Piccadilly Circus is one of the busiest spots in London, a non-stop swirl of traffic, flashing electronic billboards, and pedestrians. But amongst the whirl is an enduring symbol of constancy: the Odd Erection Guy.

I don’t know who he is, or what he’s doing, but when I pass through Piccadilly, he’s almost always there, standing in front of the same fountain. He’s an Asian man in his twenties or thirties, with large mirrored sunglasses. His crisp black military cap, with its red sash and a gold medallion, would make him look like a soldier or a limo driver, if it weren’t for his baggy plaid pyjama bottoms.
He’s always holding the same sign. It features the words “Odd Erection,” above a black and white image of a strange blurry shape that could be a cloud, or a rag doll, or, yes, a particularly odd erection.
I have no idea who he is, or why he’s there. He’s just one of those people whom everybody in the City sees–like the guy who wanders Oxford Street with a megaphone, calling, “Are you a winner, or are you a sinner?” I think of him as a human monument, as permanent and nearly as inanimate as the four bronze horses in the fountain behind him. On the rare occasions when I pass by and don’t see him, I am mildly disconcerted. If he’s gone, what’s to stop the bronze horses from galloping off as well?
Fortunately, he’s there today–but there’s no stopping progress, and something has changed. His sign is gone. Instead, he’s wearing a t-shirt, with the same image and the same phrase, thereby saving him the trouble of holding up a sign.