Yesterday, Leicester Square was overrun by pigeons. And no, they weren't trying to dispute their 6th-most-populous-garden-bird ranking from yesterday. Best of all, nobody had to run screaming with paper bags held over their heads because these birds were paper.

The 5,000 origami pigeons were part of a marketing stunt for HSBC and China Design Now. Printed on their insides were some Chinese artwork, information about the China Design Now exhibition, a map of how to get there and a money off voucher. If only real pigeons could be so helpful!

Leicester Square photo courtesy of Jonny Bentwood and pigeon closeups courtesy of Emma Tysoe, who made 3,500 of the 5,000 birds herself. And yes, her arms are tired.

Big thanks to Londonist reader danwashburn for submitting the item.

London theatre is highly regarded around the world for its resilience, its resourcefulness and downright refusal to stop for anyone or anything. Even during the Blitz, the show went on and so it did when a power cut in the West End disrupted the opening night of a new, star cast play.

Playwright Yasmina Reza has had huge, long-running success already in the West End with Art , and her new play God of Carnage looks set to be just as popular. Having Ralph Fiennes, Tamsin Greig, Janet McTeer and Ken Stott in the original cast can't hurt its chances of extended runs at the Gielgud. And the unexpected shot of adrenaline for the critics who were plunged into darkness an hour into this new black comedy has already provided a few extra column inches about the actors' admirable capabilities.

The power cut occurred because of problems with the Underground electricity system, but after a brief, jocular apology from the theatre owner Sir Cameron Mackintosh himself, the show went on. Being a modern, middle class play about modern, middle class parents having muddled, middle class personality clashes with other middle class parents, there were many scenes involving mobile phones - none of which were ringing as the sound effects were also lost along with the stage lighting. Cue lots of miming and a terribly British back to basics approach, which did nothing but charm the critics who sat through the mayhem and came out with mainly positive words. Bravo to the cast and crew for making sure the show went on.

A little anecdote from the archives while we're feeling proud of our theatre scene: A few years ago, Zoe Wannamaker once stopped in the middle of a Shakespeare performance to shout at a school group who were disturbing the entire rapt auditorium with their early model mobile phones and incessant chatter.

The quality stage actor apparently projected her voice to the back row where the disturbance was occurring, pointing out in perfect diction that it was actually quite hard to do what she was doing and that they were being incredibly rude, then made an appropriately dramatic exit. When she reappeared to resume the play, the entire audience (except the disgraced school group) stood up to give her a standing ovation. We often dream of getting the bus with Zoe Wannamaker, especially when we get caught up in the end of school rush. Wouldn't that be an eloquent and effective replacement for the ineffectual numpties campaign?

Image courtesy of Simon Crubellier from the Londonist Flickr group

Who are Toy! Toy! and what do they do?

Toy! Toy! are a female fronted, party starting 3 piece who set out to flick 2 fingers up at the granny-faced Indie boys.

What's the state of play with you at the moment?

We are currently recording with producer Robert Harder (Babyshambles, Whitey, Cazals) and creating a wall of noise in London, with gigs coming up at The Good Ship, Hoxton Bar & Grill, Dublin Castle and Buffalo Bar.

What do you sound like?

Imagine a Grace Jones look-a-like with the voice of Siouxsie Sioux singing the lyrics of Mike Skinner. Mashup synths, live beats & guitars with Swallow's super sharp lyrics chronicle tales of general absurdity in the world.

We love 'The Me Song' - what's its story?

Its about facebook, myspace and GENERATION ?I?.

Why should we listen to you rather than every other new artist out there?

Because we have a fresh exciting sound and got a few things to say...

Whereabouts in London are you based and what's ace about it?

East London, the markets: Broadway, Columbia Rd, Brick Lane etc

What's your favourite London venue?

Rivoli Ballrooms, Brockley.
Shepherd's Bush Empire for great sound.

Can you think of an unusual London location that should open itself up for gigs?

Every roundabout for open air shows.
London Dungeons
Kebab House on Old St

What's your favourite record shop in London?

Honest Jon's, Portobello Road, brilliant selection of great tunes. They introduced us to Moon Dog. Nice chilled out vibe.

What's your favourite club night in London?

We like Mark Moore's night, Electrogogo, at Madame Jo Jo's

What other new London bands / artists should we be checking out?

Sexy punkers China Dogs from New Cross, great tunes, baaaadddaaaaasssssss live band and they play with their tops off. We ended up embarrassing ourselves singing Eye of Tiger at Kareoke at the White Heart Hotel in New Cross, thanks to their gentle persuasions.

The honey toned Cherry Suico.

Boy 8 Bit ? DJ / producer extrordinaire. He's the dogs bollocks at remixing.

Where can we see you playing next?

Vibe Lounge, Brick Lane on April 1 from 8pm.

What's your London secret?

The view from the reservoir in Nunhead.

Check out Toy! Toy! online at myspace here.

Libraries and whores are not natural bedfellows. Yet in the Wellcome Library on Euston Road you can work your way though more loose women than Genghis Khan on his gap year. The centre holds the world's foremost collection of tart cards -- those colourful adverts that decorate London's phone boxes.

Stephen Lowther is in charge of the smutty stash, which forms part of the library's medical ephemera collection. The holdings comprise single sheet publications that, in some way, relate to health, medicine or social welfare. This includes cigarette cards, magazine inserts, health leaflets and, yes, adverts for whores.

In the line of duty, he periodically checks the local phone boxes -- centering on the unholy trinity of King's Cross, Warren Street and Baker Street -- for new varieties of filth. (Vice work if you can get it.) Over 20 years, the collection has built up to 17 boxes.

Needless to say, it is a treasure trove for the social historian, revealing patterns of immigration, sexual preference and local development. "If nothing else," says Stephen, "it's a history of self-publishing."

The earliest cards in the collection, from the late 1980s, show only an amateur grasp of reprographics -- simple ill-aligned photocopies onto cardboard. There are no photos, only the occasional sketch of a female form or face. Claims are merely suggestive -- this was a new phenomenon, not yet sure of its boundaries. There are no sex vixens here, rather attractive models and escorts for discrete services.

The first colour image in the collection dates from 23 January 1992, and shows a curvaceous QC promising 'Judgement Day'. Around the same time, a fad for day-glo cardboard crept into the mix. A saucy humour is evident, with names like Naughty Sammy Nipples and Madam Stern advertising their diverting wares. But the cards remained modest -- an unspoken rule that nipples and lower bits should be concealed was usually observed, and still is to a surprising extent.

With time, a greater ethnic diversity can be seen. Until the mid-90s, the typical tart was of apparently English stock. From around 1994 onwards, we see Oriental beauties, busty Amazons and Jamaican Dominatrices. Raunchy photographs become common at this point, but are often cribbed from magazines and bear/bare little resemblance to the goods on offer. The production values improve as well. One lady poses next to an inset that shows her recent endorsement by the News of the World. Another has a map, pointing to a bedsit on Warren Street. XXX marks the spot.

The cards are placed by young men, who follow a predetermined route among the neighbourhood's phone boxes, Blu-tacking up adverts and often removing those of rivals. They also compete with the phone companies and local authorities, who try to trash the cards as quickly as they appear. According to Fergus Linnane in London The Wicked City, "In one eight-week period more than a million cards were removed. These would have cost the whores involved £150,000 to have printed."

Stephen notes that there are very few adverts for male services. 'West End Luke' and 'Darren' are two rare exceptions. In the examples he shows me, the head is unseen, while a muscular torso fills the sheet. "People aren't interested in Darren's face," muses Stephen.

What of more recent times? Have the Noughties got more naughty?

They've certainly got more inventive, as increasingly sophisticated designs compete for attention. Stephen points out a noticeable rise in Sapphic services, including 'Lesbian Babes Nikki and Vikki'. The first card in the collection to offer three prostitutes appeared in February this year, showing a trio of 'top class sexy ladies' posing in bikinis on a bed.

The cards sometimes carry a seasonal theme, laden with Sid James-isms. "Why wait for Christmas, pull this stunning cracker now," boasts one. And there's similar nonsense each Valentine's Day.

Transexuals seem to be on the wane, while bondage and S&M are increasingly common, as attested by a 'London Dungeon' you won't find on Tooley Street. And bringing bangs up-to-date, one card features an anime lady with a strap-on dildo.

As a work of (t)art, the call card is dieing out. The rise of the mobile phone means the decline of the phone box, and the collection is not growing as it once did. But virtual Viagra is at hand. Many cards now contain a web address at the bottom, as the industry's shop window moves to the Internet.

Stephen still checks the booths regularly. "I've only been confronted once," he says, when we ask if selecting smutty cards from a phone booth ever draws attention. "A couple of old dears straight out of Monty Python told me how wicked it is. How this sort of thing shouldn't be allowed."

Few people would argue that decorating public spaces with obscene propositions is a good thing. But as this phenomenon declines, it's good to know that somebody is keeping a chronicle. Those 17 boxes of smut from the Euston Road contain a unique snapshot of the world's oldest trade as it adapts to the lusts of a new millennium.

Find out more
The collection of Tart Cards is available for study on request to the Wellcome Library. Sadly, no images of the cards can be reproduced owing to uncertain copyright status.

The phenomenon was studied in the 2003 book Tart Cards: London's Illicit Advertising Art by Caroline Archer.
London The Wicked City by Fergus Linnane is a good source on the history of prostitution in London, from the first reference to a whore in 1058 to the modern day.

Of course, very occasionally the thing actually works, chalk and cheese style, and you end up with perfect domestic bliss. Sometimes lasting friendships are formed, and wedding bells are rung.

Anyway, Londonist has learnt of a new competition organised by housemateheaven.com the aim of which is to celebrate the best and the worst of flatsharedom in London. There will be naming and shaming and small prizes and a lot of fun.

So come on Londonist readers: dish the dirt (um, literally): whether you live with a paragon of the pristine or a selfish slob, get online and enter them. At the very least they might get the message.

Piccie courtesy of Kaptain Kobold?s flickr stream.

GASP.

Yes, it's one of those sign of the times moments when we realise that it is still 'special' for a lady to be trusted flying a plane. Especially when you consider Capt Barton only became BA's first woman pilot in 1987. We can remember 1987. Mrs Thatcher was in charge, for goodness sake. We thought women ruled the world.

Sigh.

Whilst we wish it wasn't a big thing to have Lyn Barton land BA026 from Hong Kong on T5's untarnished tarmac on Thursday morning we've every respect for her; blazing a career trail through the sky for women in a notoriously male dominated profession. Bring her down gently, Captain and don't forget to make a gag about the fingerprinting funk up.

Image courtesy of terminal5insider's Flickrstream.

Welcome to Versus, where Londonist takes like for like and decides which one is more likeable

We believe in a healthy, balanced diet at Londonist and so to correct the greasy but essential kebab research of the last Versus investigation, we now turn to the two juice bars on Leather Lane market.

Walking north from the High Holborn end of the market, you encounter the juice stall - and it looks the business. Cheerful orange plastic sheeting, a broad table covered in bags of nuts, seeds and health treats, a pile of fresh fruit and vegetables awaiting imminent death by blender... it is a visual oasis of vitamin enriched goodness and it's very pleasant to queue alongside the stall with all that natural bounty laid out in front of you. The juice menu is long with lots of appealing combinations but is not particularly exotic - mango is as exciting as it gets. Nonetheless, you can go "off menu" with your own combination and have a yoghurt-based smoothie if just juice doesn't appeal. If you are inspired by the sight of the fruit and vegetables laid out and come up with something you know you'll like. We went for a small glass of the most popular blend, a half pint cup with cute domed plastic lid brimful of carrot, mango and orange. It was good, a little warm but rich, fragrant and sweet and not too stingy with the mango. We went away happy and wondered how the juice hut further north could beat this visual, healthy treat.

The juice hut is just a little trailer with no display and nothing else on offer except juice. Not even creamy smoothies. Prices are the same: £2.00 for a small glass, about half a pint and £3.00 for a large glass which is not quite a pint. And the menu is long but without even the tame exoticness of mango to lift it above the competition. But - but! The little hut triumphs over the stall for three reasons: 1) the juice hut blends fresh wheatgrass shots at £1.50 a go for a really quick blast of super-nutrients or have a shot added to your juice for £1.00 which is a great way of adding the vile but fabulously health-boosting stuff to your diet 2) there's cheerful South American music playing over the sound of the whirring blenders 3) it was very nice to be asked how much ginger was wanted in our small orange, carrot and ginger juice, which provoked the never previously considered reaction: "Ah, go on then, an extra slice". The resulting juice was fresh, sweet and fiery - the winner!

Figures for 2007 show that, despite a borough-wide reduction in crime, parts of Haringey are ridden by burglary. Tottenham Green, St Ann's and Harringay are the spots to avoid if you're partial to your possessions. A one percent year on year increase in home burglaries has been recorded, and the main problems centre around the Harringay Ladder area, where pedestrian-only railway crossings mean that crims can skip over the bridge and away from police cars with impunity.

But hang on, wait just one ruddy second - surely this isn't the same Haringey that a certain Sir Ian Blair hailed as the case study for crime-free civility just the other year? Why, yes it is. After touring the borough in 2006, Blair declared it to be a place where the Safer Neighbourhoods scheme meant residents "are opening their doors, leaving their doors open now, or leaving then unlocked".

Could Sir Ian's indelicate comments have wrought this crime spree across Haringey? Perhaps, or maybe the borough, which ranges from poverty-stricken Tottenham estates to the cappuccino and camembert crowds of Crouch End and Highgate, is just an example of the extreme gulf that exists between the haves and have-nots who live cheek by jowl in modern London.

Image courtesy of nicobobinus' Flickrstream