Living in London I have the privilege of dieting on the world’s most sardinesque network on a daily basis.
It is infinitely more pleasurable to be armed with the tools of a cryptic crossword setter. A diversion from the armpit of my tinned neighbour only serving to sharpen the imagination.
I once read of people arriving at a fancy dress party as various tube stations. A woman in ‘60s garb, sporting a beehive*, a man carrying a cocktail stick on which a lump of red cheese had been pierced** , a man with a beer can threaded through his trouser fly*** .
You can make up your own.
There is a wonderful anagram version of the map too.
I immediately spotted the irony of Willesden Green (Serene Dwelling) where I’d once lived in a studio flat with a homicidal Italian.
I’m off to the Written Mess of Westminster… bye for now.
John (aka Paul)
** Leicester Square