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Danger: Void Behind Door

Writing by Matt Haynes

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The World Comes To Deptford

Danger: Void Behind Door

The world’s largest cruise liner visits Deptford but refuses to tell anyone.

Henry’s Plinth

Danger: Void Behind Door

Henry Moore’s sculpture returns to Greenwich Park just after I’ve made lots of fuss about nothing to impress a French girl.

We Need To Talk About Neddy

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

Feminist Pelicans

Danger: Void Behind Door

Some thoughts on the sexual politics of pedestrian-controlled traffic lights and why Brussels fills me with horror.

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?

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.

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.

London Prepares

Danger: Void Behind Door

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

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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

In a trackside back garden grainy with dusk, somewhere between Dagenhams East and Heathway, a solitary fat boy steadies himself, uncloses his eyes, and shoots one final, match-winning basket.

Serendipity Doo-Dahs

For The Greater Good

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

Mr Chambers’ Coffee House

I try to get to the bottom of Blackheath but just end up having an overpriced (though very nice) muffin.

These Weirdoes Are Weird

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

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.

The Peckham Panama

How a vision of cauliflowers being ferried from Epsom to Rotherhithe led to the construction of the (Not Particularly) Grand Surrey Canal and eventually Burgess Park.

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.

London Prepares

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

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.

A Higher Evil

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

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.

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