London crap list 2007

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Let‘s face it: not everything about the capital in 2007 has been joyous, or indeed pleasant. So to purge our bile-ducts in preparation for the new year, here‘s our round-up of everything that‘s been, well, a bit rubbish

  • London crap list 2007

    Grey day: London's summer failed to materialise

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    The Tour de France.

    The world’s worst spectator sport by far.

    The person who appears to have sat in on every London planning meeting this year and said:

    ‘You know what we need more of? Luxury flats.’


    The 242 bus

    deciding to make its final stop at Holborn instead of Tottenham Court Road.

    Anything at the ICA.

    Events that sounded great, such as a roundtable summit on Iraq, were amateurish and boring.


    RMT leader

    Bob Crow’s big, grinning head.

    The closure of the New Piccadilly Café

    (even if the food was frankly dreadful).

    The 15 people who went to see Doris Salcedo's ‘Shibboleth’ crack in the Tate Modern

    and managed to fall in. Clowns.

    Westminster Council

    still stopping us getting a drink in central London after midnight.

    The ‘urban beach’

    on the Thames that failed to materialise – again.

    The heartless abandonment

    of Waterloo Eurostar.

    Farmers’ markets:

    £4 for a small loaf of bread? Sounds very reasonable…

    People being far too good at skating on outdoor rinks.

    It’s cheating.

    Free papers

    whose only service is to provide pictures of Doherty, Winehouse, celeb cleavages and tales of tube romance.

    And the fact that, despite nobody admitting to liking them,

    we now leave 9.5 tonnes of discarded freesheets on the tube every single day.

    The iniquitous dismantling of all London’s cigar bars

    ,

    including some real beauties, as part of the outrageously exemptionless smoking ban.

    And, for that matter, the new smokeless Ronnie Scott’s;

    jazz was supposed to be dirty. The death of the Spitz and Hammersmith Palais (with The Cross next for the chop).

    RIP George Melly.

    London is a duller place without you.

    Chris Moyles

    .

    Generally.

    The growing realisation that loathsome public school squit

    George Osborne and his chums will be in government sooner or later.

    Royal Mail.

    We’d write a letter of complaint, but frankly…

    The O2 Arena.

    A horror show. It’s like Romford on a Saturday night.

    The

    ‘summer’.

    Live Earth.

    Damien Hirst’s

    squillion pound waste-of-space diamond skull.

    New folk.

    New rave. New Cross.

    Former members of Blur getting ideas above their station.

    Drummer Dave Rowntree was a Westminster Council candidate, Alex James is associate editor of The Spectator and Damon Albarn is writing operas. Just come back and play ‘Parklife’.

    The unexpected closure of Steinberg and Tolkein

    – officially the best vintage clothes shop in London.

    Nelson Mandela’s statue.

    It’s undeniably right that London has a prominent tribute to such a great man. It’s just that it looks a bit rubbish, although a step up from honouring prominent African freedom fighters simply by naming student union buildings after them.

    The England football squad

    collapsing in the face of mild Croatian opposition at ‘fortress’ Wembley. Although Scott Carson was good for a giggle.

    The decline in the entertainment value of London’s football managers.

    Jose’s gone, Jol’s gone, Wenger is silent as always and Ian Holloway’s long gone.

    Soho on a Saturday night

    – still nowhere more depressing.

    Cabbies:

    it hardly seems possible but they’re getting ruder.

    BBC London:

    Norman Jay relegated to digital to accommodate more phone-ins.

    Being on Facebook.

    Not being on Facebook.

    The escalating cost

    of the Olympics.

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