
A brief skit about London and its rules.
Stand on the right. It's the most famous of London rules. Anyone with the temerity or ignorance to stand on the left of an escalator invites disapproval. I've seen people move off from a standing position just so they can walk up behind the rule-breaker and say "excuse me" in a superior tone. "Stand on the right" is the one rule that a Londoner will never break.

At the other end of the scale is the green-man rule. The seasoned Londoner is too cocksure to linger at a pedestrian crossing. We will cross at any phasing of the lights so long as the way seems clear. Visitors — especially those from countries with stricter jaywalking laws — will wait patiently for a green man, even if the road is completely clear. The Londoner simply walks across or, rather, saunters across in a style that says: "hey tourist, look at me. Look how chilled and relaxed I am about crossing this road."
Rules are everywhere in London. No littering. No parking. No dogs. No e-scooters. No busking. No climbing on the lions.

Rules follow us into places where we don't even suppose them to operate. Hampstead Heath, for example, feels about as liberal and free as anywhere, a place of kite-flying, merry-making and nocturnal cruising. But have you seen THE RULES? You can't use a tripod. You can't beat carpets. According to the letter of the law, you may not "train any whippet", "mend any chair" or even "harry a fish". It is even forbidden on Hampstead Heath — on HAMPSTEAD COCKING HEATH — to climb a tree. "Byelaw 4. No Person shall climb on any tree or on or over any gate, fence or railing in or enclosing any open space." Best arrest me now.

Rules follow us to the most unlikely places. You might think that the Barnes shrine to glam-rock legend Marc Bolan would be a place of easygoing spontaneity. But no. Among the ribbons, flowers and photographs is a 15-rule "Conditions of Entry [COE]". Rock and roll; it's what he would have wanted.

Rules, and whether we're prepared to break them, can be contextual. If I'm in a cafe, and a plug socket says "for staff use only", then I'd probably be too much of a goody-two-shoes to use it. After all, it might be considered a form of stealing, given that electricity isn't cheap these days. But an empty socket on a train feels like a different situation. The vehicle is humming with power, and the extortionate fare incentivises the customer to grab every freebie they can. Still, a bold move by this particular passenger, given the warning sign:

Of course, rules are nothing new. The Code of Ur-Nammu was inscribed on clay tablets in Sumeria more than 4,000 years ago. Ever since, our overlords have been decorating the cities with "Thou shalt nots". London has a particularly fine collection of superannuated signage.




One day, I tell myself, I must go around London and see how many small rules I can break in one day. Occasionally, I'll dip a toe in the water (especially if a sign says "no paddling"). I will stand in zones I'm not supposed to:

I will touch loose bollards:

And I will join the passengers who have passed the point beyond which passengers must not pass, but into which they must pass if they are to use the doors of the first carriage:

But everybody has their limits and their comfort zones. I would never touch the Horniman walrus, for example, despite the temptation. Nor would I conceivably engage in competitive dog grooming on the St Pancras International escalators, in firm compliance with the official notice:

We all learn to navigate the rules of this city in our own way, ignoring some, obeying others. I'll leave the final word to the back of Morph's head (there is no greater authority), as spotted on the Morph sculptural trail in 2023:
