I have had to repeat the image of the toilet-shower three times because the original toilet-shower image was absurdly low size and quality and I mean I'm not here to have a go at estate agents but lads your job is pretty fucking easy mates learn how to take a photo of a toilet ffs (Photo via Zoopla)
Where is it? Stoke Newington, essentially a farmer's market that got a bit out of hand;
What is there to do locally? The hot new thing the kids are doing in Stoke Newington these days is [looks at hand] queuing up for two hours for brunch at The Good Egg or [squints] going to Stoke Newington Tea House to try 100 different types of tea. Christ. We really have killed this city with our youth, haven't we?
Alright, how much are they asking? £900 pcm, not including bills
Behold the toilet-shower, a toilet with a shower in it. Or turn the laptop and look at it from another angle: is it actually, in fact, a shower with a toilet in it? I suppose this conundrum is our generation's version of the chicken and the egg: which came first in the north London flatshare, the toilet or the shower? What's more important to you: pissing, or washing your junk? Come on, I've got a gun to your head. I'm not messing about. See the wildness in my eyes. I'm a Bond villain, I've got your family. What's more important to you? Answer the question. Pissing? Or washing your junk? Answer the question! Answer the question!To Rectory Road today, a small bit of Stoke Newington that is not really Stoke Newington – it's Rectory Road, isn't it, it's a few flats and a quite good coffee shop and a train station – but still clings like a limpet to the allure of Stoke Newington, Stoke Newington with its high gloss homeware shops and its pubs that sell tea and its Franco Manca and its slow creeping from a Turkish baklava-and-barbers enclave into an area of buggies and high gentrification and avo on toast, a most hateful part of London, and of course the place where I personally live. Stoke Newington is what moneyed young people would turn London into if they had the chance – if all the oligarchs died in simultaneous cocaine-and-sixway heart attacks and the no-kids, no-mortgage 30-something media elite rose up and took control, and we took all the garden bridge money and made some sort of Westfield-sized Breakfast Club, and did nothing, really, about homelessness and low income housing, but we would create a high cathedral of a pub that did £16 roast dinners on Sunday and didn't show the football, we would do that. Stoke Newington, essentially, so twee now that it is a pro-oligarch argument. Imagine. Imagine that. Imagine it.
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