Twenty-six years ago today, on 30 April 1999, the heart of Soho was shaken by an act of senseless violence. The Admiral Duncan pub, a long-standing fixture of London’s LGBTQ+ scene, became the target of a nail bomb attack that killed three people and injured over seventy others. What was meant to be a regular Friday night — full of life, laughter, and community — turned into one of the darkest days in recent memory.
The bomb was the third in a series of attacks carried out by a far-right extremist aiming to stoke hatred and division. This time, he struck the very centre of queer life in the capital — a deliberate and cowardly act intended to intimidate and isolate. But the response from Londoners, and from the LGBTQ+ community in particular, was the exact opposite of what he sought to achieve.
In the days that followed, candles were lit on Old Compton Street. Flowers piled up along the pavement outside the pub. And people gathered — not just to mourn, but to reclaim the space. The message was clear: hate has no place here. We do not disappear. We do not back down.
The victims — John Light, Nik Moore, and Andrea Dykes, who was four months pregnant at the time — are remembered not just for the tragedy of their loss, but for the lives they lived and the love that surrounded them. Andrea had been out celebrating with friends and her husband Julian, who survived the blast but suffered life-changing injuries.
The Admiral Duncan has since been rebuilt, not just physically but emotionally, as a symbol of resilience and remembrance. A memorial plaque sits proudly within the pub, and every year on this date, tributes are paid to the victims and survivors, and to a community that refused to be silenced.
In a world where progress often feels fragile, the bombing remains a stark reminder of how quickly hate can manifest — but also how powerful solidarity can be in the face of it. Today, as we mark twenty-six years since that terrible night, we remember not only what was lost, but also the strength and unity that rose in its place.
An audio clip is attached below, featuring my conversation with Eddie Nestor on BBC Radio London, reflecting on the events of that night and the legacy it has left behind. I had only just moved to London a few weeks earlier, and I’d walked past the Admiral Duncan pub moments before the bomb exploded behind me. I was physically unharmed — but the memory has stayed with me ever since.
Frank Loman 