Josh Mcloughlin

All right, I know: everyone appreciates their own corner shop as a source of snacks, fags, batteries, Blu-Tack, fizzy drinks, painkillers and all the other things that make London life possible. But have you ever thought about the cosmic significance of the capital’s independent newsagents as a whole? Without the plucky corner shop, our city would be an unbroken chain of Sainsbury’s Locals and Tesco Expresses. Decent crisps would never be on offer, there would always be an unexpected item in the bagging area, and veg wrapped in infinite layers of plastic would force the condemned into a Sisyphean game of pass the parsnip. Salvation lies down the road, where the beacon of the corner shop’s fascia – invariably sponsored by a phone company you thought went bust in 2008 – emits a providential glow amid the hoary gloom. Booted out of the pub after last orders, thirsty for more but reluctant to go out-out? The corner shop is there for you. Been out-out and want to carry on into the ungodly hours? The corner shop is your friend, with its abundant store of tinnies, cigs and other afterparty supplies. ‘Without the plucky corner shop, our city would be an unbroken chain of Sainsbury’s Locals’ Each corner shop has a unique special feature – a butcher’s counter at the back, say, or an endearing selection of gas-mask-shaped bongs. If you’re truly blessed, your local may be furnished with the holy grail: a hatch for spontaneous after-hours purchases once the main doors have closed. What th

In a nutshellIt’s a dutty Deptford club beloved of Goldsmiths students. Where is it?Down some not-at-all sketchy-looking stairs off Deptford Broadway. What’s the vibe?A sweaty underground hole. In the best possible way, of course: dark, dancey and full of people (students or people who wished they were still students) who just want to get off their barnets. Don’t turn up until at least midnight if you’re expecting – you know – other people to be there. Instead, maybe head to Little Nan’s down the road where everyone else is pre-drinking. What makes it a great venue?It’s pure filth. You’ll see people having the best and worst nights of their lives here, usually in the kind of state that they wouldn’t want their mums to witness. The best thing about Bunker is that it’s unpretentious, despite the steezy crowd: no-frills, no wanky decor, no posers (okay, there are some posers). Leave the loafers at home, though, because the dancefloor is covered in that weird, inexplicable club-mud. You have been warned. What’s the booze situation?Cheap as fuck. We mean it: doubles are as little as £2.50, with a bottle of lager the same price. What’s coming up at Bunker that looks decent?Well, new night Natural Frequencies on March 23 promises a very healthy dose of jungle and D&B action, while this coming Friday (March 2) sees Safe in Sound raising money for Children with Cancer UK via a night of disco bangers.

What's the absolute shittiest thing about nights out? Creepy bottom-pinchers? Beer showers? Maybe it’s the world-ending hangovers and the fact that going out pretty much ruins the next day. Now, increasingly, party-loving Londoners are avoiding the wee small hours entirely. These days it’s all about days out. And by that we mean day parties, those glorious events where no-one pretends they want to do anything else with their weekend afternoons than get royally on one. Sure, there’s a cool exhibition on at that gallery, but what do you really want to do: contemplate a 3D-printed dildo or throw dutty moves and drink double your weekly recommended units, all before tea-time? Exactly. So cook up a mean breakfast and ignore the dirty looks as you crack open the Holsten Pils before noon – here’s our pick of the best daytime parties across London, from the cheap and cheerful to the serious sesh.

Planning a birthday for your other half? We don't envy you. Thankfully we're also on hand with seven brilliant birthday ideas for boyfriends. From gaming and craft beer, to river boats, pub grub and go karting, follow our advice and you'll have one happy birthday boyfriend. 

In a nutshellThis intimate south-east London club did the railway arch thing back in 2005, and has been cool ever since, booking top house and techno DJs and producers from around the world. Where is it?Underneath two railway arches round the back of Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre. It couldn’t be more urban – bring provincial friends and terrify them. What’s the vibe?Mad-for-it house and tech heads going hell for leather in a weekend sweatbox, whilst gurning students miss the DJs chatting to their new best mates in the smoking area. What makes it a great venue?Corsica is one of those proper ‘cool’ London venues, but not in a painful or wanky way. They have one of London’s best soundsystems, and are involved in developing underused urban spaces around the capital for use as socially minded arts venues. The Paperworks sees Corsica team up with local community groups to provide a dedicated programme of workshops, art events and performances, while The Colombian – basically Corsica’s room three – champions emerging live talent. What’s the booze situation?Bop-friendly bevs you can stick your thumb in while you twerk. You can get a humble bottle of Carlsberg for £3.50, but if you’re splashing out there are fancier international beers, all for less than a fiver. A double is just under £7. Finally, what happens to all the coats left in the cloakroom?They’re stored for a month before being donated to charity.

Re-creating Burt Bacharach, Hal David and Neil Simon’s swinging ’60s Noo Yoik musical in Southwark Playhouse was never going to be easy, and Bronagh Lagan’s production of ‘Promises, Promises’ – a tale of sexual and workplace politics in mid-century Manhattan – feels not only out of place, but out of touch. Not too dissimilar to the rudderless hero Chuck Baxter, in fact, so desperate for a promotion he allows his insurance company executives to use his apartment for their extramarital affairs. Chuck only has eyes for cafeteria girl Fran – who just so happens to be boss Sheldrake’s bit on the side. From the off, jokes fall flat. ‘Get some new records,’ says the leering Kirkeby, one of the execs using Chuck’s place, ‘it’s not easy being sexy to Lithuanian folk music’. Or, in one of Chuck’s asides, ‘I’m sick of all this trash in my apartment – and I’m not too happy about the garage either’. You half-expect a rimshot. In truth, the only reaction was the poor chap coughing behind me, who sounded like he was drawing his last breath. In the moment, I felt shades of envy. The second half lifts somewhat. Alex Young is a riot as devilish flirt Barbara, feeding off a crowd hungry for laughs, and there were moments when she had us in the palm of her hand. ‘Nothing gets past you, does it,’ she coos to the hapless Baxter. The big moment in the hit 1968 production was always Bacharach’s Grammy-winning ‘I’ll Never Fall In Love Again’, which closes the show here. It’s a spirited effort, and di

‘Fuck you, London!’ The acapella close to this spiky alt panto’s second number sums up the sentiment in Fight in the Dog Theatre’s brilliant ‘Ricky Whittington and His Cat’: a no-holds-barred attack on the worst of London life.  Money-grabbing property magnates, crippling loneliness and the terribly misplaced sense of urban optimism that quickly turns to dread for every newcomer to London’s rat race are all in the dock here, with the audience relishing a close-to-the-bone comedy in which we can all, as long-suffering Londoners, see a little of ourselves.  The rodent metaphor, embodied in the villainous Rat King – manufacturer of an impotent poison that causes infested neighbourhoods to be overrun, clearing the way for block after block of luxury flats – neatly transforms London’s dirtier side into fertile comic material.  In the middle of it all, Ricky Whittington and his cat (‘Cat’) arrive from the northern town of Sadforth to ‘seek their fortune’ in the big city. In a parodic attack on the idea of social mobility, the lovably stupid northern lad, played by the fantastic Charlotte Ritchie (‘Fresh Meat’), goes from City Hall cleaner to Mayor of London in the blink of an eye.  The show relies on easy tropes: the north-south divide, universal hatred of landlords and rags-to-riches sentimentality, but it’s got its tongue rammed firmly in its cheek. It’s devilishly intelligent, relentlessly metatheatrical and studded with genuine belly laughs, pitch-perfect original songs and pun

It was the introduction of spice-obsessed criminal mastermind-cum-master of ceremonies ‘El Tabasco’ that the audience at the King’s Head Theatre realised that this ‘Pinocchio’ would depart ever so slightly from the plot of Carlo Collodi’s late nineteenth-century fairy tale. Charles Court Opera’s rollicking, festive panto ticks all the right boxes, filled with shambolic fun, bawdy humour and rousing musical numbers.   The bad jokes – and there are plenty of them – are garnished with satisfyingly self-reflexive cowbell shots that edge the audience’s knowing groans into full blown laughter. The feel-good narrative is punctuated with sing-along pop favourites from Queen to Britney Spears. John Savournin shone as El Tabasco, the villain the audience loved to hate, and was the focus for much of the night’s humour. From ribbing everyone’s least favourite chain pub, to imploring the audience to follow the show on Grindr, ‘Pinocchio’ is full of local colour and scattered with pleasing pop culture references. In a performance staged by the Charles Court Opera at the King’s Head Theatre, it’s no coincidence that the leading villain of piece bears a striking resemblance to a certain beheaded monarch of the late seventeenth-century. And it’s that working-on-two-levels humour that made ‘Pinocchio’ so enjoyable: saccharine pop tunes, Trump-bashing and willy jokes folded in with cheeky political satire and civil war references. If you want to have your guilty panto pleasure cake and eat it,

In the program notes to this returning, revamped collaboration between NoFit State circus and Italian director Firenza Guidi, there’s lot of deep and meaningful talk about ‘a journey through time’ and ‘the story of the fragility of our lost selves’.  That’s all guff really, because ‘Bianco’ is an out-and-out, oohs-and-aahs circus show that pushes all the right spectacular buttons, with no cheesy themes or narrative needed. The show itself is refreshingly stripped-back, with little of the pomp and bombast – clowns, ringleaders, cheap slapstick comedy – that you might normally expect from a family-friendly circus show. ‘Bianco’ shuns narrative and, apart from a small intro advising ‘Here be Dragons’ and ‘no photography please’, there is no spoken content.  Instead, the performances speak for themselves in a succession of increasingly impressive, classic circus tricks, from juggling and tightrope-walking to breathtaking acrobatics and trapeze stunts. Soundtracked by an excellent live band, ‘Bianco’ opens in a fit of orchestrated chaos: stray juggling pins here, a wobbly tightrope walker there. But that rawness is endearing; it makes watching people do really difficult, knackering tricks all the more impressive. The second half delivers a more crafted drama, culminating in a superb duo rope performance using only body weight and gravity, the finale crowned by a snowstorm, a nod to Bianco’s festive context. The energy of the endearingly shambolic opening, however, is what Bianco d

Stretching from Kensington Olympia in the north to Fulham Broadway in the south, North End Road might run through the middle of posh west London but it’s a beguiling place nonetheless. Bookies, boozers and chicken shops sit side-by-side with vegan cafés, outrageous gay bars and contemporary art galleries. And North End Road Market is one of London’s busiest – the kind of place where you can buy a phone charger, a toothbrush, some cheap sunglasses and a bowl of 12 wonky carrots. Here’s one good reason to visit: the food. North End Road is fussy-mate-proof, with Chinese, Indian, steak, Korean, cor-blimey British, North African, Mediterranean and Italian grub all on offer. And here’s another: there are loads of places to grab a drink, from cocktail bars and smart jazz joints to no-shame happy hours and no-nonsense boozers. Chuck in dog walkers’ paradise Eel Brook Common, less than five minutes’ walk from the bottom of North End Road, and you can see why locals feel no need to leave their manor at the weekend. South Ken might have a museum or two more, but how many times have you taken visiting friends to the V&A? Too many times, that’s how many. Mix it up and head to West Ken for a different slice of west London life.       Drink this A classic New York sour from Below the Cut, the smart, ’20s-themed cocktail bar beneath excellent steakhouse Hanger SW6. A strong double espresso from compact café Bonjour Brioche, which also does excellent pastries. A pint of Camden Hells from th

First known as Little College Street, then Great and finally Royal, this stretch of Camden has played host over the centuries to loads of poorly animals and the lovely people learning how to make them better at the Royal Veterinary College. But back in the nineteenth century it was also a magnet for literary types. Decadent French poets Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine brought their tempestuous affair (and the nascent symbolist movement) to 8 Great College Street for a few months in 1873. And none other than Charlie Dickens lived at 112 Little College Street when his dad was chucked in Marshalsea debtors’ prison down in Southwark. Sneaking northwards, parallel to mad-busy Camden High Street, Royal College Street today is an under-the-radar place dotted with weird and wonderful shops, proper pubs, a couple of art galleries and a sprinkling of quality eateries – including the blessedly tourist-free Castle’s, which has been dishing up bargain-price pie, mash and liquor to locals since 1934. To top it all off, the road is bisected by Verlaine’s beloved ‘river in the street’, the handsome Regent’s Canal – so you can enjoy a relaxing, waterside pit stop after your literary pilgrimage. In short, this place is pure poetry. Drink this A post shared by Terry Fisher (@officiallyterry) on Jan 2, 2016 at 10:05am PST A pint of real ale at elegant gastropub The Prince Albert, which manages to draw as many drinkers as diners, so you don’t feel like you’re making the place

Garratt Lane is really long: 1,085 numbers long. But wait! Before you reach for your silly ‘adult’ scooter, calm down, because you can largely ignore the northern reaches, dominated by chain shops and the looming Southside Shopping Centre. Garratt Lane starts to get interesting around Earlsfield: a place which you might not even have heard of, overshadowed as it is by nappy valley Battersea, posh Clapham and tube-blessed Balham and Tooting. It’s just close enough in to feel like ‘proper London’, but it’s still the kind of place whose Wikipedia page lists a Sainsbury’s Local as a site of interest. In a way, Earlsfield represents the best of Zone 3. It’s relaxed and low-key compared with central areas, but has strong transport links, albeit not underground ones. There’s a notable absence of hip, but you can still enjoy a pint of craft ale, sip on a flat white, gorge on global cuisine and scratch your chin to cross-cultural theatre, all on one street. It was laidback enough to serve as the writing retreat for Louis de Bernières, who penned ‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin’ in Earlsfield Library, but still has enough bars and pubs for a decent Friday night. Come and experience a bit of London with one foot out of the metropolis. Drink this A pint of refreshing old-man ale in one of London’s best beer gardens at The Leather Bottle. This place is massive, but very popular: guard your alfresco table with your life. A Nude Espresso from artisan café Bean & Hop – which, as its name suggest

West Hampstead: just the bit of Hampstead that isn’t near the heath, right? Wrong. History lesson: WH started life as West End, a village that grew up in the eighteenth century when merchants started building massive gaffs on what was then largely rural land occupied only by a few isolated monastic estates. The name lives on in West End Lane, which is named not for its proximity to Theatreland, silly, but for its former function as the western boundary of Kilburn Priory. History lesson over. While it’s still an upmarket residential area, thankfully West Hampstead’s focal point has loads more going on than farming and fasting. There are bagels, cool gig venues, cocktail bars and coffee shops, but it’s also home to those token signifiers of deep-set London gentrification: a farmers’ market, a cigar shop and an achingly posh, award-winning butchers. In fact, it’s probably how Shoreditch will feel in 50 years, but with lovely old terraced houses and blokes in tweed instead of glass balconies and creased M&S suits. If you want to feel like an Edwardian gent on a jolly good day out, be brave and carry on a little further west than Hampstead Heath. Drink this   A post shared by Mikhael Agafonov (@mikeymoscow) on Feb 6, 2017 at 4:41am PST A frothy cappuccino in elegant art deco café and bistro The Wet Fish. A bottle of craft in The Railway pub, which in a former life hosted gigs by Hendrix, The Rolling Stones and Cream. Cocktails at The Gallery. Anywhere that encourages y

Range rovers, red trousers, ‘Made in Chelsea’: there’s no end to the clichés about Fulham Road, and like most London stereotypes there is a grain of truth to them. But whilst it is really, really posh around here and, if you’re unlucky, you may well spot an insufferable TV moron (or a group of marauding Chelsea fans), the area still has plenty to offer to those of us without a trust fund. Fulham Road winds through the centre of well-heeled west London, linking Fulham and Chelsea (via a central section locals call ‘the Beach’) and terminating in South Ken. It’s easy to blow your paycheck here, in the street’s top-of-the-range restaurants filled with people who look like they’ve never worked a day in their lives, bulletproof jewellery shops, expensive chains and even its Margaret Thatcher-themed bar, Maggie’s – complete with ’80s music, Babycham and Thatcher speeches playing in the bogs. But Fulham Road is a bit of a dark horse. Behind all the glitz and glamour (read: money), there are places with the right mix of quirk and quality: forward-thinking galleries, proper boozers and unpretentious bars that have ignored the memos from Hackney and Peckham on after-hours irony. And they’ll let you in even if your name isn’t Binky, Bunty or Spencer. Drink this A post shared by CAKE (@thecakeapp) on Dec 22, 2016 at 9:21am PST A Himalaya cocktail, made with vodka, goji berry and pomegranate juice, from Scandi-styled Kosmopol. Filipino-inspired coffee from Muni Coffee Co. Thi

Okay, a confession: Streatham High Road was once voted Britain’s worst and most polluted high street. Granted, that vote was the result of a Radio 4 poll, and whilst I’ve got big love for the 4 (shout out to my man Melvyn Bragg), its broader demographic probably isn’t that keen on south London high streets dotted with chicken shops and Asian supermarkets. But also that was way back in 2002, and London changes so fast that vast chunks of it are unrecognisable after five years, never mind 15. There are still a fair few chicken shops, but now they’ve been joined by a clutch of new bars and vibey restaurants, serving the sprinkling of new residents priced out of nearby Tooting, Balham and Clapham. Where else can you find Moorish, West African and Indian restaurants – three in a row – with Chinese, Vietnamese, Lebanese, Japanese, Spanish and good old cor-blimey-would-ya-buleeve-it British grub just a bit further down? Or a sourdough-only bakehouse wedged between Chicken Cottage and a plumbers’ merchant? Streatham is in that glorious middle stage of poshing up: the sprouts are there, but it’s still very much down-to-earth and ‘real’, whatever that means. So ignore the pollsters and the haters and visit a slice of south London on the up. Eat this A post shared by Gemma Baker (@gemlaa88) on Mar 19, 2017 at 6:11am PDT The King of Breakfasts – free range scrambled eggs with chorizo and smoked salmon – from cute Spanish place Café Barcelona. Crisp-skinned hake and sweet-brai

Londoners are wild for rooftop bars, film screenings, and even curling, but a love for the top floor is a global phenomenon. From calming rooftop gardens and spaces of contemplation to swanky dining with a view, designers around the world are looking upwards for inspiration. ‘Rooftops: Islands in the Sky’ is a beautiful new book from Taschen by architecture writer Philip Jodidio, documenting the trend through illustrations and photography. Here are seven of our favourites from across the planet. [Photo: Timothy Hursley] 1) Das Loft, Vienna   A photo posted by Stefano Cracco (@stefanocracco) on Oct 28, 2016 at 1:23pm PDT At first sight this flash modern rooftop restaurant in Vienna’s historic centre seems a bit out of place. But take a closer look: Swiss artist Pipilotti Rist’s ceiling artwork playfully nods to the gothic stained glass and colourful roof of the Austrian capital’s iconic landmark, St Stephen’s Cathedral, over which the upmarket Das Loft commands breathtaking views.   A photo posted by christina striedner (@christinastriedner) on Jan 10, 2017 at 7:43am PST The floor-to-ceiling windows allow diners to take in the mighty river Danube, ensuring that architect Jean Nouvel’s rooftop design knits Vienna’s waterways to its skies. 2) SkyPark, Singapore   A photo posted by Ekaterina (@emoniava) on Mar 25, 2016 at 6:22pm PDT Is it a boat? Is it a plane? Is it a broken down AT-AT transformed into a pleasure palace in the clouds? SkyPark, in Singapore’s

Always wanted to break a world record on a space hopper? Of course you have! And now’s your chance. London Flash Mob and TickTheBucket have teamed up to organise a seriously fun world record attempt. On May 29 (from noon), they’re asking Londoners to head to secret location in south-west London and jump around on space hoppers. Writing on the Facebook event page, the organisers say: ‘Currently the world record for the most people simultaneously bouncing in one place on a space hopper stands at 2,943. We don't plan to beat that records, we plan to SMASH it!’ The location will be revealed once you buy your ticket – and you can snap yours up here. Your ticket secures your place and you’ll get to keep your space hopper as a memento of your world-beating accomplishments. Now hop to it! Not ready to grow up yet? Find more kidult fun in London.  

Running east from the centre of Shoreditch, Bethnal Green Road is the place to go if you fancy a goggle at east London’s transformation from no-go neighbourhood to hip heartland. You’ll spot plenty of the tensions that often accompany rapid change in a formerly working-class area, like coffee shops and cocktail pubs next door to branches of Iceland and budget homeware stores. But what’s important is that Bethnal Green Road and its environs also show London at its best. Its many watering holes run the full gamut from ultra-trendy to old-man-friendly. While Rich Mix arts centre showcases the best of local Asian and African culture, just yards away Boxpark is at the forefront of new-London cool. If there’s one place that captures the essence of the area (and London itself, to be honest) it’s E Pellicci, a genuine institution in a city that loves to overuse the term. This Grade-II listed caff not only serves up the finest breakfasts anywhere in London – I’ll personally fight anyone who disagrees – but you’re almost invariably forced to squeeze on the end of a table and chat to strangers. It’s awkward at first, but by the end of it E Pellicci manages what no edgy bar could: it makes you enjoy meeting strangers. It’s a riot of energy, a melting pot of people and the food is damn tasty: London in a glorious, greasy nutshell. Drink this   A post shared by The Star Of Bethnal Green (@starbethgreen) on Nov 3, 2016 at 11:43am PDT After-work pints at the Star of Bethnal Green, a cap

Apart from having what’s probably the second longest street name in London, the best thing about Stoke Newington Church Street is its lack of tube and rail stations. That has helped it dodge the breakneck development seen down in Dalston, Shoreditch and elsewhere in the Hackney borough. Yes, it’s hip – but in the sense of people opening up decent local shops, bars and restaurants, cycling everywhere and keeping one eye fixed firmly on sustainability. That doesn’t just mean locally baked bread: there’s a cautiousness about the place, as if everyone is nervously awaiting the announcement of a fifty-storey glass box called Stoke Newington One or Delta Point N16. You get the impression that if anything too wanky opened up, the locals would be out on the street, pitchforks in hand. There’s a reason that people (actual people, not estate agents) call this place a ‘village’. That dialled-down, community-minded cool is nowhere more snugly embedded than in Church Street. There’s a handful of unpretentious yet sophisticated watering holes and cafés, a melting pot of non-chainy global cuisines, and the kind of parade your nan would love: baker, butcher, bookshop, pub. With glass balconies encroaching from all sides, Church Street may end up as the last bastion of independent Hackney. Get down there before the developers do. Eat this   A photo posted by Mol Vaughan (@mol.vaughan) on Jan 7, 2017 at 3:30pm PST Alaska maki or incredible fried aubergine from Fuji, a cosy little Japanese

Killing two New Year's resolutions with one delicious stone, a new sweet shop selling boozy confectionary has opened in London – and it looks amazing. Look, it's February now – who cares if you vowed to give up booze and sugar? SugarSin has just opened at 1 Russell Street in Covent Garden, where they're selling gourmet 'cocktail gummies' including prosecco and cuba libre flavours. SugarSin's massive pick 'n' mix selection contains over 130 carefully sourced sweet treats from all over Europe. If you're a healthy eater, don't stress – SugarSin has got you covered too, with all natural, dairy free, gluten free, gelatine free, no palm oil, vegetarian and vegan options. SugarSin's own handmade range includes old favourites like sea salt fudge, juicy strawberry lollies and elegant cocoa dusted chocolate almonds.  It's time to get that 'kid in a sweet shop' feeling all over again – but with a boozy grown-up twist. See inside the sweet shop:   // (function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "//connect.facebook.net/en_GB/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.8"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); // This adult sweet shop sells boozy gummies! A grown-up sweet shop has opened in London - prosecco gummies, anyone? Posted by Time Out London on Wednesday, 1 February 2017  

Every Londoner has felt lonely at some point. Despite busy streets, packed tube carriages and the virtually impossible task of getting a table at Bao, London can often leave you feeling isolated and distant from those around you. A cross-party commission launching tomorrow (January 31) hopes to tackle loneliness, which it describes as a 'silent epidemic' lying inside every community in Britain. Jo Cox, the former MP for Batley and Spen, West Yorkshire, had taken the first steps toward setting up the commission before she was murdered last June, and campaigners and politicians have named it the Jo Cox Commission on Loneliness in her honour. One of the first actions by the commission will be to tackle loneliness in London by handing out 'happy to chat' badges at major stations tomorrow morning, between 7.30am and 9am at Victoria, Waterloo, King's Cross and Westminster stations.  Under the slogan ‘Start A Conversation’, the commission hopes to educate people on how they can fight loneliness and connect with one another. The initiative has support across political parties and is supported by 13 organisations, including Age UK, Alzheimer’s Society and Refugee Action.  Research by the supporting organisations show that more than nine million people – a fifth of the population – privately admit they are 'always or often alone', but two-thirds of those would never confess to having a problem in public. Rachel Reeves and Seema Kennedy, co-chairs of the Jo Cox Commission on Loneliness,