Until they start letting you inject caffeine straight into your bloodstream, you’ll be knocking back the shortest, most intense drink on the menu. When you order, you give your name as simply ‘X’, since it’s the simplest, most un-fuck-up-able character that can be marker-penned onto a paper thimble, thereby reducing the chance of your drink being delayed or misdelivered by 22 percent. You probably live in quite a nice house.
Where we’ll find you: Rapha CC, Soho W1
It’s long, it’s milky, it comes topped with cocoa in a steep-sided glass. We don’t wish to alarm you, but there’s a very real chance you may be your own dad.
Where we’ll find you: Bar Italia, Soho W1
Anything that comes with a dome-shaped lid and ‘sprinkles’
You’re either a valid, functioning member of society suffering from a big bastard of a hangover, or you’re the sort of person who has a picture of your pet as your Facebook profile picture. That’s not to say you’re not a nice person – we’d rather be stuck in a lift with a coffee philistine like you than a coffee snob – it’s just that we definitely wouldn’t trust you to look after our children. Or our goldfish. Maybe our houseplant.
Where we’ll find you: Starbucks (any branch)
This new-ish drink on the scene basically costs the same as a flat white, despite being about half the size. If this is your go-to, then you’re probably the sort of person who prides themselves on being ahead of the curve – you’re an urban pioneer who always wears nice trainers and probably runs a parody Twitter account. That, or you’ve got a mild dairy intolerance.
Where we’ll find you: Timberyard, Old Street EC1
As the sort of person who’s happy to spend £3 a day on a paper cup of what’s essentially hot brown milk, it’s fair to say you’re not the shrewdest of dudes. You’ve probably lost a month’s travelcard in the first week more than once and it probably wasn’t until the third time they sent the bailiffs round that you realised credit cards weren’t just magical sources of lovely free money. For your own sake, invest in a Thermos now before it’s too late.
Where we’ll find you: That place at the tube station that charges £4 for a muffin
None of that noisy, foamy bullshit for you – you’re a purist, and you prefer the simple things in life. So cut the fuss – just grind the beans up to the perfect texture, get the water to within two degrees of 90C, pop it all through a responsibly sourced paper membrane, pour it nice and slowly – woah there, cowboy, slowly – and you’ll be on your way, thanks very much.
Where we’ll find you: Monmouth, Borough SE1
Look down – do you see brogues? Of course you do, you gigantic hipster. You’re the kind of subversive cat who thinks nothing of taking a drink that has – for literally centuries – been served hot and demanding it be presented to you cold, over ice, in a bloody jam jar. What’s next – steaming hot mugs of beer? Ice cream that’s on fire? Carcinogenic fruit? Yeah, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?
Where we’ll find you: Vagabond, Holloway Road N7