At Heathrow T5, Saturday morning:



Guy 1: Where there's truth there will be lies

Outside Burlington Arcade, Friday lunchtime:



I think reason plays no part

AirFrance flight 5171



There's a real skill and technique to it

Friday on the Eurostar:


You're the main attraction, right?

Tuesday at the bus stop, Old St roundabout:




I've done it so many times before.

Thursday night, Times Square:



But do you think it's good for the environment?

Thursday night at Little Oranges, Brick Lane:



I wish to be a patron.

Wednesday night at the NPG:



What happened to my brother?

At Shoreditch Park prom, on Friday night in the rain:



Sometimes, I don't even know why I bother...

On the tube to Moorgate (a snatch of clear conversation caught between the carriage rattling):



Fella to his mate: "......he's loose. Really loose..."

Friday night, 21 bus from Monument:


Text 1 (to Greg): Darling. Hi. I'm sorry. will call you when home
Text 2 (to Greg): Je t'aime

On the 76 bus from Moorgate to Dalston Friday night:



A group of sixth-form kid-clubbers board: Yay! We're going to a marvellous party.

Wednesday at Tower 42*:



Person 1: You think Messi can take Ronaldo?
Person 2: Did you see him in those shorts?
Person 3: Ronaldo has such a small dick.

*Barcelona 2-MU 0

Thursday night at Eurostar, St. Pancras:


Englishman : I hear that it may be a hot summer.
Englishlady: Mmm. We may need to get some sort of air conditioning-plenty of water.

At Maze, Saturday lunchtime:


Guy 1: Mmm, that is good
Guy 2: Like an expensive Gaucho don't you think?
Guy 1: I'd quite like a Gaucho; the cowboy, not the steak.

Tuesday on Central line, Chancery Lane to Bond St:


Girl to friend: It was really small. Really small.
Friend gives girl knowing look...

On the 76 bus from Kingsland Road to Old St, Friday night:


Raver girl, on mobile: I don't want to get too wasted tonight. I'm saving that for tomorrow.

Saturday night at the Barbican:


Old man to old lady: Doesn't it feel like summer yet [sic]

At the Diner, Friday night:



Hoxton indie boy in tight red T: This is so not life at all

Saturday night at Pizza Express:


Mother: Don't you know I'll be there?
Amanda: Whenever you need me? Jesus, plastic sounding Jackson shit mother.