Reclaiming our streets – an eye witness account

By Jonathan Roberts / @robertsjonathan

Returning home from a dinner party to Clapham Junction last night may not have been the smartest move. Like everyone, we looked on in horror whilst munching on fondue (oh yes, fondue don’t you know) as BBC News brought us appalling images from Croydon, Hackney and elsewhere.

At 10.30pm I made the short trip back to Clapham Junction, only to be met with carnage. Whilst I would normally have turned left out of the station, I was asked to turn right (“There is no way I’m letting you down there mate”, said the policeman, “there’s petrol everywhere”).

I was thus forced to walk the long way around. And it was a long and dangerous walk. Indeed, I was condemned to walk home via a housing estate which was clearly a command centre of the atrocities taking place. As I walked through the street, with smashed street lamps keeping visibility low, something was instantly clear. I was surrounded. Hundreds of rioting idiots, mostly of teen-age, swarmed around me like locusts. What they were doing was extraordinary. Along the road there must have been close to ten separate caches of loot. TVs, trainers, jewellry and the likes. Two or three perpetrators would stand guard over their newly acquired belongings whilst their friends would go out and get more. The piles were growing in size quickly.

Elsewhere, the looters found dark corners to assess their new acquisitions. I saw them exchange ill-fitting trainers with each other, and even heard the words ‘that tracksuit is perfect for my sister’s birthday present’.

Through the evening I saw my adopted London district, normally a peaceful epicentre of middle class young professionals, descend into anarchistic chaos. Petrol bombs, arson, assault, theft, robbery and criminal damage. I am not exaggerating when I say it was like a scene from a post-apocalyptic Hollywood movie. As police resources were initially diverted elsewhere, Clapham Junction faced hours of lawlessness before the reinforcements arrived.

But you know what? I love London. Absolutely love it. Not because of what happened last night, but because of what happened this morning. From 9am, those of us who took the day off work armed ourselves with brooms and binbags. We swept and tidied. We comforted distraught business-owners seeing the damage for the first time. We made cups of tea for police officers and made sure we said ‘keep up the good work’. We knocked on the doors of the elderly to make sure they were OK, and visited the supermarket to get supplies for those too scared to leave. We shook hands with perfect strangers who, as it turns out, only live a few doors down the street.

London is an extraordinary city, with extraordinary people. Our communities are strong. Our people generous. For us this isn’t about politics, it’s about identity. It’s about good people making a decision not to rely solely on our excellent police force, but instead to stand up and be counted themselves. Bit by bit, we will reclaim our streets, and when it’s done, London will stand taller than ever.