the words of strangers
You know, that scene where he chops his hand off and you can tell – you can just tell that it’s not a real hand. Blood spilling out everywhere…
(Armed policeman in bulletproof jacket chatting to his similarly equipped mate as they stroll around the gardens of St Paul’s Cathedral, 3.15pm, 22 October 09)
- This is Islington. It’s full of Dickens, it’s a Charles Dickens area. It’s full of Georgian houses, it’s very Georgian – like that (pointing to a Poundbury-esque block of flats built six months ago). Did you see Lock Stock and Two Burning Barrels? It was all filmed here.
(English woman giving unofficial – and unreliable – tourist advice to a younger Asian-American man, 341 bus heading down Essex Road towards the Angel, 1.30pm, 5/9/09)
- He’s the only rapper that got like GCSEs and stuff, that’s gone to uni. He’s the only rapper that’s ever done it. That’s why he’s so rude… His mum sued him. She sued him like ten times or something. She never got no money though.
- Yes she did!
- (in unison) Yes she did!
(Young teenage boys discussing Eminem on a train between Strawberry Hill and Twickenham, 2pm-ish, 28/8/09)
- He’s so talented.
- Talented at what?
- What he does.
- What does he do?
American couple discussing her manager on 341 bus to Waterloo; 2.15pm, 23 August 2009
We used to hit children – I mean, children were hit, in schools, up until the Eighties. It’s hard to go back to those days. It’s as far away now as the Gunpowder Plot was then – the world has changed on its axis. Now the question is are children allowed to hit teachers. And the answer seems to be yes!
Man on the verge of retirement, talking to/at friend of similar age while waiting to watch Simon Stephens’ Pornography at the Tricycle Theatre, Kilburn; 7.45pm, 17 August 2009
- I love that! That Buddha. He’s the best god. If I had to follow any god it would be Buddha. I don’t follow gods. Do you?
- I’m Jewish.
- Are you? That’s cool.
Boy, about nine or ten, enthusing about a stone statue in an architectural salvage shop on Essex Road, to girl, about the same age; 476 bus, an afternoon in June 2009
- I need to have sex with a lot more people. I can’t be doing it with just her all the time
Teenage boy to his friend, 176 bus heading up Walworth Rd, 11pm, 13 May 2009
- Are you writing?
- I wrote 85 words… Does that count?
- 85 words, yes why not?
- I don’t know, tonight I’m going to watch – I’ve discovered this new passion for football, it’s extraordinary, it’s as if my genes have just kicked in, I’ll be reading Jeremy Clarkson next – tonight I’ll be watching Arsenal versus Liverpool so I think my 85 words may stay at 85.
(Woman and man, both in mid-late 50s and looking vaguely bohemian, top deck front seats of 476 heading up Pentonville Road, 6.15pm, 21 April 2009)
- And then Scott killed himself, and then -
(Young man in suit, standing outside warehouse in N1, talking furtively into mobile, 9.20am, 31 March 2009)
I’m not feeling like a goddess. I had so much to eat at the weekend – the food at the hotel was so horrible I had to keep throwing more food at it… and then on the train there were biscuits… and then I made a huge casserole when I got home and ate three-quarters of it … and today I’d forgotten I was going out for lunch. I hate myself.
(Unseen woman talking on mobile in office toilet cubicle, Camden, 2.45pm, 30 March 2009)
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