↓
 

Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

  • Who?
  • What?
  • Why?
  • Smoke
  • Sarah
  • Tricity
  • Shop
  • FAQ
  • Contact

Post navigation

← Older posts
Newer posts →

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.

Post navigation

← Older posts
Newer posts →

Sifted by Ilk

  • Fiction
  • Non-Fiction
  • London
  • South East London
  • London in 30 Words
  • Smoke A London Peculiar
  • Transport
  • Politics
  • Poems and Parodies

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

It’s A Cafe – Underneath A Boat

Donna Summer takes issue with those complaining that the new glassed-in Cutty Sark has been "renovated too modern".

Feminist Pelicans

Some thoughts on the sexual politics of pedestrian-controlled traffic lights and why Brussels fills me with horror.

Helena Bonham Carter and the Thirty-Foot Elephant

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.

Support Your Local Independent Bookshop

Why Franz Kafka gave up self-publishing.

The Muted Trumpet

The tragic and largely true story of London's pie-eyed pachyderms, and why Henry III's pet jumbo smelt of Brut.

These Weirdoes Are Weird

Why I won’t let you tell me what you think about what I think about David Mitchell.

Kensal Rise, Early In The Morning

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

Boris Johnson versus Dean Cox

A melancholy reflection on whether baklavas, beer, aubergine rasavangy and an 82nd-minute equaliser at Brisbane Road can ever compensate for the existence of Boris Johnson.

Kiss Me Again Like You Mean It

How I sacrificed my chance of being published by Canongate on the rough-hewn altar of truth, dignity and acceptable hyphenation practice, with a small digression into how dogless lesbians keep warm in Canadian snowdrifts.

TK Maxx in Karl-Marx-Stadt

Leipzig 1989 remembered, and why the Dean of St Paul’s can’t hold a candle to the pastor of the Nikolaikirche.

↑