Let me give you the bedsit tour! By a millennial

By Charlotte Phelps, aged 32, of Penge

COME in! Obviously I’d prefer to give you ‘the house tour’, but that’s not an option, so let’s pretend my cramped studio flat above a kebab shop is a liveable dwelling. 

Do you mind taking your shoes off? I hate to ask but it saves traipsing dirt through the hallway-cum-kitchen-cum-living-room-cum-bedroom-cum-bathroom. Thanks.

First, the kitchen! You wouldn’t normally have a shower cubicle next to the cooker, but it’s really handy if you work up an appetite washing your hair. You can make an omelette without all the hassle of lowering your feet one by one down 12 or 13 fiddly stairs.

If you turn your head slightly left you’re in the lounge. Technically it’s just one chair, so when friends come over we sit awkwardly in a row on the bed. The chair is a great place to slob out after work and watch the 12” TV weirdly positioned on a chipboard shelf above the sink.

Anyway, let’s walk half a metre over here and, ta-dah! The bedroom. This is where the magic happens. It’s not seen much action, because the communal toilet for the whole floor is the other side of this chipboard wall, and it puts you off.

I know what you’re thinking – how much to live in a prime Zone 4 location like this? It’s £1,200 a month, so with my other outgoings I have no money of my own like a slave, but it’s great to feel part of the zeitgeist.

Let’s move on to the dining room. You didn’t think there was one, did you? But if I flip up these little wings on this tiny table, hey presto! Room for four guests.

Anyway, this is my favourite feature, the window. I like to stare out at the normal houses and dream of not living in this f**king miniature hellhole that would give Stuart Little claustrophobia. Did I say hellhole? I meant studio.

I expect you’d like a cup of tea? Sit down. If you feel the walls closing in, just take deep breaths and ride out the panic. Milk, no sugar, right?

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Guardian readers' new gentrified activity is 'wild copulation'

MIDDLE-CLASS perverts are packing car parks in forests for their new obsession of ‘wild copulation’, formerly known as dogging. 

The newly-gentrified activity combines the open air, trangressive sexuality, and watching others do all the work in a single evening’s smug entertainment.

Freelance copywriter Emma Bradford said: “People worry about the cold, but honestly it’s so invigorating you don’t feel it. Instead you feel energised and empowered.

“It’s a traditional working-class activity that’s been practiced, with a bracing indifference to its legality, for generations. You’re reconnecting with nature, going back to our country’s very roots, and there really is nothing like the night breeze on your tits.

“I’ve lived in Romford for years and yet never realised that, right on our doorstep, were some of the most scenic spots to be humped by a butcher anywhere in the UK.”

Tom Logan, aged 38, a recent convert, said: “It’s amazing how much natural beauty there is to be found in our nation’s lay-bys, just waiting to be discovered.

“We nip out after tapas and stand around with the other Guardian readers discussing schools while watching a couple go at it in the back of a Vauxhall Zafira. Fancy some flavoured lube? It’s organic avocado and kale.”