From toilet roll rants to Grime Gran: How I became everyone's nan

Yahoo

31-01-2025

Margie Keefe, 86, is better known as 'Grime Gran'. She's interviewed grime and rap artists from Ghetts and Lethal Bizzle to Ashley Walters and Aitch - and says they all just call her 'nan'.
Grime Gran went from being an underground hit to a viral sensation after posting a rant about stockpiling during the COVID-19 pandemic.
'Why on earth are you all panic-buying toilet rolls? You're not gonna wipe your way through this pandemic!'
That's what I said on Instagram during lockdown, fed up with all the nonsense over bog rolls. I didn't think much of it, but next thing I knew, my rant had gone viral. I was on Australian TV, shouting about loo roll shortages to the other side of the world.
I never imagined I would be invited onto This Morning with Phillip Schofield and Holly Willoughby giving my view on stockpiling, after pictures emerged of elderly people facing empty shelves after greedy people took more than they need.
I'm Margie Keefe — 86 years young — and I've lived in Bethnal Green my whole life. Born on Derbyshire Street, I'm one of eight kids: five brothers, two sisters, and me, the youngest of the lot.
My dad worked as a furrier, back when making clothing our of fur was a proper trade, and my mum kept us all together. It was tough, but it was a community back then — everyone knew each other, and you'd never be short of someone to help out.
I started work at 14, making Christmas puddings in a cake factory. The smell of brandy still reminds me of those days! Later, I worked packing tea for Lipton's, then had jobs here and there, anywhere that needed a pair of hands.
In 1959, I married Tony, a brewery worker like my dad, and we moved into a little flat on Wilmot Street. It was a simple life: pie and mash from Cooke's, fish and chips on a Friday, and always a sense of family and home.
These days, I live with my daughter and grandson, Beau. It's Beau and my other grandson, Roony, who got me into all this Instagram malarkey. Roony's mad about grime music — he'd bring grime artists home after videotaping their latest music, and we'd sit having a cuppa and a chinwag.
They all started calling me 'Nan'. Years later, once they had all grown up, I started a show interviewing them on Instagram. I didn't even have a phone until just before the pandemic, let alone know what a follower was.
Then lockdown hit, and everything changed. I stayed indoors for 12 weeks, only coming out to clap for the NHS. It was tough, not seeing people, and I really saw how loneliness could take its toll. But I had my family, and I was lucky.
What drove me bonkers, though, was the toilet roll panic. People were hoarding bog rolls like they were gold. So I had a little rant on Instagram. I wasn't expecting much, but suddenly, I was everywhere. 'Grime Gran rants about toilet rolls' was apparently what the world needed.
Fame hasn't changed me, though. I'm still just Margie from Bethnal Green. I've always had time for the young ones — whether they're hanging about outside or coming by for a chat. I don't shout or moan at them.
I'll say, 'Keep the noise down, lads,' and they'll listen — they're all lovely, always checking in to see if I need anything.
It's about respect, and I've got bags of time for them.
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A post shared by Margie aka Grimegran (@grimegran)
The Grime Gran thing has taken me to some strange places. I was in Bath not long ago, and this posh fella said, 'I know you! You're the lady from Instagram!'
I've had kids in Romford running up to me shouting, 'It's Nan! It's Grime Gran!' It's lovely, really. People know me now, and they always make time for a chat — whether I'm in the queue at The Range or just doing my shopping.
Bethnal Green's changed a lot since I was a kid. It's busier, more crowded, but it's still home. The problem is, things aren't always looked after the way they should be. I've been fighting for step-free access at Bethnal Green Underground Station; it's stairs-only at the moment, and if you're old or struggle to walk, you're stuffed.
People often ask me, 'Margie, how do you keep going?' And I'll tell you — laugh. If you don't laugh, you'll cry, and what good's that? I've always had a laugh, even in the tough times.
That's why I'll keep having a go — whether it's about bog rolls, social landlords, or dodgy station stairs.
I might have become Grime Gran by accident, but I'm still the same Margie — Nan to everyone who needs one, a voice for Bethnal Green, and someone who'll always tell it like it is.
So here I am: chatting with grime artists, ranting about nonsense, and fighting for what's right.