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Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

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A Miscellany of Despair

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

And What’s With The Big Boat?

Danger: Void Behind Door

Is transpontine mating safe, or is the unholy union of a Bethnal Green girl and a Bermondsey boy likely to produce some sterile mule-like creature, useful only as a beast of burden or underworld goon?

Taxi for Mr Johnson

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

Anti-Zizzi, Anti-Pasti

Danger: Void Behind Door

Protests regarding the plethora of new chain restaurants at Greenwich pierhead stall when fossil records show that chickens first emerged on the small Greek island of Nandos.

The Unbelievable Niceness of Penge

Danger: Void Behind Door

How only Penge Homebase, out of all south-east London’s DIY superstores, seems to have grasped that Christmas is an annual event.

A Higher Evil

Danger: Void Behind Door

Are independent bookshops their own worst enemy, or just my own worst enemy?

The Spherical Love of French Teenagers

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

You’re So Quiet You Sound Like Aldershot

Danger: Void Behind Door

Why it’s not just the lack of an internationally renowned art gallery, good tapas and an occasionally murderous independence movement that distinguishes Leyton from Bilbao.

London Prepares

Danger: Void Behind Door

The 2011 London riots: while Tottenham is in flames, Chipping Norton is in Oxfordshire.

A Riot Of Their Own

Danger: Void Behind Door

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.

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Sifted by Ilk

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

“He’s asked me to sing in a proto-punk band,” said the man in the suit on the phone in the sun on Piccadilly. “I don’t even know what that means.”

Serendipity Doo-Dahs

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...

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.

The Dolly Parton High-Wire Act

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

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.

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.

The Twelve Days of Smoke

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

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.

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.

48 Hours In Vigo

In which I use a small trampoline to explain how Sir Francis Drake would have dealt with Ryanair’s “no aeroplane” interpretation of "no frills", and we find out what Galicians keep in their hold-alls.

I Was Just Trying To Be Nice

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?

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