The London Underground. It's dusty, it's grimy and it's full of people's body odours that I care not to sample. If i wanted your armpit shoved up against my chin, i'd be in a relationship with you. Then there are the breed of people who think it's acceptable to eat curries/pasties/burgers in such a confined place. This was my horrific experience recently:
What events like the Royal Wedding, the London Olympics and Wimbledon show are that, deep down, we are in fact amongst that most genuine and charming people out there. Give us a bottle of Pimms and we'll stumble and knock over our metaphorical walls. Give us a bit of sun as a remedy to our coldness, and our solar-powered souls are reinvigorated.
It may not be everyone's choice of how to spend the hottest evening of the year, but on Monday night Boris Johnson gave a speech at the British Bankers' Association dinner. Hot yes, hotbed of progressive thought, no. But Boris' speech nonetheless got my blood boiling. In taking a swipe at the proposal for a European Financial Transaction Tax - every City fat cat's favourite bug bear at the moment - he chronically misrepresented how it works.
There is something special about having a song named after you. Unless your name is Kim and you had an on-off relationship with Eminem, of course. But for a song to be about a city, well, you know that there's got to be something special about that place, something worth experiencing for yourself right?