With the pound weaker than a hamster’s sneeze right now, do your bit by letting the high street rob Tourist Pal of all his Tourist Pennies. Push him onto Lamb’s Conduit Street, a menswear sanctuary for the well-heeled with J Crew, The Content Store and more to finger through; Redchurch Street, where the ankle-flashers spaff their bucks at Labour and Wait, Barber and Parlour and By Walski; and Bellenden Rd – giggleworthy name, but serious about its selection of indie shops.
Tenner says all that feigning interest in Tourist Pal’s new company-car mileage allowance has you knackered. Time for a spot of liquorin’! Let the immersive madness of Evans And Peel Detective Agency take the strain – a speakeasy bar with added pantomime to keep him entertained. Or, for a far more chilled vibe, it’s gotta be CRATE Brewery’s canalside bar and pizzeria. Always gotta be CRATE.
You legally cannot call yourself a Londoner without having argued over Franco Manca or Fish Wings ‘N Tings with your better half in Brixton Village. That’s a fact, Jack. And therefore, when Tourist Pal approaches your embarrassingly barren fridge for fuel, there is nowhere finer to dine out. Save, maybe, Maltby Street Market, with its brill choice of food traders and bars – a favourite weekend Hyde hideout.
Three ways to navigate London without aimlessly pointing at things and inventing some sort of back story. One, Thames Rockets – the bright red tour speedboats you’ve seen nailing it up the river. Two, the Death and Debauchery tour, a real Ronseal walkabout dealing in murders, spooky ghouls and other grisly/seedy goings on. And three… hey, wait! Whaooooh! Curveball coming in hot! Street Art London is a free app that’ll fill you in on the best bits of graff to eye up in the city, and an ideal one for you and Tourist Pal to follow together. Ahhh, together.
London. Been around bleddy ages. Long enough for cooler historical hotspots than just The Tall River Clock and Queen HQ. Whaddabout Crossbones Garden – the resting site of London’s “outcast dead” through history, such as ye olde prostitutes and medieval paupers? Or Milroy’s of Soho, the oldest (and finest) whisky shop in the capital complete with a vaults bar down below? Finally, you could grab a coffee from Caffé Nero at 79 Tottenham Court Road and smugly unload how Tourist Pal is standing on the site where the final German V2 rocket exploded in WW2 London. Boom, he’s sold.
The skinny-jeaned corpse of 2007 indie is risen and dragging its battered Converse to a venue near you