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Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

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The Dolly Parton High-Wire Act

Danger: Void Behind Door

In much the same way that the Shin-Hotaka Ropeway in Takayama takes those with a head for heights up the third-tallest peak in Japan, London’s new cable car will take people from Newham to a car park near North Greenwich station.

A Greenwich Nocturne

Danger: Void Behind Door

A philosophical taxi driver considers whether a pick-up can actually be said to truly “exist” if he doesn’t have the postcode for his satnav.

Mr Chambers’ Coffee House

Danger: Void Behind Door

I try to get to the bottom of Blackheath but just end up having an overpriced (though very nice) muffin.

It’s A Cafe – Underneath A Boat

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

Farewell to Fitzalan Street

Danger: Void Behind Door

Early morning nudity on the 07:03 from Slade Green, and how Hubert the Inflexible Frenchman left me unable to lift heavy weights for six months.

The World Comes To Deptford

Danger: Void Behind Door

The world’s largest cruise liner visits Deptford but refuses to tell anyone.

Crawling Up The Mile End Road

Danger: Void Behind Door

Why buses, naked women and steamed puddings are synonymous in the minds of most middle-aged men, and why Boris’s obsession with helplessly drunk teenagers is so far proving a good thing.

Henry’s Plinth

Danger: Void Behind Door

Henry Moore’s sculpture returns to Greenwich Park just after I’ve made lots of fuss about nothing to impress a French girl.

We Need To Talk About Neddy

Danger: Void Behind Door

A five-year-old labrador that was swept up in the excitement of the 2011 London riots lives to regret looting Primark.

Feminist Pelicans

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

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Sifted by Ilk

  • Fiction
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“Do I look like someone who needs a sorbet-maker?” he dolefully asks the bleary-eyed flotsam piled up on the N3’s stairs as birthday gifts are passed between strangers for appraisal.

Serendipity Doo-Dahs

Iain and Will have a Cup of Tea

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.

Two Olympic Haikus

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

A Miscellany of Despair

How the National Maritime Museum is providing new opportunities for French people to shrug and go "bof".

Taxi for Mr Johnson

How the removal of bendy buses on route 507 inspired a new TfL competition to redesign the wheel in time for 2012.

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

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?

Jonathan, David, Carol and Me

Why David Beckham is a true gent, Jonathan Ross can do no wrong, and Carol Thatcher will be getting her rice and peas delivered by Ocado in future.

Tory Tourette’s

A night with Chris Addison causes me to wonder whether the world would truly be a better place if George Osborne got a job in Dixons.

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.

The Ecstasy of Michael Gove

I stare bleakly into the abyss and wonder whether the election of Boris Johnson is all my fault (it's not, it's all yours).

The Twelve Days of Smoke

Partridges? In London? Sorry, guv. Do you a nice pigeon, though. Sorry it's a bit wet.

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