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Ten Years Of Novelty Automation

February 5, 2025
by the gentle author

This week, Tim Hunkin’s Novelty Automation celebrates ten years in Bloomsbury, attaining the status of a popular London institution. Yet when I visited before it opened a decade ago even Tim had no idea what the outcome might be. Join the anniversary celebrations this Thursday February 6th from 5-9pm, with half-price tokens, drinks and entertainment hosted by Tim himself.

Tim Hunkin

I know I cannot be the only one who still has a cardboard file of copies of Tim Hunkin’s genius cartoon strip, ‘The Rudiments of Wisdom,’ clipped weekly from the Observer and cherished through all these years. So I hope hope you will appreciate my excitement when Tim invited me over to Bloomsbury to photograph the arrival of his automata and slot machines, prior to the opening of Novelty Automation, his personal amusement arcade, ten years ago.

There were a few anxious moments as Tim’s nuclear reactor lurched violently while being manhandled from the van. But you will be relieved to learn that all the machines fitted through the door and were safely installed inside his tiny premises in Princeton St off Red Lion Sq, where – for a small fee – Londoners can to practice money-laundering, witness a total eclipse, lose weight, get frisked, get divorced, get chiropody and – of course – operate a nuclear reactor.

The next day I went back to admire Tim’s machines, illuminated and humming with life in their new home, which gave me the opportunity to have a chat with the engineer while he tinkered with the works, making his final adjustments and ironing out a few last minute snags. “I started making things as a child and the cartoons were a distraction at university when I couldn’t have a workshop,” he revealed modestly, his hands deep inside a machine, “I started drawing for a student magazine and that led me to the Observer.”

Leaning in close with a puzzled frown, Tim tilted his gold spectacles upon his brow and narrowed his eyes in thought, peering into the forest of cogs and levers. I hope he will forgive me if I admit could not ignore the startling resemblance at that moment, in his posture and countenance, to Heath Robinson’s illustrations for Norman Hunter’s Professor Branestawm stories.

“It’s much easier to make a living by drawing than by making things, and it’s harder to make things that work,” he confessed, turning to catch my eye, “I often say, I spent the first half of my life making things badly.”

“I just like being in my workshop, I get itchy feet sitting at a desk. But if my body gives out before my mind, I plan to write a huge book about Electricity,” he continued, growing excited as the thought struck him.

“I plan to hang on as long as I can,” he reassured me, returning his concentration to the machine.

“The ingredient you need when you make things is to know it’s worthwhile,” Tim said, half to himself, “There needs to be a point to it – sometimes I leave my workshop and go down to the arcade in Southwold and I see people laughing at my machines there. You can’t imagine how addictive that is for me.” Casting my eyes around the room at Tim’s array of ingenious and playful machines, each conceived with a sharp edge of satirical humour, I could easily imagine it. “I’m quite a loner, so it’s my connection to the world and it gives me great pleasure,” he confided without taking his gaze from the work in hand.

“People underestimate slot machines,” he informed me, almost defensively, “Once they have paid, they pay attention, read the instructions and concentrate because they have invested and they want to get their money’s worth. So you’ve really captured your audience.”

“In the eighties, I had a brush with the Art world, but I prefer the notion that, rather than buy your work, people buy an experience,” he concluded, adding “and you don’t have to be sophisticated to enjoy it.”

All this time, Tim had been fiddling with an hydraulic system which caused the eyes to shoot out of a bust of Sigmund Freud but – at that moment – was failing to pull them back in again afterwards. Constructed of old timber, the device comprised an automated bedroom with dream figures popping up from inside the wardrobe and outside the window.

“The machines are the stars not me,” Tim declared when I exclaimed in wonder to see the mechanism spring into life, ” I’m looking forward to when I can get back to my workshop.” I left him there playing with the dream machine and I rather envied him.

Tim Hunkin and his team deliver their Nuclear Reactor in Bloomsbury

Tim Hunkin and the Dream Machine

NOVELTY AUTOMATION, 1a Princeton St, Bloomsbury, WC1R 4 AXN

6 Responses leave one →
  1. February 5, 2025

    It’s great fun and well worth the visit.

  2. Greg T permalink
    February 5, 2025

    Needs to co-operate with Aardman? ( Wallace & Gromit )

  3. Mark permalink
    February 5, 2025

    Man’s a genius.
    Isn’t some of his stuff on Southwold pier?
    Feel like I’ve messed about on something in the dim and distant.

  4. February 5, 2025

    Absolutely wonderful. The power of iamgination.

  5. gkbowood permalink
    February 5, 2025

    I just love the stuff he comes up with AND brings to reality! I remember seeing Tim
    for the first time on ” The Secret Life of Machines” back in the seventies(?). I was astounded
    that I could finally see how those things worked!

  6. Elizabeth Peel permalink
    February 5, 2025

    Just glancing through the photos…how wonderful! Can’t wait to read this when I have a bit of time.

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