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Smoke 06

Jun 162014
 
Please Pay At The Till

by Steve Lake
But maybe my memory is playing tricks, for working at Foyles in the 80s wasn’t unlike a trip on some fairly serious hallucinogenic drugs. There was, for example, the story of the disgruntled employee sowing seeds into the specially moistened carpets of the rarely-visited Philosophy Department on a Friday evening and returning on Monday to find a small field of cress, ready to be added to his sandwiches. [read more…]

Jul 312013
 
Stepping Across The Thames

by Matt Haynes
Out here, the river’s still allowed to undo its buttons twice a day and slob out across the mud with primordial glee. For one of the Thames’s more discombobulating quirks is that it’s wider upstream than down, where it’s been artificially banked and trammelled – no one paddles on the beach outside Lambeth Palace any more, not since Mr Bazalgette’s embankments went up in the 1860s and the Archbishop lost his deckchair concession. [read more…]

Jul 012013
 
Urban Intervention No. 51

On sunny lunchtimes, dress up as a giant duck and then sit by the lake in St James’s Park throwing torn off chunks of Ginsters pasties at tourists.

Feb 042013
 
Who's Going To Drive You Home Tonight?

Who’s Going To Drive You Home Tonight? by Jude Rogers
I feel snug in the back, so I ask him his name. “Reg. Pleased to meet you. And you?” I tell him and we talk about that song by the Beatles. We share details for a while, give each other pocket-sized versions of our life stories: his family in Wales, how long I’ve been in the city. Then I ask him how long he’s been out here. How long he’s had the badge. How long it’s been since he had his blue book. [read more…]

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Nov 192012
 
Urban Intervention No. 34

Wait until London Zoo has just shut, then stand outside the main entrance dressed as a bear, rattling the gate and tapping an imaginary wristwatch. To make it more convincing, carry an HMV bag in one paw.

Oct 012012
 

Beside the track at Richmond, a large stuffed bear slumps against the wall and stares at the gravel. “Mister Bear” says the aerosol scrawl, an arrow pointing at his head.