I live in Highgate, north London, where I once walked down the high street behind an old lady and a young man who was perhaps her grandson. "That used to be the fishmonger's," she was saying. "That was the hardware shop, this one was the pork butcher's." It was quite heartbreaking, since most of the shops in Highgate are now occupied by traders selling knick-knacks for middle-class people with too much money. (For about two years, there was a shop in Highgate that sold only fat beige candles.) Either that, or they are occupied by estate agents. Of around 45 shopfronts, 15 must be occupied by estate agents. Many of the people who work in them are very nice, but I would evict them all, so that people can start living in the area rather than investing in it.

That's Highgate novelist Andrew Martin, contributing to a New Statesmen article in which various thinkers are asked for their Christmas eviction nominations. Personally, I don't understand the logic. But enjoy the article anyway, don't miss Ken Livingstone's kicking at the pen of designer Stephen Bayley, and don't expect to return to it in any 24 hour time span, as the New Statesman prefers its online readers to pay for the privilege.