Londoners Life 4 – By Phil Ryan
It’s a given that in London you see odd things. City things. Things you don’t see say in the countryside. Urban things. And though they’ve been around a while I saw a thing in town just now that left me speechless. A large man. Standing on a main thoroughfare. Outside John Lewis. In a dayglo boiler suit. An almost radioactive lime green reflective material. The words Computer Sale written all over him. Up each leg. Along his arms. On his chest. On his back. And adding indignity to indignity. On the large sail like top hat he was wearing was an arrow. Pointing to presumably the place holding the computer sale. A human billboard. With a pocket thing. Full of leaflets.

Sadly my initial thought was what must the job interview be like? That said. Oh my god. Who came up with this idea? There used to be guys holding giant signs on poles. They were always listening to something on headphones. Presumably the words “don’t kill yourself” on a constant loop. But the pole was a tangible thing. It said I’m a signpost to the golf clearout. The guy has to hold me or I’ll fall down or blow away. But the suit sign phenomenon. A black hole for human dignity. A nadir in exploitation. It’s just a few steps away from children up chimneys isn’t it? Yes I’ve seen people in costumes before on the streets. There’s a party place near where I live. They do fancy dress. Fireworks. Novelty stuff. Every now and again there’ll be a guy in giant teddy bear costume outside holding a bunch of balloons and dancing around on the pavement. He waves to the cars. We toot our horns and wave back. He waves back. We all smile and feel a little better. Of course I could have this wrong and it could be some earnest protest about the exploitation of bears in circuses. Maybe the balloons are just symbolic. Maybe the party place hires out endangered bears. Perhaps the Giant teddy is begging us to help stop this. His little dance and wave actually blind fury as we smile and wave and drive on. He’s not waving he’s shaking his fists at us. Thoughtless swine. But I like his Teddy bear suit. It’s very nice. Friendly. Evocative of childhood. Whereas the dayglo guys just look frankly naff. And conjure up slavery and low wages. Damn I can’t stop thinking about that Teddy bear now. But as a Londoner my conscience is pricked about ten times every hour.
There’s the smiling young people with clip boards. Fresh faced. Innocent. Optimistic. Students I’m guessing. Saying hello. Giving you a thumbs up. They wear little tabards saying Christian Giving. Starving Children or Africa it’s awful isn’t it. Apparently it’s called chugging. Which is shorthand for charity mugging. They try and stiff you for two pounds a month or someone will die. And secretly they hint it’s your fault. Then there’s the misery tables. Usually the pasteboard ones you buy at B&Q to paper the downstairs lav. But now covered with pictures of beagles having a fag. Monkeys wearing makeup which I thought was quite cute until the earnest young woman put me straight. I gave her a quid. But one truly unique London thing is the anti regime tables. Solemn looking people holding books of people who have disappeared. Down with the nasty regime. They want you to sign a petition. I always do. But of course I can’t help thinking A) I’m not sure the nasty regime is going to be bothered by a petition.

 Especially from a load of concerned Londoners, as currently they’re happy killing people who probably need a bit more protection than a petition but the B is the more worrying. Maybe I’ve now upset the regime by getting involved. Plus now they’ve got my name. Sometimes my postcode. Maybe they’ve got Google Street map. These guys kill people. Uh oh. But that’s another issue for another time. I guess the point is that the streets of London are now covered in stuff. Year on year. People in your way. Stopping you getting where you are going. Don’t get me wrong it’s all generally good. Big Issue. Great. Salvation Army. Fantastic. Red Poppy appeal. Marvellous. But I have to say finally there is one group of London street people that just baffles me. The Hare Krishnas. Uh? A load (sorry make that four to six) of people in thin orange pyjamas shuffling along banging a drum slightly out of time (very annoying if you feel like grooving) and repeating themselves in a sing song voice. And always two of them who don’t have all the orange gear. I saw one the other day with the orange shirty thing but wearing leather bondage trousers covered in zips and high heels. His friend had the orange pyjama bottoms but was sporting a rather fetching pink Puffa jacket with the legend Street Fighter embroidered across it with matching Ugg boots. Clearly they were half krishnas. Not quite fully orange. Trendsetters if you will.

But be careful. If you catch their eye they’ll immediately stop and try and flog you a book with some bloke and a blue elephant on the front. Or sometimes a weird looking CD. So the pavements are filling up. But do we care? Really. Does it bother anyone honestly? No. It’s a London thing.