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Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

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The Scowl Beneath The Cowl

Danger: Void Behind Door

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.

Unsolicited Justin Bieber

Danger: Void Behind Door

A hairdressers in Greenwich reassures passers-by that their hair will only be cut if they request it.

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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

“Sorry to bother you,” he says, wandering across, “but I need 73p for the train.” He’s vague, oddly distant, but knows precisely what it takes to get out of Peckham.

Serendipity Doo-Dahs

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.

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.

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".

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.

Farewell to Fitzalan Street

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.

And What’s With The Big Boat?

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?

Is This What People Do?

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.

Crawling Up The Mile End Road

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.

A Miscellany of Despair

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

For The Greater Good

A response to UKIP in not the only language its supporters don't understand: poetry.

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