Have you ever overheard a walking tour and questioned their abundance of knowledge? Have you ever watched the
sheep people huddled around with facial expressions of deep thought…or boredom? Perhaps you’ve been impressed by their streams of historical facts…or…has this scandalous thought ever sneaked in …. did they just make it up? I mean… nobody would know you are talking bullshit….would they?
Bullshit London was founded in 2013 by Reuben Williams and Rob Smythson. Rob is off being awesome with Son & Sons so currently Reuben runs most of the tours himself. There are also a few other highly trained tour guides who lie in wait (wherever wait is, there are a preponderance of liars there). The tours are mostly nonsense, occasionally factual but always enjoyable.
Dressed in a glittery red jacket, bow tie and bowler hat, the pinky promise of “Your tour guide will be wearing a flamboyant jacket or an ostentatious outfit. You WILL find us” was well-kept. Reuben was a very easy peasy spot amongst the dull, greyness of Moorgate.
Exchanging smiles, names and happy vibes, the weird meeting of strangers, wedged between towering buildings, bubbled the excitement and curiosity. Like a group of friends, we were huddled into the social circle, full of gossip from previous encounters, and then disintegrated into a brisk paced walk around London.
Not willing to share the “truth” with you, I will take this turd of lies and roll it in glitter for blogging purposes.
Named as the “Bullshit London” walking tour, the expectations of Reuben’s potty mouth and foul play are soon demolished as he narrates the adventure with a determined purpose. He’s a man on a mission: To take us “on the path of truth”.
From Moorgate to Bank, you follow Reuben’s fantastical, fictitious rants of London’s invisible walking giants. Trying not to impersonate the nodding dog, Reuben conjures jokes, elbows at corporations, gibes at luxury apartment blocks and prats around with well-loved coffee shops. He is a loaded glitter ball of fun.
Suggesting human beings are “giants’ food” for the game called “The Economy”, he’s a shit stirrer of a political and economical debate….or, in other words, a reality check. Taking away the layers of comedy and wild fantasy theory, Bullshit London explores the overfeeding of pretence and questions our freedom from the main controls of society.
Exaggerating and carving the depths of on-the-spot humour, Reuben calls out to the passers-by as his props or soundboards. He simply has the gift of gab…and the bravery of not being upstaged. Ignored or fascinated, his tour eggs the public to approach with him caution or sudden interest. His vocals preach and bounce from concrete, powdering some colour back into the aching red cheeks.
Reuben relies upon the tumbleweed of silence, pausing for a moment to digest the joke and munch on the seriousness and parody of London’s walking giants. His worldly gift is comedy. Scrambling to provide evidence to support his theory, there’s plenty of mischief managed for a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Bullshit London was far from bullshit. The tour survives on laughter, silliness and audience participation. Like a disciple leading his followers, Reuben engages the group from scripture and prays for individuals to see the giant holy light.
Being blessed with pin badges, they became our keepsakes and documented our
survival discovery of the truth about London.
After Reuben bid us farewell, we all stood outside the Bank of England dazed. Trying to compute seventy minutes’ worth of shenanigans, Bullshit London was the legal high of comedy and laughter was the side effect. Going home was the ultimate comedown, but writing these wacky memories of believing the Bullshit makes me want to go backy.
Big thanks to Reuben!