I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

I am below everything.

Rain, starting

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Style

Better Lift

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41


I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

not their contents

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15