For a journalist perpetually in motion, London can be rich in meetings but poor in anchors. In a former temple of South London club culture, Larry finds an unlikely — and unexpectedly perfect — place to work…
There is a particular fatigue that comes with being a journalist in London. Not the late nights — those are a given — nor the relentless diary-juggling, the meetings taken on café banquettes, the events attended with one eye on the exits. It’s the lack of a base. A place to land. Somewhere that feels like yours, even when you’re barely there.
For years, I’ve bounced between borrowed desks and borrowed corners. The capital is not short on shared office spaces, but too many feel like the physical manifestation of a LinkedIn profile: aggressively neutral, joylessly efficient, designed to extract productivity rather than inspire it. Private members’ clubs, meanwhile, appeal to my more cultivated instincts — handsome rooms, good drinks, better people — but they’re places for decompression, not concentration. I’ve never quite believed in working where one might reasonably order a negroni at noon.
So where, exactly, does one go?
Enter: The Ministry.
Yes, that Ministry. I’m not talking about ordination, nor a shadowy Whitehall offshoot, but the former epicentre of South London’s nocturnal life — the place where, in my student years, a “definitive night out” meant disappearing into the dark arteries of Ministry of Sound and emerging some hours later with ringing ears and hazy enlightenment.
It is, on paper, the least apposite place imaginable for focused professional endeavour. And yet.
Set within a converted Victorian printworks in Borough, The Ministry is a 50,000-square-foot members’ workspace and cultural hub that feels like a grown-up evolution of its former self — a space that has, much like many of us, swapped hedonism for intention without losing its edge. Where Ministry of Sound once redefined club culture, The Ministry is now quietly — and stylishly — redefining the working day.
This is not a sanitised pivot. The building still hums with energy, but it has been recalibrated. The aesthetic is what the team call “Premium Raw”: exposed timber floors, textured untreated walls, black-painted steelwork, bold art and a sense that the space hasn’t been over-polished into submission. It feels industrial yet indulgent, creative but calm — the sort of place where ideas arrive unannounced.
The offering is broad, but thoughtfully so. There are hot desks and dedicated desks, private offices flooded with natural light, breakout spaces that don’t feel like afterthoughts, and meeting rooms that might actually impress. A buzzing bar and lounge sit comfortably alongside a gym, a wellness studio offering daily classes, and a terrace that — come spring — I can already imagine becoming a favoured spot for stolen moments between calls. There’s proper coffee, freshly prepared food from the deli, a curated bar menu, and, pleasingly, a pet-friendly policy that makes the place feel lived-in rather than staged.
Crucially, it doesn’t demand that you be one thing. You can come to work, to meet, to think, to train, to host. And, so it tells me, The Ministry grows as its members do, with flexible memberships and scalable office space catering to freelancers through to fast-growing enterprises. It’s pragmatic without being prosaic.
But, marketing speak aside, what surprised me most was how naturally it all made sense. In my youth, Ministry of Sound was about collective experience — about people coming together around sound, movement, atmosphere. The Ministry hasn’t abandoned that ethos; it’s simply adjusted its priorities, like we all have. There’s a lively calendar of events — DJ sets, wellness sessions, talks, book clubs, even financial planning — that keep the building porous and social without tipping into distraction.
And then there’s hosting. The Ministry is built for it. From intimate meetings to large-scale launches, screenings, conferences and even weddings, the building transforms effortlessly, retaining its character while adapting to the moment. It’s easy to imagine bringing a client here — not as a gimmick, but as a statement.
Which brings me neatly to next week. I have a meeting in London with someone whose time is limited and whose expectations are not. For once, I’m quietly confident about the address on the calendar. I suspect it will raise an eyebrow, prompt a smile, and — most importantly — set the tone.
Okay, I might be overselling it a bit, but The Ministry, it turns out, isn’t about abandoning who you were. It’s about growing into who you are now.
So, see you there – I’ll bring the glowsticks and a whistle.
The Ministry, 79-81 Borough Rd, London SE1 1DN (as if you’d forget that address). For more information, and for enquiries, please visit www.theministry.com.
