Silence is golden

Out of necessity, I found myself battling the crowds of Oxford Street this afternoon - the first time since the unceremonious turfing out of "Sinner Winner Man", aka Philip Howard, from his megaphone vantage point smack dab in the middle of Oxford Circus.

A week or so ago, I read with amusement of an online campaign that has been set up to banish Sinner Winner Man from his new preaching post in Piccadilly Circus. A surprising amount of people stood up for Sinner Winner Man, saying that he was "part of our culture", that it would be just that little bit duller without him, that he was good for keeping the tourists away, etc etc. "Awww," I thought, "Londoners can be a cuddly bunch when they want."

Then I went shopping for boots on Oxford Street today; a hot, sunny Sunday afternoon, with a Spanish festival over on Regent's Street ensuring even larger crowds than usual. And you know what? I was only slightly put out by the experience. Considering that I normally leave the place with a raging headache and an urge to snatch one of those Golf Sale signposts and use it as a battering ram to clear my way to the tube station, this was a significant improvement. One that I attribute to not being informed repeatedly and at high volume that I was a miserable robotic drone who had no purpose in life but to spend, spend, spend (even though I was only there because I hadn't bought new boots in such a long time that my old ones had massive holes in them).

"Christian propaganda" isn't the problem with Sinner Winner Man, it's the options he gives us. Who wants to be his version of a winner if he makes us all feel like complete and utter losers in the interim? The old PR skills could do with a bit of a brush-up, je pense.

So good riddance, says I, if it makes the grinding shuffle through London's busiest shopping street any less excruciating. Now, if only the powers that be would enforce the use of a pedestrian fast lane, the Oxford Street experience would be bordering on enjoyable.