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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

On the 17:10 to Crayford, she suddenly remembers Stockholm, and how he’d smiled when asking her name; and how she’d said “Madeleine”, because she’d known he’d never know it wasn’t.

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 Hungry Cabbie

How Victorian philanthropists strove to fit thirteen grown men into a small green shed without recourse to contortionism, immodesty or facial depilation. And how an ill-advised sausage led to the discovery of south London.

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.

No one likes them, they don’t care

Latest signs indicate an infestation of Tory MPs on Kennington Road; thankfully, they're all taken down again after the election.

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.

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.

A Higher Evil

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

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.

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.

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