So the Hawley Arms joins the Cutty Sark and the King’s Bakery on London’s notorious list of burnt-out wrecks. It’s too soon to say for sure, but I suspect foul play.
Camden High Street depresses me. The sheer volume of crack-heads doesn’t help, but it’s largely because I always see the same characters hanging around in Camden that hung around in Camden when I first moved to London 9 years ago.
Guys who would have new bands every 3 months, who would play a couple of shitters at the Dublin Castle, spend their Incapacity Benefit in the Good Mixer and repeat the sequence every time the season changed. Apparently without end. So many of these dudes are still there, wearing the exact same clothes, waiting to get noticed but looking increasingly haggard and desperate.
Maybe one of them’s finally gone postal. Walking past the Hawley Arms one day, looking in and seeing Pete Doherty and Johnny Borrell enjoying the attention of the mass media for doing little other than getting pissed in the right place at the right time, one of these long-overlooked would-be guitar heroes has experienced a violent epiphany.
Laughing maniacally as he pumped litre after litre of petrol from a Super-Soaker, perhaps yelling ‘Come to my show – it’s gonna be wild!’ over and over again, he had only to wait until Amy Winehouse stumbled out of the Hawley Arms for a fag, and kaboom – London’s burning.