PWP South East London – Page 3 – Danger: Void Behind Door

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.

Sifted by Ilk

Fiction
Non-Fiction
London
South East London
London in 30 Words
Smoke A London Peculiar
Transport
Politics
Poems and Parodies

The whiteboard at Southgate station says services are normal on all lines except the Central; on the Central, it says, they are good.

Serendipity Doo-Dahs

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".

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.

Paddington Chews It Off

Why brown bears don't make good housemates and Judy Brown has no use for oven gloves.

Two Olympic Haikus

He smiles to greet them;
The shoulder-mounted toddler
Says click on the link.

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.

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.

Danger: Void Behind Door

A brief rumination on the fickleness of both women and space-time, and the possibility that access to some sort of infinite primordial darkness can be gained from the southbound Bakerloo Line platform at Waterloo.

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.

Going Back To Old Kent Road

How Monopoly stifles the very instincts that should engender success by insisting council planning departments impose draconian building regulations that allow for the construction of nothing but small green houses or big red hotels.

I Was Just Trying To Be Nice

Across the road is a nail salon, then a jeweller’s, a florist’s, and – I stare at the words above the next doorway: Divine Money, Financial Services. Why is that so familiar? Obviously it’s the sort of name you remember, but – where would I be remembering it from?