whether padlocks have any role in a loving relationship.

Eton Mess

How I was abducted by aliens from South Harrow station and had the true nature of Boris Johnson revealed to me after being forced to mate against my wishes.

Two Olympic Haikus

He smiles to greet them;
The shoulder-mounted toddler
Says click on the link.

Stepping Across The Thames

How the Archbishop of Canterbury lost his deckchair concession and why trammelling the Thames had its drawbacks. Or a history of London footbridges, if you prefer.

The Scowl Beneath The Cowl

How I felt less badly about being mugged once the Daily Mail had explained that all the misunderstood urban yout’ really want is to be able to park sideways-on to the kerb.

Going Back To Old Kent Road

How Monopoly stifles the very instincts that should engender success by insisting council planning departments impose draconian building regulations that allow for the construction of nothing but small green houses or big red hotels.

The Beer Goes In The Pub

Castration deemed not suitable treatment for 4x4 drivers as smallness of genitalia makes operation too fiddly.

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