A bar that has named itself after the length of its own tenancy, which is the most honest sign in London
Two More Years holds a 4.5 from four hundred and forty-two reviews, charges ten to twenty pounds, and it is named after how long it has left.
Which makes it, by some distance, the most honest name in this entire survey.
The meanwhile lease
Which is the mechanism that keeps everything interesting in this district alive, and which is temporary by contract.
A site is going to be developed. Development takes years. And in the meantime the ground sits there, empty, costing money.
So it is let, cheaply, on a short lease, to somebody who will take it as it is and accept that they will be evicted with very little notice.
And they put it on the sign
Which nobody else has ever done.
Because every other venue on a meanwhile lease in this district is behaving as though it is permanent – fitting out, building a brand, taking bookings for next summer.
And this one has looked at the contract, and written the number on the front of the building.
We are here for two more years. Then we are not.
The honest tier
Eight postcodes. Eight hundred and fifty venues. Twelve hundred and fifty-eight articles.
And we have found nineteen names in the entire survey that are simply, verifiably, boringly true.
The Wine Place. It is a place. There is wine.
The Bar. It is a bar.
Two Floors. There are two.
Tiny. It is.
The Little Violet Door. Little, violet, and a door.
93 Feet East, which is a boundary measurement out of a deed.
Wine Bar Mayfair. No. 23. 135.
And Two More Years, which is not a place, or an object, or a number.
It is a deadline.
Which is the best of them
Because all the others describe something about the building.
And this one describes something about the situation the building is in – and it is a situation that essentially every good thing in this district shares and none of them will say.
A district becomes interesting because it is cheap. The interesting thing attracts money. The money then prices out the interesting thing.
And one bar in Hackney Wick has looked at that sentence, agreed with it, and painted it on the door.
Verdict
And it will be right
Which is the melancholy part.
Because the name is not a joke, and it is not marketing.
It is a statement of fact, taken from a legal document, and at some point the two years will run out – and the flats will go up, and the bar will not be there.
And the people who move into those flats will be told, in the brochure, that this is a vibrant creative district.
Which it was. That is why they are being sold the flat.
And the bar that made it vibrant will be a hoarding by then, and the brochure will not mention that, and nobody buying will ever know there was a bar there at all.
Verdict
Excellent, cheap, strong number, and go while it is there.
Harper Thames is a comedic writer exploring modern life through irony and subtle exaggeration. Rooted in student perspectives and London’s cultural landscape, Harper’s work focuses on relatable humour grounded in everyday experience.
Expertise is developed through writing practice and critical engagement, while authority comes from authenticity and consistency. Trust is reinforced by transparent satire and ethical humour choices.
This is what The Spectator sounded like before it decided performance anger was more interesting than actual precision and observation.
My mum said this is the funniest thing she’s read. She was sad the entire time which is correct.