Present: Steve Duncan, Loops, Zero, dsankt
The recent drownings in Fortress got you worried about flooding? You should be. While drowning in water is bad enough, consider for a moment the peril of us London geezers. All the sewers and storm reliefs either flow into or out of the trunk line sewers which collect the copious flow and transport it east for treatment. Further, none of the drains have open outfalls. They all end with giant floodgates, there's no squeezing through the bars here. The top Western branch of the River Westbourne AKA Ranelagh Storm Relief Sewer provides overflow capacity for the Middle Level Sewer. In 30 seconds our relatively dry section of storm relief rose from a trickle to a torrent. Of shit. Awesome.
Drowning in sewage is high on the official Horrible Ways to Die list right next to acid enemas and chainsaw deepthroats. Worse that drowning would be tumbling along with the flow, battering your bones against the bricks, clutching at the walls tearing your fingernails off. Your head lamp is bobbing near you, just beyond reach getting further and further away. You're alone in the darkness, gulping sewage, sinking into darkness. Neither option appealed, cue evasive action.
We shot up a ladder and staged in preparation below a lid nobody had popped before. The lid's lightweight construction indicated a sidewalk/footpath/cycle-lane, hopefully in a relatively quiet part of town. Three affirmatives below me, a grunt and a heave then street light and traffic noise poured into the shaft. Seems the manhole is opposite a tube/bus station. A trifle busier than I'd like, but better than the alternative.
Tyburner
So time to call it a night, right? You haven't been reading sleepycity long enough my good fellow, we don't play that weak shit here. Instead we sauntered downstream and flipped a lid into the same tunnel. The rapid knee-deep flow carried long slithering eels of toilet paper downstream towards the Thames and the Low Level Sewer. Everyone gingerly stepped down into the flow and skated downstream to another overflow - The Egg. The Egg runs West from the River Tyburn, across the River Westbourne and then south into the Thames beside the Westbourne outfall. We dropped from the Westbourne into The Egg and danced around the rats to the Tyburn collecting credit cards (6 this time). Some lad purloined the wallet of an old school baller and deposited the spurious plastic into the drain. If you catch me kicking back in VIP with waders and DP, you know why.
Majestic Curve
Steve Duncan of undercity.org. Underground rivers are his favourite thing. Go son!
The Tyburn is special for passing under some well known tourist spots on route to the Thames. From the throne above comes particularly golden hued nuggets and believe me their shit stinks to. We discussed the fate of a few ams who chose to make their exit nearby. They and their drainer resolve got snapped. Listen young players, discretion is of equal import to boldness. There are times for stealth, speed and cunning, and there are times for that confident 'we own this mufucker' swagger. In a word: finesse.
We were distracted from these masturbation like contemplations by a larger problem. Something in the order of 300kg. Enter the 'smilin hymen' - an 8ft diameter, one inch thick steel flap hinged at the ceiling. Steve and I heaved the fucker open enough to slot in a 3D maglite and allow passage through the gap. At this point the tunnel began to open up considerably into a large semicircle of red and yellow brick. It's big, smelly and once you reach the channeled section, quite dry and easy to traverse. Another good night under London, remember to play safe kiddies.
Puppet Master
I was given the job of staging and lighting this scene. The channel directs the flow into the Low Level Sewer and the main tunnel continues into a concrete tunnel which overflows into the Thames. Dance my puppets dance.
The recent drownings in Fortress got you worried about flooding? You should be. While drowning in water is bad enough, consider for a moment the peril of us London geezers. All the sewers and storm reliefs either flow into or out of the trunk line sewers which collect the copious flow and transport it east for treatment. Further, none of the drains have open outfalls. They all end with giant floodgates, there's no squeezing through the bars here. The top Western branch of the River Westbourne AKA Ranelagh Storm Relief Sewer provides overflow capacity for the Middle Level Sewer. In 30 seconds our relatively dry section of storm relief rose from a trickle to a torrent. Of shit. Awesome.
Drowning in sewage is high on the official Horrible Ways to Die list right next to acid enemas and chainsaw deepthroats. Worse that drowning would be tumbling along with the flow, battering your bones against the bricks, clutching at the walls tearing your fingernails off. Your head lamp is bobbing near you, just beyond reach getting further and further away. You're alone in the darkness, gulping sewage, sinking into darkness. Neither option appealed, cue evasive action.
We shot up a ladder and staged in preparation below a lid nobody had popped before. The lid's lightweight construction indicated a sidewalk/footpath/cycle-lane, hopefully in a relatively quiet part of town. Three affirmatives below me, a grunt and a heave then street light and traffic noise poured into the shaft. Seems the manhole is opposite a tube/bus station. A trifle busier than I'd like, but better than the alternative.
Tyburner
So time to call it a night, right? You haven't been reading sleepycity long enough my good fellow, we don't play that weak shit here. Instead we sauntered downstream and flipped a lid into the same tunnel. The rapid knee-deep flow carried long slithering eels of toilet paper downstream towards the Thames and the Low Level Sewer. Everyone gingerly stepped down into the flow and skated downstream to another overflow - The Egg. The Egg runs West from the River Tyburn, across the River Westbourne and then south into the Thames beside the Westbourne outfall. We dropped from the Westbourne into The Egg and danced around the rats to the Tyburn collecting credit cards (6 this time). Some lad purloined the wallet of an old school baller and deposited the spurious plastic into the drain. If you catch me kicking back in VIP with waders and DP, you know why.
Majestic Curve
Steve Duncan of undercity.org. Underground rivers are his favourite thing. Go son!
The Tyburn is special for passing under some well known tourist spots on route to the Thames. From the throne above comes particularly golden hued nuggets and believe me their shit stinks to. We discussed the fate of a few ams who chose to make their exit nearby. They and their drainer resolve got snapped. Listen young players, discretion is of equal import to boldness. There are times for stealth, speed and cunning, and there are times for that confident 'we own this mufucker' swagger. In a word: finesse.
We were distracted from these masturbation like contemplations by a larger problem. Something in the order of 300kg. Enter the 'smilin hymen' - an 8ft diameter, one inch thick steel flap hinged at the ceiling. Steve and I heaved the fucker open enough to slot in a 3D maglite and allow passage through the gap. At this point the tunnel began to open up considerably into a large semicircle of red and yellow brick. It's big, smelly and once you reach the channeled section, quite dry and easy to traverse. Another good night under London, remember to play safe kiddies.
Puppet Master
I was given the job of staging and lighting this scene. The channel directs the flow into the Low Level Sewer and the main tunnel continues into a concrete tunnel which overflows into the Thames. Dance my puppets dance.
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