Thrupenny bits

This is how how some people think of London:



For me, rhyming slang should have been included in that list. One of the things I was most looking forward to when moving down here was hearing the cryptic friendly banter [what, not the sky-high rent and beer prices, crime and dirt? London Ed.]. To my disappointment, until last week I don't think I'd heard any. Admittedly, I don't think that there are any Pearly Kings working in my research unit and I need to get down the East End more to boost my chances. But anyway, one evening last week I heard some casual slang. And not only that, it was directed at me.

I'd been playing 5 a side and was walking back to the house. I only live a few minutes away from the sports centre so hadn't bothered getting changed out of my footy kit but it was a cold night so I had my coat on over the top. This meant that my fine legs were on broad display (and from the back it might have looked like I was wearing nothing under the coat. Nice image eh folks?). So I'm walking down a dark street in Brixton and there's a group of guys at the other end. Head down Willis, walk quickly by. As I approached, one of them shouts, "Here, I'd think about covering up your fackin' bacon 'n eggs mate!". How rude!

Community service

The short walk from Brixton tube to my house is usually pretty interesting, whatever the time or day. My favourite regular character is undoubtedly the lady who sits outside Iceland selling homemade artworks. She plays the comb (a dying art!) and has a tube of Pringles with beans in or something for percussion. Her works are all brightly coloured pictures of animals, often incorporating use of reflective silver paper. She's great. When we were tidying up our house recently we found one of them that was presumably bought by our landlady - I'll put a picture up on here.

Then there are the many regular preachers out spreading the word. One woman in particular is very impressive - the volume and projection that she manages really is something. A one-off highlight was the topless gentlemen who had a snake coiled around the top of his head. There is also of course the most widely known feature of Brixton high street: the drug dealers. A walk home isn't complete without at least a couple of whistles or mumbled "Skunkweedpills?"

But last night was pretty memorable, even for Brixton. It was about 2130 and I'd popped out to the shop. On my way back I got the usual and predictable offers of illegal substances (I often wear a hoodie on purpose - it's amusing to see how many more offers I can get when I am wearing it). But I was also stopped three times by:

1. a guy telling me he had run out of petrol and could I give him 85p to get some? No, sorry, I could not.

2. 100m further on another guy stopped me. I said I had no cash and he looked really offended. He just wanted to know where he had put his beer. I said I'm sorry, I don't know. He then spotted that the church was open and told me he was going in there. Ok. Bye.

3. Not again - I just want to get home! This time a woman crouching on the floor calls me over. Oh God...what kind of trap am I being lured into here? What kind of fuckery is this? As I had rounded the corner I had got my phone out of my pocket and the front was lit up. She asked if I had a torch. "No, it's my phone" [Great work Willis - why not just hand it right over now?] "I need a torch. I've lost my nose stud. Help me look for it". As it turned out, she really had just lost her nose stud. So we both ended up crouching down looking for it in the feeble half-light provided by my phone. And I found it! Well done me.

I got home with no further escapades.

Forest Whitaker is a great actor. The way he gets his eye to do that thing is amazing.

Happy New Year etc etc.

All go around here at the moment isn't it?

For wont of anything new to write about, I'll continue flogging the lookalike donkey. As I entered the rather excellent Clapham Tandoori on Friday, a waiter said 'It's the guy from Oasis!' I think he meant Bonehead.