A fat man sits opposite a girl chewing gum. Her leathery arms and legs are crossed and her mouth opens wider than that of a cow chewing cud and shuts faster than an agitated alligator. For forty minutes she has been staring with disgust at the overweight businessman opposite her, who, as she judges from the level of noise exuding his orifices, is having an angry doze. Her brow wrinkles and her chewing slows as his head rolls away from the window on which it had rested, leaving an ovular sweat mark on the glass. They continue onward at speed, past the pubs, factories, self storage companies, and high-rises that punctuate the London skyline.

The next station is Clapham Junction.

He had asked her to wake him at this station, so without hesitation her stilettoed foot swings itself into his pillowy shins. As this jolts him from his raucous nap, the thick gob of yellow saliva, which for the entire journey had been creeping steadily towards his thigh, is sucked in with his shocked, sharp intake of breath, thus causing him to choke momentarily. The girl flinches at each of his hawks of phlegm and lets out a small scream when he sneezes loudly and abruptly into his hand. We leave her running along the carriage, away from the large businessman who has tried to take her manicured fingers in his grotty paw to say thank you for waking him, and focus on a rather handsome pair sitting opposite one another on the Northern line.

He has floppy brown hair, is clutching a leather satchel which bursts with books, papers, pens, photographs, tissues, and fags. His pushes his glasses up his nose gently whilst observing the devotchka in front of him. I have short, black, curly hair, clipped back on one side to reveal three ear piercings, two eyebrow studs and a hole in my nose (usually occupied by a stud). While I pretend to listen to music, a scruffy looking man with a violin hobbles along the aisle asking for money. Of course, everyone refuses him a few pennies, for they know he will only spend it on alcohol and drugs because he is homeless and therefore he is scum to them, despite his musical talent and attempt at a more respectable way of begging (busking). As he reaches that gap in between the handsome pair where time has stood still, the man with the floppy hair decides to assert his masculinity in order to impress me, the devotchka, whom he has already suspected of not actually listening to any music. He stands up.
“Jog on mate, noone’s givin’you anyfin’, ALRIGHT?”
In contrast to what he expected to happen, I jump up, slap the floppy haired man who I had until mere seconds ago wanted to take me to dinner, take his wallet from the pocket where it is poking out, take out a tenner, then take ten from my pocket, hand it to the man with the violin and exit at the next station - Angel.

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A fat man sits opposite a girl chewing gum. Her leathery arms and legs are crossed and her mouth opens wider than that of a cow chewing cud and shuts faster than an agitated alligator. For forty minutes she has been staring with disgust at the overweight businessman opposite her, who, as she judges from the level of noise exuding his orifices, is having an angry doze. Her brow wrinkles and her chewing slows as his head rolls away from the window on which it had rested, leaving an ovular sweat mark on the glass. They continue onward at speed, past the pubs, factories, self storage companies, and high-rises that punctuate the London skyline.

The next station is Clapham Junction.

He had asked her to wake him at this station, so without hesitation her stilettoed foot swings itself into his pillowy shins. As this jolts him from his raucous nap, the thick gob of yellow saliva, which for the entire journey had been creeping steadily towards his thigh, is sucked in with his shocked, sharp intake of breath, thus causing him to choke momentarily. The girl flinches at each of his hawks of phlegm and lets out a small scream when he sneezes loudly and abruptly into his hand. We leave her running along the carriage, away from the large businessman who has tried to take her manicured fingers in his grotty paw to say thank you for waking him, and focus on a rather handsome pair sitting opposite one another on the Northern line.

He has floppy brown hair, is clutching a leather satchel which bursts with books, papers, pens, photographs, tissues, and fags. His pushes his glasses up his nose gently whilst observing the devotchka in front of him. I have short, black, curly hair, clipped back on one side to reveal three ear piercings, two eyebrow studs and a hole in my nose (usually occupied by a stud). While I pretend to listen to music, a scruffy looking man with a violin hobbles along the aisle asking for money. Of course, everyone refuses him a few pennies, for they know he will only spend it on alcohol and drugs because he is homeless and therefore he is scum to them, despite his musical talent and attempt at a more respectable way of begging (busking). As he reaches that gap in between the handsome pair where time has stood still, the man with the floppy hair decides to assert his masculinity in order to impress me, the devotchka, whom he has already suspected of not actually listening to any music. He stands up.
“Jog on mate, noone’s givin’you anyfin’, ALRIGHT?”
In contrast to what he expected to happen, I jump up, slap the floppy haired man who I had until mere seconds ago wanted to take me to dinner, take his wallet from the pocket where it is poking out, take out a tenner, then take ten from my pocket, hand it to the man with the violin and exit at the next station - Angel.

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A fat man sits opposite a girl chewing gum. Her leathery arms and legs are crossed and her mouth opens wider than that of a cow chewing cud and shuts faster than an agitated alligator. For forty minutes she has been staring with disgust at the overweight businessman opposite her, who, as she judges from the level of noise exuding his orifices, is having an angry doze. Her brow wrinkles and her chewing slows as his head rolls away from the window on which it had rested, leaving an ovular sweat mark on the glass. They continue onward at speed, past the pubs, factories, self storage companies, and high-rises that punctuate the London skyline.

The next station is Clapham Junction.

He had asked her to wake him at this station, so without hesitation her stilettoed foot swings itself into his pillowy shins. As this jolts him from his raucous nap, the thick gob of yellow saliva, which for the entire journey had been creeping steadily towards his thigh, is sucked in with his shocked, sharp intake of breath, thus causing him to choke momentarily. The girl flinches at each of his hawks of phlegm and lets out a small scream when he sneezes loudly and abruptly into his hand. We leave her running along the carriage, away from the large businessman who has tried to take her manicured fingers in his grotty paw to say thank you for waking him, and focus on a rather handsome pair sitting opposite one another on the Northern line.

He has floppy brown hair, is clutching a leather satchel which bursts with books, papers, pens, photographs, tissues, and fags. His pushes his glasses up his nose gently whilst observing the devotchka in front of him. I have short, black, curly hair, clipped back on one side to reveal three ear piercings, two eyebrow studs and a hole in my nose (usually occupied by a stud). While I pretend to listen to music, a scruffy looking man with a violin hobbles along the aisle asking for money. Of course, everyone refuses him a few pennies, for they know he will only spend it on alcohol and drugs because he is homeless and therefore he is scum to them, despite his musical talent and attempt at a more respectable way of begging (busking). As he reaches that gap in between the handsome pair where time has stood still, the man with the floppy hair decides to assert his masculinity in order to impress me, the devotchka, whom he has already suspected of not actually listening to any music. He stands up.
“Jog on mate, noone’s givin’you anyfin’, ALRIGHT?”
In contrast to what he expected to happen, I jump up, slap the floppy haired man who I had until mere seconds ago wanted to take me to dinner, take his wallet from the pocket where it is poking out, take out a tenner, then take ten from my pocket, hand it to the man with the violin and exit at the next station - Angel.

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London is renown for its cutting edge contemporary fine arts scene rivaling New York City or any other major city in the world. In the 1990’s it experienced an outcrop of a group coined the Young British Artists, who’s countercultural but glamorous lifestyles were as much publicized as their artwork successes. British art schools also have been known to produce many worldwide successful Pop and Rock musicians, to name a few; David Bowie, Pete Townshend, Brain Eno, Freddie Mercury, John Lennon, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, John Cale, Ronnie Wood, Eric Clapton, Joe Strummer, Sade and PJ Harvey.

Here is a list of London Art Degree Shows to watch for: Camberwell College of Arts, Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design, Chelsea College of Art, Goldsmiths University of London, London Metropolitan University, Middlesex University, Royal College of Art, Slade School of Fine Art, Wimbledon College of Art.

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Many fascinating attractions reside in London and the beauty of what it has to offer attracts many tourists around the world. There is something to see and do for everyone.

One popular activity in London for tourists is to ride the double-decker buses. Many ride these buses for their ambiance, although they also provide a great way to tour the city and its attractions in a matter of hours. Some of the famous London attractions you can visit while on tour is the the Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, Big Ben and the Millennium Wheel being one of the biggest Ferris wheels worldwide.

Other attractions you will find in London is the Buckingham Palace, the Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London. There are various monuments and a vast collection of art to see as well.

London some of the most prominent museums which are free to visit and a large amount of exhibits. It would take several days for a person to see everything. For example, at the British Museum, you will find the Rosseta Stone with hieroglyphic writing, the Museum of London offers Victorian shop fronts and the Natural History Museum carrys a life-sized T Rex.

In addition to London’s finest attractions, you can also enjoy some leisure time in the London Royal Parks which include the Regent’s Park, St Jame’s Park, Kensington Gardens and the Hyde Park.

The Regent’s Park is peaceful with its beautiful gardens, open air theatre and boating lake.

The St Jame’s Park is surrounded by three royal palaces which are Westminister, Buckingham Palace and the Tudor St James Palace. It is located in the heart of London and is used often for ceremonial occasions.

Hyde Park holds the Memorial Fountain of Diana, Princess of Wales. This Memorial was open on July 6, 2004 by Her Majesty the Queen.

Along with the Royal Parks, important museums and the famous attractions, tourists can enjoy the busy nightlife of London as well with its nightclubs, fining dining restaurants and pubs. There is a little bit of something for everyone when touring London. Who knows, at the end of your trip you may even start looking for houses for sale in Berkshire so you can be a little bit closer to the Big Smoke yourself!

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It has been described as a place which is fun to hang out at and one of the most entertaining spots in London, and I just happend to stumble upon it when I was searching with my girlfriend for Islington flats and houses for rent. This DJ bar is completely arty with its decorations of numerous lettering on the floor and unique styling all round.

Everything been designed in such a way that they compliment the whole theme in the place. The letters of the decoration tend to overshadow the brick walls and woodwork finish that helps to give this bar its unique ambience. It is in other words a dreamland location for the hip people.

The music which is played there happens to be the bass heavy type, and it ranges across numerous musical genres including reggae, hip hop, disco, funk etc. There are quite a wide range of cocktail drinks which are usually on offer, and the pricing is fairly reasonable. Spirits for the alcohol lovers are usually on offer.

Considering also that there happens to be a dedicated DJ booth means that music lovers frequenting this place usually have the time of their lives. If you want to get up and dance then you are free to do so and express yourself.

It is the careful attention to details with the decoration that makes this a one in a million places. The space is ample and there happens to be a splendid sitting arrangement which gives you all the room you need to dance to the blazing music as you enjoy your time.

Pop Up Pirates is one place you must visit simply because of its colorful psychedelic visuals and originality. The music is great and so are the people who go there. You can get some sprite drinks and dance and laugh the night away with your friends. It is simply fun, fun, fun.

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Somewhere among the industrial estates of South West London lies a piece of the capital’s history that may soon disappear for good. Wimbledon Stadium is the last greyhound racing venue left open in London; even Walthamstow’s famous dog track has closed its doors in recent years. The current plight of greyhound racing elsewhere suggests that Wimbledon’s chances of survival are slim.

Living only a short walk from the stadium, I had always been put off by the impression that greyhound racing was a dying enterprise and a little bit of a dirty sport. When I first went I was expecting a dingy track and storage units, I couldn’t have been more wrong! As soon as we were through the turnstiles, it was clear this wasn’t the case. A gleaming new grandstand rises up from the track side, with glass fronted booths for diners to watch the races while they eat. The stadium also boasts a number of bars and takeaway outlets, all packed with paying customers. The track side is a melee of activity, with the ground’s own betting floor crammed with punters, whilst a number of bookies set up shop on the concourse.

The races themselves come along every 15 minutes, with a maximum of 6 runners per race. Betting is easy - pick a dog to win, with a minimum £2 bet. The bookmakers'stalls will give you a receipt telling you exactly what you’ll get back. When it’s race time, the grandstand lights go down and the crowd jostle for position at track side. One of the best things about a night at the stadium is the freedom to wander around - you can watch from right beside the track or head up into the stand for a bird’s eye view. There are very few of the restrictions you often find at sports events, which all adds to the entertaining party atmosphere around the track.

Greyhound racing as a sport is basically centred on gambling, and there are no limits on the amounts you can bet, so caution is advised. It feels low-risk however - most of us came out with more or less the same amount that we went in. With 13 races a night, you’d be unlucky to not experience victory at some point. Entry costs just a fiver, and with regular discounts and vouchers available, going to the dogs is an exciting and affordable night out. Heading out amongst the hordes of people heading to hired limos and cabs outside, it was hard to imagine that greyhound racing doesn’t have a future in this corner of the capital.

Find out more about Wimbledon Stadium’s greyhound racing nights at www.lovethedogs.co.uk

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Looking for somewhere to go in Covent Garden to have yourself a good time, then you will want to pay a visit to The Den and Centro nightclub. Amidst the fall of some of the older and popular nightclubs in the area this club has arisen to provide fun lovers with a new and unique place to go.

With partygoers constantly looking for somewhere that is different this nightclub offers them an experience that can only be described as a fantasy. Designed with excitement and enjoyment in mind, you will surely appreciate the many laser and LED lights and a stage where live shows take place. The DJ both is pod shaped and some of the best DJ’s around pass through ever so often to play alongside the resident DJ.

The club takes over from a previous club that was in the same location. Its ambiance is a lot different than that the old club and it feels like a real party location. This is evident by the numerous events held there including The System launch party that was held in February.

There is a great DJ who churns outs some real cool party music and keeps the vibe going and the crowd wild. There is also an adequate mix of musical genres at the club and times when the music of both Centro and Den are linked.

If you have a thing for designer bedding; There is a VIP lounge for those who want a different and somewhat pampered experience and it’s above the main bar.

You can have some of the best brews around here and the bartenders and the rest of the staff do a great job in filling the many orders.

Clubbers from all walks do enjoy this club and many more will come to share in the experience.

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I popped into Porter’s English Restaurant in Covent Garden on Saturday night and was very impressed with the food and service that I found there: wholesome, tasty and traditional fare that provides the perfect accompaniment to a night at the theatre.

Porter’s has recently celebrated 25 years of serving hordes of hungry theatre goers but it is not resting on its laurels. Specialising in good old fashioned British food, often with a distinct Porter’s twist, it has proved popular with both tourists and Londoners alike.

Porter’s English Restaurant is situated on Henrietta Street which runs off of the Covent Garden Piazza itself and is therefore within easy walking distance the theatreland hotspots of Leicester Square and The Strand as well as The Royal Opera House on Bow Street.

The extensive menu includes staples such as Fish and Chips and Steak and Kidney pudding but they specialise in taking pies to a new level. Steak, Guinness and Mushroom pie seemed popular but there is a large variety to choose from. The pies are huge towering affairs with a substantial filling hidden beneath a delightfully crispy crust. A selection of puddings are also high on the feel good factor, with comfort food favourites like rice pudding and sticky toffee pudding on offer. For a starter I would recommend the ’London Peculiar’, a pea and bacon soup that is delicious and warming.

For a main course I ordered beer battered cod and chips with a side order of mushy peas and I was served with a huge fish, perfectly cooked in a crunchy but light batter. The white flakes melted in my mouth and it was piscine delight.

My dessert was even better. I opted for the syrup sponge pudding with custard and the beautifully presented sponge had been steamed to perfection. I have dined at many top class restaurants in the capital but I must say that this beautifully simple, melt in the mouth delight was the best dessert that I have ever tasted.

All in all, I cannot recommend Porter’s English Restaurant enough - it takes traditional English food to a new gourmet level. Although it was very busy when I went the staff were friendly and the service was very quick. The prices are most reasonable and the restaurant even adds on a small (optional) donation that goes to the Help Our Heroes charity. So there we have it: great food, unbeatable location, friendly service, good prices and a kind heart as well! I will be booking a table at Porter’s again and I strongly advise you to do the same!

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Tucked into West Central Street just of New Oxford Street, the Den & Centro is a live music venue and nightclub. Formerly known as ’The End,’one of London’s most popular and enamoured party venues has been rebranded with the simple reshuffling of a letter and is now referred to as ’The Den.'

Under its new label the PR guru’s are spinning their magic by announcing the much sought after party night as “a fantasy nightclub and party venue for indulgence in hedonistic pleasure.”Not much change from ’The End’then!! And in all fairness, other than the swanky refurb, not much has changed.

Party seekers will still be treated to some of the most sizzling live gigs and talented DJ’s spinning the latest dance crazes and mixing it up with classic party anthems that will blow the roof off it pillars. The fact that Jonathan Tana of Space flew in from Ibiza for the opening night speaks for itself.

The opening months didn’t have the flavour and va va voom of the good old days, but the ’old skool'are steadily returning to the old whore having got bored with courting wannabe mistresses whilst old faithful was away getting a makeover.

Upstairs you will find Centro, a split level nightclub with all the glitz and glamour of chrome bars and smooth lighting. Downstairs in the Den is the live music venue fitted with state-of-the-art sound and lighting equipment and walls massacred with pop-art graffiti. At £10 a pop, admission fees are very reasonable for this stretch of London–and you’re guaranteed to get your money’s worth!

Great update everyone, Gillian just got a internship with a company that sells those newkaftans, I expect samples!

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