Fourth

Dirty thieving vermin

Living in London can be a full-blooded pain in the arse in lots of ways, and people always mention crime as one of the top ones. But it's not violent crime that constantly oppresses you - you only get reminded of that in suddenly sobering moments on your way home, or by big yellow boards on the street. It's the steady downward drag of small, almost pointless crimes that go unpunished and at the same time almost unrewarded. Bag thieves in pubs, coat thieves at parties, phone thieves, thieves from cars, pickpockets, gutless, heartless opportunistic thieves who sell your stuff for a meaningless amount of money, but drop a big miserable bomb in the middle of your month.

What makes me most angry about these people is that the amount of benefit they get is such a minute fraction of the cost you pay. You have to replace what they took, cancel credit cards, enter all your numbers in a new phone, contact the police, all of that. And the benefit to them: £10. Maybe. Or maybe £15.

Dirty, thieving vermin, nibbling at the edges of life in the city and making it crap for everyone.

My friend had his bike stolen. People will make you feel naive at times like that, but it should be OK to just lock your bike up on the street. You should be able to feel confident that it will still be there. You should be able to relax, and trust your fellow
Londoners not to steal your stuff just because they can get away with it.

Dirty thieving vermin make that impossible, sadly.