The Friday email
One email. Every Friday at 7am.
Six new posts, one hot take and a song we can’t stop playing. It lands at 7am your time and takes eight minutes to read.
Unsubscribe in one click. We never sell or share your address.
- 01Why toast is having a moment
- 02The tram driver who plays requests
- 03A week without a single notification
7AM
Inside every issue
Four things, every Friday.
Same shape every week, so you know exactly how long it takes. About eight minutes with a coffee.
6
new posts
Food, music, tech, city, style and home. One each, plus a wildcard.
1
hot take
A short argument we can’t agree on in the office. You vote.
1
Friday song
A track a writer has had on repeat all week, with one line on why.
1
reader letter
The best reply from last week, printed with permission.
Questions
Before you sign up.
Tap a question to open it.
When does the email arrive?
+
Every Friday at 7am in your time zone. If it’s late, the writers are still arguing about a headline.
Is it really free?
+
Yes. Crumpet Riot is paid for by readers who choose to chip in, not by ads or selling your address.
How long does it take to read?
+
About eight minutes for the email. The posts it links to run from two to five minutes each.
Can I pitch a post?
+
Please do. Send one paragraph and one photo you took yourself through the contact page. We pay €300 per post.
How do I unsubscribe?
+
One click at the bottom of any email. No survey, no guilt trip, no pop-up asking if you’re sure.
The archive
Every Friday, filed in a binder.
Forty-seven issues and counting. Each one leads with a single story; open any binder to start there.
No. 47
Knives out
Pizza with cutlery, headphones as doors and the duck that talks back.
No. 46
Glass and gas
A week in a neon repair shop, pastel shoes and the mug cupboard census.
No. 45
After eleven
Late ramen, old consoles, small cities on four wheels and records on the wall.
No. 44
Flip it
Why every mixtape needed a B-side, plus bikes, disco balls and parking spaces.
No. 43
Front to back
One album in order, one corner shop brought back.
No. 42
Summer's last cone
Our end-of-summer issue: gelato queues, painted streets and moving day.
Reader mail
Letters to the pile.
Replies to the Friday email, pinned to the wall with permission. Hover a lane to stop it.
“I ate a pizza with a knife in front of my Neapolitan grandmother. She nodded. I have never felt so seen.”
“The rubber duck on my desk now has a name and a job title.”
“My monstera has survived four flats. Reading about yours made me cry a little into my coffee.”
“Sent a friend side B a day late. She replied with a song I had never heard. Best trade of the year.”
“Took the headphones off for one stop like you said. Heard a man whistling the whole of a song I love. Thank you.”
“Friday 7am is now the best email I get all week. Please never add pop-ups.”
“Counted the café parking space for a week like you said. Showed the owner. We have bike racks now.”
“The neon piece is the reason I didn’t throw out my dad’s old sign. It’s being repaired now.”
“Our street painted three doors this summer after reading the yellow-house piece. Mine is teal.”
“Played an album front to back while cooking. Burned the rice. Worth it.”
“Bought a disco ball. My cat has not been this happy since the box it came in.”
“Your mug quiz was right. I am a guardian. Nobody touches the blue one.”
Since issue 001
Small magazine, loud numbers.
214
posts on the shelves
9
writers with opinions
31k
readers every Friday
0
pop-ups, ever