Bristol: Where the Housing Crisis Bites Harder Than a Vegan Piranha, and a Caffe Nero Welcomes The Ultimate Eco-Warrior.

A Masochist's Guide to Britain's Most Expensive (and Eccentric) City Outside London, Where Endless Protests Mingle with Artisanal Bread and Your Council Tax Buys You...Well, We're Not Quite Sure, yet.

Bristol: A Jewel in the Crown of Chaos (and Masochism)

Ah, Bristol! A city of captivating contrasts, where the bohemian spirit wrestles with eye-watering house prices, and the aroma of freshly baked artisanal bread mingles with the lingering scent of ‘Kill the Bill’ protesters. It's the UK's most expensive city outside of London, they say, a dubious honour that comes with a unique blend of charm and exasperation. So, without further ado, welcome to Bristol, a guide for the masochistic at heart.

Housing: Where Dreams Go to Die (Slowly and Painfully)

Forget those idyllic visions of owning a quaint Victorian terrace. In Bristol, you'll be lucky to afford a shoebox-sized flat with a landlord who considers basic plumbing an optional extra. Space is a luxury, but hey, who needs it when you can pay a premium for the privilege of living in a "vibrant" community? Just try not to think about the crippling mortgage or rent payments, or you may find yourself in the queue for psychiatric intervention, and, if you manage to get an appointment before you die of old age, go treat yourself!

Protests: A Spectator Sport (and Participatory Bloodsport?)

Bristol is a hotbed of activism, where every cause, no matter how obscure, finds its voice. From Extinction Rebellion's theatrical stunts to the perennial "Kill the Bill" demonstrations and everything in between (Palestine, banning cars, banning cyclists – you name it), there's never a dull moment. Just be sure to wear comfortable shoes, as you'll likely be doing a lot of marching (or running from riot police). It's a great way to meet new people, get some exercise, and feel like you're making a difference, even if you're not quite sure what the difference is. And who knows, you might even witness a bit of "excitement" as tensions boil over. A little murder and mayhem keeps things interesting, right? (Just try to avoid being a participant.)

Green Dreams, Red Tape Nightmares (and Bin Collection Fiascos)

Our esteemed Green Council has blessed us with a cornucopia of innovative policies, such as pedestrianising the entire city centre and banning private cars (except for those belonging to council members, of course). Commuting has become a thrilling adventure, where you can test your fitness by cycling up, and downhill for miles on a railway path, where the latest fashions in Lycra attempt to put Paris and Milan to shame and fail miserably. Or try your luck with the notoriously unreliable public transport. And don't even get us started on the bin collections. Schemes galore, but they can't even manage the basics.

Crime: A Touch of Gritty Realism (and Occasional Mayhem)

While Bristol boasts a thriving arts scene, it also has a darker side. Stabbings, shootings, and the occasional riot add a touch of "excitement" to everyday life. But don't worry, the police are on it... eventually. They're just a bit outnumbered.

Council Tax: Where Does It All Go? (Certainly Not Here)

We pay a hefty sum for the privilege of living in this urban paradise, but it's hard to see where all that money goes. The streets are littered with potholes, the parks are overgrown, and the libraries are closed. But hey, at least our council is committed to funding "inclusive" art projects and hiring diversity consultants. Priorities, people, priorities!

Oh, and forgive me for not giving a full and proper mention to cyclists.

Clad in Lycra so bright it could guide ships at sea, they pedal with the righteous fury of a Tour de France contender, even when navigating a shared-use path. Their expressions, a mix of grim determination and smug superiority, suggest they're single-handedly saving the planet, one aggressively claimed metre of cycle path at a time. Meanwhile, pedestrians and other users scatter like startled pigeons, desperately trying to avoid becoming roadkill on the altar of sustainable transport.

Meanwhile, in the city centre Broadmead store, a *Caffe Nero coffee awaits its next customer with the trepidation of yet another demanding protagonist.

He, or she approaches the coffee shop counter, not with a plea for caffeine sustenance, but with an air of eco-conscious determination. "I require," they intone, their voice resonating with the gravitas of a seasoned climate activist addressing the UN General Assembly, "a decaf double-shot soy latte.  Organic, fair trade, of course. And make sure it's organic, fair-trade, and shade-grown – wouldn't want to contribute to the destruction of the rainforest canopy, now would we? And," a dramatic pause, "absolutely no disposable cup."

A subtle nod towards one's own reusable bamboo cup follows, a silent yet potent reminder of one's commitment to reducing waste. A gentle sigh escapes one's lips as the barista, bless their soul, fumbles with the soy milk carton. "And please," one adds, "ensure the soy is non-GMO and locally sourced. We must support our local farmers, after all. Even if we are only in Bristol, where the closest thing to a rainforest is Leigh Woods"

The barista, a young individual whose weary eyes suggest a familiarity with the daily grind of greeting a customer such as this with a well-trained smile (both literal and metaphorical), nods wearily.  They reach for a compostable cup, crafted from the sustainably harvested tears of a responsibly raised bamboo shoot.

"Hold," our protagonist commands, raising a hand adorned with rings made from recycled bullet casings. "Is this cup actually compostable?  I need certification.  Independent verification.  Peer-reviewed studies on its biodegradability.  I will not contribute to the microplastic crisis!  Think of the plankton!"

As the barista diligently prepares the beverage, one's gaze drifts towards the plethora of mugs displayed, not a symbol of the environmental catastrophe that is mass consumption. A mental note is made to write a strongly worded letter to the Chief Exec, urging them to switch to exclusively biodegradable cups made from recycled seaweed for takeaways.

A hush falls over the café.  All eyes are on the unfolding drama.  A nearby customer, clutching a suspiciously large Frappuccino, nervously shuffles their feet.

The barista, now visibly sweating, frantically consults a laminated chart detailing the drink's eco-credentials.  "It's… it's made from… uh… plant-based materials," they stammer.

"Plant-based!" our protagonist exclaims, their voice dripping with scorn.  "Which plants?  Were they ethically sourced?  Did they have sentience?  What's their carbon footprint?  I need to see the supply chain!  I need to know the name of the farmer who lovingly nurtured these plant fibres!  I demand transparency!"

The tension in the room is palpable.  A single, ethically sourced, roasted coffee bean rolls across the floor, the sound amplified in the sudden silence.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the barista produces a certificate, stamped with the logo of the "Global Association for the Ethical Treatment of Flora and Fauna (If such an organisation even existed)."  Our protagonist scrutinises it with a magnifying glass fashioned from recycled ocean plastic.

"Hmm," they murmur, a hint of suspicion lingering in their voice.  "I’ll need to run my own independent tests.  I have a portable spectrometer in my hemp satchel."

Finally, the moment arrives. The decaf double-shot soy latte, a beacon of eco-consciousness in a world drowning in plastic straws and non-recyclable coffee pods. One accepts their cup with a gracious smile, a silent pat on the back for a job well done in the fight against climate change.

The latte is eventually deemed acceptable, after a thorough interrogation of its constituent parts.  Our hero accepts the beverage, but not before lecturing the barista on the evils of single-use lids (even the compostable ones).

And so, another small victory is won in the ongoing war against environmental destruction. Plus, another small victory for me in the world of satire.

The fact remains that the world is being saved, or at least, thoroughly scrutinised one latte at a time. One can only hope that any barista, after such ordeal, will seek therapy, perhaps paid for with the ethically sourced tips from a grateful, if slightly intimidated, clientele. The sheer audacity of a purchase, such as this, and the eco-battle being waged over caffeinated beverages, reverberates through the very fabric of society. You see, it is a microcosm of the larger struggle, a symbol of the righteous indignation of the environmentally conscious, a beacon of hope in a world drowning in plastic and despair, a… well, it’s a latte.  But a very important latte.  A latte in other coffee shops that probably cost more than my eco-friendly pack of bamboo loo rolls. Bamboo saved from the ravages of an overfed panda at London Zoo (don't even get me started on Zoo's, by the way!).  A latte that I’m pretty sure just judged me. And you know what? It’s probably right to judge me. I haven't even recycled my aura today.

In a society where sipping a latte is a political statement, one must ensure their beverage aligns with their values. After all, what's the point of saving the planet if you can't Instagram a picture of your reusable bamboo cup while doing it?

So, there you have it - a glimpse into the joys of living in Bristol. It's a city where you can experience the best (and worst) of urban life, all for the price of a small fortune, your sanity, and maybe a bit of personal safety. But hey, at least it's never boring. And who knows, maybe one day, things will get better. But don't hold your breath.

• Disclaimer (the legal bit):

• 1. References made regarding Caffe Nero were written purely for satirical purposes, and not in the least representative of Caffe Nero employees, the Bristol store, any other Caffe Nero store, or Caffe Nero UK, its products, and suppliers (the legal bit).

• 2. No coffee beans were harmed in the writing of the above blog post.

• PS. If you believe anything I write, you’ll be pleased to learn that your entry to the ‘Global Pleb of the Year Award’ has been automatically registered, and no further effort is required by you.