‘What’s the most popular drink to order at this time?’ I ask the landlord, Tony, at the Market Porter in the middle of Borough Market. It’s 6am, but an orange juice or a caffeinated beverage isn’t what people are after; instead, it’s Guinness.
They are taking full advantage of it being the only pub in London that can serve booze in the wee hours, thanks to a unique alcohol license originally granted in the 1900s to serve market traders.
Embracing the novelty, I settle down with a pint of Angelo Poretti (Guinness felt too much), and take delicate sips as I scan the room. A trio of men in high-vis celebrate the end of their night shift with a round of Stella Artois; next to them is a couple with suitcases who charge their phones while enjoying glasses of cider.
‘We get a nice crowd,’ Tony says, something he clearly prides himself on.
When the bell rings for last orders at 8:30 am, punters finish up their drinks before moving on to bed and planes thirty minutes later, but I won’t be doing anything of the sort. Instead, I will be spending the next 24 hours discovering what London has to offer around the clock.
Why? Despite London being the most popular tourist destination in the world*, I’ve recently been hearing a lot of complaints about one thing in particular — it is not a 24-hour city.
It is the theme of Reddit threads, TikTok videos, and even discussions with my own friends. People argue it’s down to everything from the tube not running late enough to accommodate any revelling, to people preferring a night on the sofa as the options aren’t enticing them off it, but are they just looking in the wrong places? I sacrificed my sleep and step count to find out.
10AM: The Ned
After my 6am start, I head to The Ned in Bank — here the 6’5″ men in finance with trust funds and blue eyes are known to migrate around the converted bank, and so I hoped they’d be kickstarting their weekend on a Friday morning.
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However, while the luxury club’s interior may be 1920s glamour with green verdite columns and beautiful high ceilings, at this hour, it’s not roaring; it’s subdued. There is no band on the centre stage, and the clientele are enjoying pots of tea, rather than Old Fashioneds. It’s a tad disappointing, as I was expecting something more Mad Men-esque.
To fit in with the vibe, I go for an oat latte and chilaquiles (delicious!) at one of their 12 restaurants inside The Ned, Malibu Kitchen, before heading to what are, in my opinion, the best toilets ever, complete with pink sofas, endless marble sink space, and an antique full-length mirror for outfit checks (and selfies). I could spend 24 hours in there, but I have places to be.
12:30PM: The Royal Opera House
Who is having fun in the afternoon while everyone else is at work? Rich, older people, and where are they? The Royal Opera House. Well, at least that was my thinking as I booked the iconic theatre’s afternoon tea and tour.
Glamorous women in kitten heels toddle around behind the stage, as a tour guide reels off facts such as that the building burned down three times, and that Swan Lake was originally panned by critics who said Tchaikovsky’s now-beloved score was too noisy. After an hour and a glimpse at the ballerinas rehearsing for an upcoming performance, I am directed to the café.
As I sip a glass of champagne while eating cakes shaped into rose ballet shoes, and listening to a pianist’s rendition of classical tracks, I realise that this is probably what people who aren’t from the UK imagine London is like, and it turns out it is real, who knew? Not me! Up until now, this is the type of 2pm that only existed on my dream life Pinterest board.
4:OOPM: Bar Italia
Soho’s Bar Italia is playing its part in keeping the city alive by remaining open for 21 hours every day. The authentically Italian café on Frith Street, with its red and white formica bar, neon green sign, and coffee served from a vintage Gaggia espresso machine, has in the past attracted celebrities such as David Bowie, Al Pacino, and Elizabeth Taylor, who came for their coffee, canolis, and limoncello.
Today, it is less famous but still hosts a spirited crowd, including a farmer from the Cotswolds. ‘I spend hours here whenever I come to London. This is the perfect spot for people watching,’ he tells me. He’s not wrong. From my pavement table, I’m watching the street become more lively with each passing minute as afternoon turns to evening. Musicians carry instruments as they head to their evening gigs, women in stilettos ready themselves for a night of dancing, and mods rest nearby on their loud motorbikes.
6:00PM: Ronnie Scott’s
It’s not a long voyage to my next spot, I saunter across the street to Ronnie Scott’s for a Jimi Hendrix tribute, which is particularly poignant as his final performance was at the jazz club. The windowless room, illuminated only by red lamps, means that it feels like time stops as I move my shoulders to the 16-piece band.
I notice a young woman excitedly tapping her dad and smiling every time they announce their next song title. There is a feeling that everyone wants to be there, and, while I may be a little tired, it reminds me that I’m lucky.
10:00PM: Lucky Voice
By now, an injection of energy is needed, and nothing boosts morale like a bit of karaoke, so I visit Lucky Voice in Soho. I recently found out that the most feel-good karaoke anthem ever is Livin’ On a Prayer by Bon Jovi (Three UK and Oxford University came up with a scientific formula that ranked hits against their year of release, number of choruses and BPMs). Naturally, I selected this as my final song, shaking the provided tambourine for extra pizzazz, before I got a knock on the door to say time is up.
11:00PM: House Party
Slipping next door, I head to House Party on Poland Street — a seven-floor townhouse that aims to recreate the lively, informal atmosphere of a real house party in a club setting — which was co-founded by actual Stormzy. Inside an actor, for reasons unclear, dressed as a gnome, takes me for a game of Street Fighter on an Xbox in a secret room, before I dance to Drake in the basement garage.
With London’s clubs in crisis, I can’t help but wonder if a gimmick and a good dose of nostalgia are the keys to sustaining a thriving nightlife scene. The great plus is that being at someone else’s ‘house party’ means I don’t need to roam the kitchen loading bottles into a black bin, or send apology notes to neighbours the next day.
3AM: The Hippodrome
As most clubs across London close, there is one place you can rely on to be open to all, even those who are wearing their 20 hours of consciousness all over their face — the casino.
Leicester Square’s Hippodrome is open for 24 hours for all manner of debauchery. But before I can get to that, I need to address the hunger pangs that begin to hit. I head to the basement of the Hippodrome, where I find Chinese restaurant Chop Chop, which gives me exactly what I need — a beige plate of noodles, and an unexpected pep talk from our waiter, William.
Approximately 1.4 million Londoners regularly work in the evening or at night, representing about one in four workers. They are the reason that anyone can stay out at this time, and rather than be resentful of the drunk people gorging on chow mein, he’s so happy, it’s contagious. When I ask him how he does it, he replies: ‘I’m just grateful for everything.’
With renewed optimism, I take a gamble on a shot of baby Guinness at The Gods Rooftop Bar (at the very top of Hippodrome) before taking a look around the main area of the brightly-lit gaming floor.
The whole venue feels a little like a less polished version of Las Vegas, with its red-patterned carpet and the frazzled look in the revellers’ eyes. It feels like the clean space is putting on a show for me with its dealers in crisp black suits, and the whirring of the fluorescent slot machines. But the people are what are bringing the 125-year-old building to life.
I see romantic pairings who didn’t want to end their date night at a reasonable hour, snog over espresso martinis, groups of clubbers intent on staying out as late as possible, and serious gamblers stacking up their chips. All life is here, and I feel like I’m witnessing a secret world. I lean into the madness and place £10 on my lucky number, 11 (I was born at 11am in November), in a game of roulette. I lose it all in an instant.
5AM: Duck and Waffle
Onwards and upwards (literally), after getting the central line tube to Liverpool Street (you may have to wait a little longer and sit near a man who is using his one long fingernail to swipe through Tinder matches, but it is still going), as I ride 40 floors of the Heron Tower to reach the 24-hour restaurant Duck and Waffle. At my table, it’s mere minutes before a mimosa is in hand, and I watch as a glittering orange sunset dances over the Thames.
When a group of early risers arrive for breakfast with their fresh faces at 6.30am, I know it is time to call it. As one day seamlessly glides into the next one, I have made my verdict: London is 24/7 if you know where to look.
Riding the bus home, I spot a man fully suited asleep in a bus stop, starfishing as if he were in a king-size bed, and I can’t resist doing the same on the back seat of my ride. I am awoken from my slumber by a man screaming at the driver for braking too sharply, just outside my home. This London may not be perfect, but it’s my London and I will always love every minute of it.
*TripAdvisor 2025
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