Ok, I'm going to say something rather controversial now and, I'm sure, deep down, it represents some deep-founded resentment and jealousy that links way back into my Clapham-based childhood. Nevertheless, here goes. I have a serious problem with Shoreditch-ites.
It's the 'I'm SOOOO different, just like everyone else' syndrome, previously the sole domain of goths and emos, but as I wandered around Old Street last Friday afternoon I began to feel that I would scream if I saw another trilby hat, another pair of pixie boots, or another 'vintage' checked shirt.
I held my tongue, spent nearly £10 on bagels and got the first Northern Line train out of there.