If you’ve lived in London for very long it can often feel as if you’ve ‘been-there-done-that-and-somehow-paid-double’.
Romantic advocates of London life, like Samuel Johnson, Jack The Ripper and Robert Elms, might persuade you that one can explore London’s streets forever and always find something new and amazing; a bespoke sock-maker off the Kings Road perhaps, a place where Mods congregate for elevenses, the Soho pub were Paul McCartney wrote Say Say Say…
But often these things just don’t compensate us anymore as they might have once. The light relief is outweighed in the extreme these days by our gridlocked bicycle lanes, our repeating cartoon-background of starbucks and tescos, starbucks and tescos, starbucks and tescos, grinning policemen with guns and some of the worlds most unfinished football stadia.
In Shepherds Bush there is a sign that says: Dog poop must be removed. Human poop, however, can stay.
Having said all that, the sight of this SUV (Symbol of Urban Vanity? ), one of those pointlessly huge 4x4s the rich *must* drive, clamped, and on the morning Gordon Brown announced he was going to tax them off the road, was very uplifting. I’d have paid money and queued, quite frankly. And I smile every time I see this picture.
1. You find yourself screaming at a Leicester Square street merchant: “The Bloody Pope Does Not Smoke Dope.”
2. You walk over Westminster Bridge and see only people in your way.
3. You’re no longer scared of angry tramps and crazies.
4. If you see any grass at all you have walk on it.
5. The eccentric tube driver says something amusing over the tannoy and you just wish he’d shut up.
6. You finally smile at those postcards German tourists buy, the ones with the breasts that look like mice.
7. You find you finally have a neighbour who talks to you and that actually they are not that interesting.