![]() “You can't really define it by anything.” “But we were sort of more this end and…” He looks around. Margaret Thatcher’s old constituency is next door, all lower-middle-class up-by-the-bootstraps striving. It is, like a lot of bits of concrete North London, absolutely fine. It’s not on the Piccadilly Line like Southgate, and it’s not really, really fancy like Muswell Hill. The Stath Lets Flats creator is giving me a tour of his childhood home, which isn’t a place which tends to pop up on influencers’ top picks in the capital. It’s a dazzlingly bright early February morning in this unremarkable wedge of North London between Finchley and New Southgate where Demetriou grew up. ![]() I was like, ‘Again, this doesn't feel like concise, communal help.’”īreath rising in front of his face, he digs his chin into his jacket. “And I remember being on the floor, and the security guy came over and was like, ‘Mate, I saw the whole thing. “Someone stopped, leaned out the window and went, ‘Oi! If you don't stop in the next five minutes, I'm gonna call the police.’ I was like, ‘ Five minutes?!’”įortunately the gang pegged it and Demetriou stumbled into the Co-Op, knocking over a magazine stand. “They threaded my arms through some railings and then all took turns to punch me in the face for a while.” He was pretty badly beaten up, but help arrived. When he was 15, six boys jumped him outside the shop front, hoisted him in the air – “like it was my wedding or something” – and took him across the road. Jamie Demetriou has just remembered why he has strong feelings about the Friern Barnet Co-Op.
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