I always thought that concept of Mr or Mrs Right was quite esoteric, different from one person to the next, but apparently I was wrong. Ladies (or indeed Men) of London, Mr Right has been found! He is an actual person and he’s riding the Overground just looking for love. Okay so he might not cut the dashing figure that you quite had in mind, his paint smeared Reebok hoody pulled down over his face may not immediately broadcast that he’s a “keeper” but the sign says what the sign says and we should respect that.
Spotted by David Chant
London’s favourite subterranean railway system is 150 years old today but it does not look a day over 120. To celebrate this momentous achievement why not peruse our gallery of The Tube looking it’s best HERE
The latest Bond film sees our eponymous hero fighting his way through the Underground during rush hour in pursuit of a dangerous man hell bent on death and destruction. One of the stations that they used for this sequence, I noticed, was actually Bond Street ( although they’d changed the signs to make it somewhere else instead). In the scene Bond somehow manages to push his way through the press of commuter bodies and work his way down the successive carriages. This is when the film lost me. I thought that this new age of Bond was all about gritty realism, about grounding the stories in something that feels like the real world. All that was thrown away when they ignored the fact that anybody behaving like that on the train during rush hour would most likely have been stamped to the ground by whooping commuters, dragged off at the next station and then ritually fed to an escalator as a sacrifice to appease the delay gods.
I’ve seen it happen.
Spotted by Viktor Németh
What a beautiful festive tableau this is. Two Santas out on the town, one santa helping the other after eating one too many mince pies by conscientiously holding the others hat for him to use as a rudimentary vomit receptacle. It’s enough to melt even the most humbug of hearts.
Spotted by Damian Barr
Busker’s Sign, Liverpool Street
I like buskers, really I do. If you’ve lived in London for a long time you get to recognise some of them. There’s the guy that sits on Hungerford Bridge who tunelessly plucks the 3 strings his guitar has with an old biro. I always give him change but have never hung around long enough to find out whether his ramshackle playing style ever organises itself into something more conventionally recognisable as music. Then there’s the guy who performs alongside the king of Anthropomorphism amongst household appliances, Henry the Hoover, playing a saxophone.
This busker has created a sign thanking people in French, Spanish and then two other languages that he’s mysteriously covered up with a piece of Post-It note bearing the legend “Eurovoir” …which I’m assuming is some new pan-European way of saying goodbye.