Walking down the stairs to the Northern at Bank. It's 11.30pm, there or thereabouts, and London is marinaded in just the right amount of booze. Two guys in suits are rambunctiously making their way down behind me. One is jumping down the steps two at a time.

I am a flight in front of them when a silver screw pops out of the stair that Suity Guy #1 just landed on. It tinkles to a halt by my feet. The three of us look down at it and back up at each other. "You broke the stairs!" I say. We giggle a bit and carry on.

Truly, the Underground is crumbling.


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