The Ladies’ Pond
by Alison Marr
The swimming ladies of the Highgate pond are various.
Some are old and lean with hard thin arms breaking November ice,
Others are buxom with low slung breasts shifting as they move.
[read more…]
Apr 172014
Apr 142014
by Matt Haynes
Hedonism, of course, was the name of the game, and pretty much anything went. One night, Boy George nearly brought Duran Duran’s career to a premature end when, clutching a garish mojito, he hurtled down the slope using Simon le Bon as a toboggan; luckily for the course of popular music, the chubby Brummie took it in his pantalooned stride. [read more…]
Apr 112014
JACOBVS SECVNDVS, Trafalgar Square by Matt Haynes
Don’t be fooled by the Roman garb. This effete nob with his toga tossed casually over his shoulder – part Brideshead, part Duran Duran circa Planet Earth – and his tunic hoicked over his knee like a Year 11 schoolgirl at a bus stop in Watford is, in fact, King James II, his body languidly bowed like a small fey banana and his upper limbs polygonically disposed as if to remind us that, truly, this was the noblest teapot of them all. [read more…]
Apr 072014
“Did you know they found a mammoth under there?” She nodded across at the derelict Drummond Street entrance to Euston station I was trying to photograph. “A dead one, obviously.”
Apr 032014
by Howard Colyer
Goalkeeper’s fumble,
Bywater can’t hold the ball,
then the rest follows.
Mar 312014
Beneath Banham by David Slater
Soon such a reputation surrounded Upper Banham that many began to prefer the longer walk to Manor House or the Number 29 to get them to town. A few weeks later, another commuter rushed, screaming, out of nowhere and into a group of late-night revellers. She remembered nothing and the authorities insisted she had been the victim of a fit, but after that only the brave, foolish or ignorant went near the place. [read more…]
Mar 272014
by David Riddell
What’s this? I’m… I’m falling. That’s what I’m doing. Must be. Wasn’t expecting this. Totally outside my experience. Don’t think I did anything to precipitate it, not that I can think of. Well now. I’ve done some daft stuff, but – nothing like this. I wonder what’s going on? [read more…]
Mar 242014
by Christopher Owen
She rummaged in her bag for cigarettes; then, remembering that smoking was not permitted, put them back. Her bag was always tidy. Mel’s, on the other hand, was always a mess. Stephanie had seen her trying to find a lost earring, pulling everything out onto her desk: old tissues, loose change, Tampax, brushes, mascara, lipsticks, sellotape, door keys, half-empty bottles of Evian. That had been the Friday before Christmas. [read more…]
Mar 202014
by Matt Haynes
Prompted by yesterday’s announcement by Grant Shapps – that things would all be a lot better if we just got on with our drinking and bingo and let them sort out running the country – we look back at our response to a similar initiative from the Evening Standard during the heady last day’s of Ken Livingstone’s mayoralty: a hard-hitting series in which irony did battle with hypocrisy for the soul of Standard editor Veronica Wadley. [read more…]
Mar 172014
Please Do Not Touch The Walrus No. 8
A fantastic new series in which we attempt to catalogue some of the amazing things you can’t do in our fabulous capital city. Today: practising any form of golf in Russia Dock. [see more…]