It started, appropriately enough, as a joke. In autumn 2007 I was writing a review for the Evening Standard and I moaned about how difficult it was becoming to find a parking space in the centre of London. I concluded by suggesting that soon the closest space I might get would be outside my house in South London. A few days later I received a cheeky email from promoter Tom Searle, the bowl-haired whizzkid behind an organisation called Laughter in Odd Places.
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