By Boris Johnson

From chapter 1: “Still they come, surging towards me across the bridge. On they march in sun, wind, rain, snow and sleet. Almost every morning I cycle past them in rank after heaving rank as they emerge from London Bridge station and tramp tramp tramp up and along the broad 239-metre pavement that leads over the river and towards their places of work. It feels as if I am reviewing an honourable regiment of yomping commuters, and as I pass them down the bus-rutted tarmac there is the occasional eyes-left moment and I will be greeted with a smile or perhaps a cheery four-letter cry.

NY. Riverhead Books. Penguin. 2012. 394p. USED BOOK. MAY CONTAIN MARK-UP