If you’re writing a novel about London it is absolutely the law that you refer to it as a ‘melting pot’. That way any sharp tools in the proverbial shed will know that means London is a city soaked in a variety of different cultures, races, genders, sexualities and any other human variable you can think of. Unfortunately, no one can keep up with a seemingly infinite number of unique characters London has produced so to make things easier I’ve decided that, based on your favourite of the following London landmarks you are one of only 6 character types. And nothing else.
Find your favourite and then determine what it says about you…
Big aren’t you? Massive, Colossal, Ginormous Ben. Wow, so imperious and stately, you almost forget that you’re a pub landlord and not a cabinet minister. A ranking of your favourite ales which are all a variant on the same £6 nutty sap are scrawled on a blackboard above the bell you ring at 10:40pm each evening to boot the handful of regulars out so you have a nice buffer-time of 20 minutes. You own five identical pairs of the same boot-cut jeans.
All the bright colours and shifting shapes are fascinating to you from the warm fleece of your pushchair. Mummy’s being very careful at the crossing. It’s almost as if she’s trying to navigate a furiously busy road without killing the one thing she loves more in the world. But who cares, the crisp, petrol-infused air smells good and those big red things whizzing past are making you laugh.
It’s either this or having a giggle fit due to a pulsing McDonalds advert the size of squash court, that sounds like a laugh to you.
Mindfulness, yeah. Your Instagram is full of tiny poetry stanzas and lush Bali vistas from your sixth holiday of the year. How beautiful you look in a £250 loungewear co-ord, distracts from the fact you order Deliveroo three times a week and have a pirated subscription to Disney+ so you can stream Lilo and Stitch every evening to the detriment of your housemate’s internet connection and ultimately, her Masters in Environmental Science.
Tower of London
‘Yeah guys, I’ve got a very dark sense of humour. You could say my sense of humour isn’t everyone’s cup of….blood!’
Whoa, curveball. Someone lock this maniac up before he commits a truly horrifying act, like compiling a playlist of your favourite death metal tracks in a bid to win back a girl who hasn’t spoken to you since secondary school. You also watch serial killer documentaries and take psychopath personality tests but are scared of answering the house phone. 26 years old.
You say you love cocktails but have only ever tried a strawberry daiquiri and a porn star martini. Admirably hard-working and have the beaming graduation photo and Human Resources voice to prove it. Your claim to fame is that you were supposed to go on Love Island but dropped out because you missed your Mum (and dog). Fair play.
Suitably impressed enough by magic to show your friends old David Blaine videos for 50 minutes and they love you so they don’t mind. They still loved you when you insisted on wearing a flat cap and speaking in a dodgy Birmingham accent at the pub for a month after you watched Peaky Blinders. The boys were a bit miffed when you brewed your own gin in the shared bathroom. Even more so after cancelling a stag in Prague for ‘circus skills’ lessons on Blackheath.