Ditch the twinkly nonsense and bougie wax blobs. Real Londoners know the true glow gods are buzzing tubes of light. Big, deliberately extra, and louder than a rowdy night bus, neon is buzzing again, and it’s got serious glow about it. From what’s left of Soho’s neon jungle to Brick Lane’s glow-up corners, neon signs are London’s unofficial therapy lights. They mock, shine seductively, and sometimes spell things wrong—but that’s peak London energy.

Let’s be honest: this city’s grey. It rains sideways. Half the buildings look like they were inspired by tax returns. So when a overconfident pink sign says "Keep Serving Looks" from inside a café you can’t afford, it hits different. It’s a serotonin boost via electric bill. And no, it’s not just for Instagram. Neon in London has a legendary glow-up, mate. God’s Own Junkyard in Walthamstow?

An eyeball massage. If you haven’t been—go. Bring sunglasses. And maybe a friend to keep you grounded, just in case. Neon is the shared hallucination. Pubs, vape lounges, even pet groomers are getting in on the action. Pop up a glowing "You’re Home-ish" and suddenly your flat viewing feels like a music video with mould. And the phrases—oh the quotes. "It Was All A Dream." It’s like being mocked lovingly by a spirit guide made of LED. Is it cheesy?

But also comforting. Neon signs in London aren’t just decor. They’re part party, part therapy, and fully over-the-top and proud. They say: "Yes, the rent’s a joke, the bins are overflowing, and the air smells of vape and regret—but look at this glowing pink banana. Now go vibe." So next time one catches your eye—probably in a pub loo whispering "You Got This" as you reevaluate your last five decisions—just nod.

The sign believes in you. Even if it’s buzzing like a wasp.

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