London’s Love Affair With Coffee Shops

Have you ever walked down a bustling street in London and thought to yourself ‘do you know what this city needs? Another coffee shop’? It was only a few weeks before Christmas that a Costa Coffee opened on Commercial Road down near Spitalfields in East London. In a half-mile radius, there are a plethora of high street coffee shops, all pretty much serving the same thing.

Where did our obsession with coffee shops come from? Every time I walk past one, I see a twat with a Mac and iPad whilst talking on his iPhone. It’s at that point I question whether the coffee shop has become the mother ship for everyone that wants to feel important/thinks they’re important, yet is an insignificant speck on this planet?

I read somewhere that many parts of London are becoming ‘Shoredified’. This is certainly true when you visit Big Chill House in Kings Cross, which proudly boasts on its website that the pub is a ‘Taste of Shoreditch in Kings Cross’. No, it is not. It is a refurbished Victorian pub in the heart of Kings Cross. If I wanted a taste of Shoreditch, I would get on the heathen-infested Northern Line and force myself into the abyss of a carriage and travel east to Old Street.

For all its wonder and awe, Shoreditch isn’t the cultural utopia of London. In fact, more often than not, you’ll find yourself eavesdropping into a conversation between two cunts wearing BOY t-shirts in the Owl & Pussycat, discussing why Lorde is the saviour of the music industry. Sure, it’s the place to be right now because Shoreditch epitomises Gen-Y but unfortunately many establishments don’t recognise that themselves. If they did, a gourmet burger and a pint in the Owl & Pussycat wouldn’t cost £15. Gen-Y is poor, there’s no pussyfooting around this but the bars and restaurants in the area haven’t acknowledged this fact.  Rents have gone up due to gentrification, not just for your everyday schmuck (always wanted to use that) but for commercial businesses too. So whilst we’re screaming about everything becoming more expensive and ‘gentrification is the devil’, how far would you be willing to travel for that latte served by a bloke that somehow manages to turn Amy into Bob on your Starbucks cup?

Since we’re on the topic, I want to promote, praise and figuratively speaking, give a massive blowjob to an innovative business venture. Ziferblat is London’s first pay-per-minute café, where the price of a latte in Pret a Minge tallies up to roughly an hour and a half spent in the Old Street establishment. The catch? Everything inside the café/kitchen is absolutely free. In fact, if you really wanted to, you could cook a quick meal with equipment and utensils provided.

There was once an adage that we’re never more than six feet away from a rat in London. I’m not sure whether that’s true but what I can tell you is that we’re never more than six feet away from a Starbucks and a pretentious twat inside of that godforsaken Seattle export. In truth, I can rant all I want about the commercialisation of hipster culture but I will find myself in the Owl & Pussycat this Friday night.

P.S. If you’re a sensitive soul, I’m sorry for my language. (Not really). 


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