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Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

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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.

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.

These Weirdoes Are Weird

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

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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

Oblivious to lunchtime crowds, he strides towards Holborn Circus – sharp suit flashing in the Hatton Garden windows, mobile clenched tight – shouting: “You’re the one who told me you loved me…”

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...

The New Romantic Luge

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.

Ceci n’est pas un Wheelie Bin

René Magritte’s time with LT’s maintenance department didn't last long, as his playful signage at Stratford station provoked not only much philosophical debate in the canteen, but also a major hygiene problem on the southbound Jubilee Line.

These Weirdoes Are Weird

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

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.

The Spherical Love of French Teenagers

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

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.

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?

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.

We Need To Talk About Neddy

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

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