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Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

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Danger: Void Behind Door

Why Franz Kafka gave up self-publishing.

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.

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.

TK Maxx in Karl-Marx-Stadt

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

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.

48 Hours In Vigo

Danger: Void Behind Door

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.

Queue Here For Theresienstadt

Danger: Void Behind Door

A trip to Prague, and how the human soul has been replaced by a 64GB memory card.

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.

Barney’s Only Disruptive Because He’s Bored…

Danger: Void Behind Door

After a surveyor’s report says that the social cost of levelling the playing fields of Eton might be incompatible with Tory spending plans, David Cameron tells a bright kid from the Walworth Road not to throw his knife and hoodie away just yet.

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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

“Is this London?” she pouts, pressing a chocolatey face to the tagged and leaking window as their train waits at Worcester Park. “Daddy, when is it going to be London?”

Serendipity Doo-Dahs

The Twelve Days of Smoke

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

The Unbelievable Niceness of Penge

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

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.

Anti-Zizzi, Anti-Pasti

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.

A Public Disservice

In which I am forced to bribe an elderly man in Wolverhampton with a spongey dessert in order to demonstrate to Richard Branson that trains are not planes and that you only need choice if the system has failed.

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 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...

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.

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).

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