NEW! Brixton Crazies, Brixton, London
Brixton is a great centre for nutjobs.
The pink lady is a woman in her thirties who has never been seen wearing anything but pink. Not that extreme but it goes as far as her hair and her pet dog. The sight of her going for a jog in the morning in shocking pink lycra is a sight to behold. Vietnamese Army Guy has no discernible function other than to walk the length of Brixton Road again and again wearing an army hat. He is Vietnamese and has one of those long moustaches like the detective Peter Ustinov used to play. I am sure I saw him with a snake once as well. There are others, the sadly departed Maggot Man who was so called for being seen rubbing his face in the window at the now defunct Pizza Hut with maggots in his hair. His coup de grace was the day he set up a home in the traffic island just outside brixton tube. There was a chair and a standard lamp. He also used to fashion headgear out of teatowels.
There is also The Glittery Fish Woman. She makes paintings of fish on cardboard with glitter and tries to sell them outside Iceland and drums up trade by playing a paper and comb.
There is also The Portuguese Guy who has been trying to save up a train ticket to Portsmouth to visit his sister for the last 5 years. He has asked me for money probably every other time I go to Brixton and his story never wavers.
Submitted by Danny
Spock and Fingers, Clerkenwell
These were a double act of the worst ilk. they were pensioners who were about in clerkenwell in the 80's and 90's, not sure about now. spock, he got his name because of his giant ears, fingers name came from the fact that on one hand he had stumps instead of fingers. they speciallity was young children, they would take a host of toddlers to the park playing with them on the swings and slides, all the lads from the area would throw things at them and insult them at any given oppotunity. Fingers just used to stand for it but spock was often braver and tried to fight back, but we werent scared, the pair of them would often get covered in drinks and spit.
Submitted by anon.
Garrincha the witch, London
I just saw this one, walking ahead of me as I strolled through a suburban road near Kilburn. Like Garrincha, the Brazilian football wing wizard of the 50/60's, this person was short and bow legged, and was carrying a casey, but as I got closer I could see my mistake as she was definitely female (once) and was of considerable age.
Clad in one of those multicoloured shell jackets and with a witches
face(it wasn't Tracey Emin, honest) She sent a dread chill through my bones as I passed her. Obviously on the surface she was scruffy and witchy, which in itself is not unique, but the casey?
Submitted by Kate Moss
The Ethiopian spy, North London
This guy has wandered down my road a few times. I've not lived in London long so I'm not familiar with the local legends but I've seen a few contenders, like the Ethiopian spy. he is a very tall well dressed man, and has the regal look and fine features of many Ethiopians, a bit like Haile Selassie. He appears completely normal as he briskly walks by, except for the newspaper that he holds infront of his face, about three inches away. I have glimpsed his face a few times, recognising him as probably Ethiopian, and he always has the same furtive expression, a dead giveaway for a spy. I also saw, just the other day, another spy, stood outside my house, leaning against the wall, with a newspaper right infront of his head. I'm getting paranoid as I've already had a couple of encounters with the Chinese spy on the coach to the north.
There are tons of candidates for Legendary status in London, but quite often the pissy old witchy hag turns out to be Tracey Emin, which is a letdown. Frankly I think they have got the quantity down here, but not the quality.
Submitted by Exiled Manc
Herbert Hardwicke, Manor House, London
Herbert Hardwicke was a classic mid 1990s nutter to warm the cockles. His first announcement was a slogan in perfect five foot dulux letters on the side of Manor House bus garage: "Herbert Hardwicke has done more for humanity than anyone ever". In a city obsessed with the latest fashion readers will be heartened to hear he was always dressed in a gard as traditional as pie'n'mash; flat cloth cap,dirty brown raincoat, bottle-end glasses, a plassie carrier bag clutched tightly and an intense "there.. I've said it" stare.In later statements he claimed to have united Christians and Jews and thereafter to be God, he should of been a sign-writer the letters were imaculate, he disappeared so they probably moved him to the sea-sid.
Submitted by The Brewer
NEW! Pete Gas, Islington
Pete Gas is a venerable legend of Islington. He was allegedly an engineer for Marconi in the 1970s who had a breakdown but I think this is nonsense. He used to wear a boiler suit and had a carefully cultivated "Mad Professor" haircut. He also constructed an "ingenious" (but on closer inspection quite crude) torch-goggle headset. Pete Gas lived in a number of squats in the Angel in the 1980s and had a cat with fur so dirty it was solid. Nevertheless regular citizens sought him out as he had a reputation of being able to fix televisions and stereos, of course he couldn't he just took them to pieces and left them in bits in his front room (squatting another house when it was full) but it was amazing how many people kept bringing him their stuff to destroy!Needless to say Pete Gas's main interest was inveigling young men and women to indulge in anal sex and to this end he often tried to start a "band" with them which usually got no further than him taking some deluded tune-smith's guitar to pieces irreversibly.He was harmless enough though (unless you owned a stereo) but truly on the darker side of "cyberpunk".
Submitted by Brewer
Horace, North Finchley, London
Legend has the Horace's brother Stanley was killed in a fire at the age of 25.This is the explanation given for the fact that if you say the words 'Stan', 'fire' or '25' to the rotund black fella, he goes off on one. Many a taunting local school kid had been chased around the High Road while he shouts 'you fucking white bastard'. He never catchs any of 'em though and in the 18 yrs I've known Horace he's never hurt anyone. Most of the time he cheerily wishes passers by who he recognises 'the best of luck'at the top of his booming voice.
A true legend, I tell ya.
Submitted by Buckley
Crazy Cigar Smoking Black Dude, London
On any given day your guaranteed to see this guy
outside Blackmarket Records in Soho asking for 20p, go one, give him a
quid, he's a bit like Mr Wendel.
Submitted by Roo
Crazy bag lady, West London
Often seen wandering from pub to pub in the Shepherds Bush area of West London. Teeth missing, like every good nutter should have, and pissed out of her mind all day long. Developed a habit in her later years of walking down the middle of the road, thus holding up the traffic. Would not think twice about offering out a Transit van full of builders. Hasn't been seen since early 90's,probably dead due to aforementioned habit.
Submitted by Sparky
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