“Two institutions of Berlin”

I’m going to say it again: today we’re sitting with two institutions of Berlin.

One of them is Maurice.
The other one is Andrew.

Andrew
Why do I feel like you’re saying we’re old?

Sigrid
No, no. Maybe a little bit, but honestly – who’s actually old in Berlin?

The other day I heard it’s now easier to get into Berghain if you’re over fifty.

Andrew
I totally believe that. I always feel like Sven remembers me from back in the day. But the other day I thought, no, he just sees your grey hair and thinks: yeah, come on in, man.

Back when Berghain was Ostgut

Sigrid
So back in the days before you had grey hair?

Andrew
Yeah, back then it wasn’t even called Berghain. It was Ostgut, in a different location.

Sigrid
When did you officially arrive in Berlin?

Andrew
In 2000. Officially.

Before that, I lived in Frankfurt am Main for two years and was coming to Berlin about once a month for work, from 1998. Berlin back then was exactly what everyone was talking about: way fewer people, a city half-empty and half-undefined, like a book that hadn’t been updated in forty years – and you could just start writing new chapters.

At the moment, we’re talking with Andrew, who’s been here for more than 25 years, and with Maurice. Together, they run something called TwentyPercent Berlin.

What is TwentyPercent Berlin?

Sigrid
So, what is TwentyPercent?

Maurice
TwentyPercent Berlin is a newsletter we’ve been doing for about three and a half years – and now also a podcast, which we started around six months ago.

It’s a local news newsletter in English for people living in Berlin. Basically:

If you live here, can read English, but don’t speak enough German to follow local media, we’re for you.

Andrew
The idea started because I kept meeting expats who didn’t know who the mayor was, or why a certain building was being built, or what the big local debates were.

And the reason is simple: if you can’t read German, you can’t access most of the coverage.

We were both working at the Berliner Zeitung, doing an English edition in the middle of the pandemic. We wrote daily Covid updates in English and built quite a fan base.

Then, at some point, they decided they didn’t need us anymore and laid us off.

The next day we started TwentyPercent Berlin on Substack. And we then discovered…

Maurice
…that we didn’t need them either.

Sigrid
What you can’t see right now is that both of them also have a fan base because they’re annoyingly good-looking.

Check out TwentyPercent Berlin and you’ll not only read their work, you’ll see them too.

Maurice
Well, we don’t have a video podcast.

Sigrid
But you are on video.

Maurice
You can see Andrew all over TikTok and Instagram. He’s quite the TikTok star, actually. He’s also a stand-up comedian, so he’s far more used to being in the spotlight.

Why “TwentyPercent”?

Sigrid
We’re back with TwentyPercent Berlin.

I’m guessing the name comes from the fact that around twenty percent of people in Berlin have foreign roots?

Maurice
Close. The name was Andrew’s idea, and it’s actually based on the share of people in Berlin who don’t have a German passport.

That used to be 20 percent when we started – I’m part of that as well, by the way.

Now that number’s gone up to around 24 percent in the last three years, so people keep asking if we’re going to change the name.

We won’t. It doesn’t make sense to rename ourselves every time the statistics shift. Maybe when we hit 30 percent, we’ll talk.

Explaining Germany… and joking about it

Sigrid
Andrew, besides being a journalist, you’re also a stand-up comedian, TikToker and professional explainer of “what it’s like to live in Germany.”

Andrew
Yeah. As journalists, that’s basically what we do full-time anyway: explain Germany.

Then, on the side, I was always making little jokes about how weird this country is.

When TikTok came, I made one video as a joke and it went viral. So I thought, okay, maybe I can lean into this.

Now I do it regularly – poking fun at Germany – but I’m not huge, I don’t have 100,000 followers or anything.

Maurice
He’s humble bragging. He’s constantly touring Germany, doing comedy in English and German.

Andrew
That has less to do with Instagram and more to do with the fact that speaking German is, in itself, a comedy act.

EC-Karten, cash, and the joy of making payment difficult

Maurice
For context: I am German-German. German parents, German passport. Today I was at the Bürgeramt getting a passport for my six-year-old son.

The officials looked a bit confused because I was speaking English to my kids. They don’t really speak much German.

But of course, one of the joys at the Bürgeramt is… payment.

The Bürgeramt in Prenzlauer Berg didn’t accept card – only EC card or cash – so I had to go to another Bürgeramt to pay cash into a machine to settle the fee.

Last month I did the same thing in Neukölln, and there it was totally fine to pay with a credit card. Every little office has its own rules.

Andrew
Germany must be the only country in the world where it’s actually hard to give people money.

Restaurants that only take cash. Offices that refuse cards.

You’re standing there thinking: I want to pay you. Why are you making this so hard?

Maurice
And EC cards… half the country still relies on them and half the banks are already phasing them out.

Andrew
They’re supposedly being phased out, which means in Germany they’ll still be around for another 15 years.

The other day I saw a small casino in Tempelhof with a sign: “We take Deutschmarks.”

Sigrid
We definitely need to do a show there and try paying in Deutschmarks.

The “German burnout”: fear of change

Sigrid
In a previous Walheimat talk, Paul Spies mentioned a term I love: The German Burnout.

If I just say that phrase – “German burnout” – what comes to mind?

Andrew
I think what Germans fear most is change.

They really don’t want things to change.

The fall of the Wall was already a massive shock – existentially, politically, socially. That alone would’ve been enough for a century.

Since then, we’ve had: technological shifts, new geopolitical realities, rising Asia, American instability, climate crisis, wars closer to home. Everything that used to feel fixed is now moving.

And I think a lot of German burnout is basically:

“We’d like to go back to around 1986, please.”

They’re overwhelmed by the speed and scale of change.

Maurice
I also think of the word Überforderung – being overwhelmed.

A lot of people here process change in this very methodical, deep way. They take every risk seriously and carry the weight of it.

But that also means: It often lacks lightness.

The default mindset is “glass half empty”.

Andrew
I take a lot of trains. The moment a track change is announced or a carriage order changes, the panic on people’s faces is wild.

They look like the universe has broken.

I want to shake them and say:

“What do you think is going to happen? You’ll miss a train and take the next one in an hour. That’s it.”

But the idea that their little fifteen-minute plan is suddenly different completely destabilises them.

There used to be a political slogan, I think from the CDU: “Keine Experimente” – “No experiments.”

That mindset dominated for decades. And now we are where we are: overloaded, stuck, anxious.

We actually need some experiments now.

Where internationals come in

Sigrid
This fear of change is also where I see a role for us internationals.

Most of us who’ve migrated are used to chaos. We’re more flexible by training. We had no choice.

So in moments where Germans freeze, we can sometimes move.

Andrew
Yeah. It’s like the EC card example at the Bürgeramt. You look around at your German friends and go:

“How is this okay for you? Why do you accept this?”

Every time you try to introduce a small improvement or a new idea, you crash into this huge invisible wall of:

“Ja, aber… das geht nicht.”

Maurice
I often experience this on public transport with my kids.

I’ll be alone with two small children on the U-Bahn and people will just stare.

No smile. No help. Just… staring.

I often wonder: Is it because I’m a man with two kids?

Because I’m tall?

Because I’m speaking English?

All of the above?

It’s the same when parking. The other day some guy watched me park my car the entire time. No expression. Just staring.

Eventually I got out and said, “Kann ich Ihnen helfen?”

He just grunted, “Ja.”

It’s the German stare.

Sigrid
Our house gnome, Herman the German, normally answers these questions. His advice is:

Just stare back. See who flinches first. Turn it into a game.

What “German” thing have you adopted and actually love?

Before we wrap, something positive:

Andrew, you’re not German. Maurice, you are.

What’s one “German” habit you’ve adopted and now genuinely like?

Andrew
I love that everything is closed on Sunday.

I absolutely love it.

One day a week where:

you cannot go shopping,

the city slows down,

you’re forced to do something else.

Call it Sunday, call it Wednesday – I don’t care. Every country should have one day where consumer life just shuts up.

Maurice
I think I’ve become a proper Sparfuchs – a bargain fox. I love a good deal now.

The other day I had the chance to get free detergent. All I had to do was:

Go to the shop

Buy the product

Take a picture of the receipt

Upload it to a website

Wait three weeks

Then I got seven euros back. And I was so excited.

Andrew
You spent more money in time and effort than you got back.

Sigrid
Our producer Marlene is nodding and smiling way too hard.

Marlene, what’s your inner German thing that you’ve fully accepted?

Marlene
Doing this show has made me realise: I’m a walking cliché.

The one that really hit me is Abendbrot – the classic German cold dinner with bread, cheese, cold cuts, pickles.

As a kid I hated it. Now I love it. I do it without thinking. It’s literally planned for tonight.

Andrew
It’s so convenient. I make dinner most evenings because my wife works late.

Abendbrot is genius:

Open fridge

Grab bread, some jars, cheese, spreads

Put everything on the table

Done.

My German wife loves it. If I really want to do something nice for her, I prepare a “proper” Abendbrot.

Maurice
I don’t do Abendbrot. I cook dinner. I don’t really eat bread anymore.

Sigrid
I think 90 percent of your German soul just died.

Why are Germans so weird about tech?

After faxing our playlist to the studio – because, of course, this is Germany – we need to talk about tech.

Why do you think Germany is so behind when it comes to digitalisation?

Andrew
The funny thing is: 25 years ago, Germany wasn’t behind.

They loved ISDN, DSL, all that. Siemens was big. They were proud of their engineering.

Then came Datenschutz – data protection – and they took a hard left turn.

Now, the logic seems to be:

“If someone has my data, they can own me.”

This paranoia now blocks everything.

This morning I had to sign a form so a doctor is allowed to examine my kid at kindergarten and send the results to the local health office.

You feel this weird Cold War shadow:

“If we give the state data, we’ll get another Stasi.”

But then at the same time, the one thing everyone is totally happy to give the state is their address. The Anmeldung is mandatory.

So if you’re really worried about government control but happily register your exact address… the rest of the logic kind of collapses.

You can’t take a photo of them in public, but their full name is on the doorbell.

Sigrid
And then you have the sauna culture. You can sit completely naked next to your boss, but don’t you dare keep their email in a newsletter tool.

Andrew
Exactly. Every comedian in Berlin goes to the same spa, Vabali. So now they’ve all seen each other naked. Nobody wanted that. I don’t go. I don’t need that much honesty.

Sigrid
There’s now talk of banning tourists from FKK beaches so they stay “properly German”.

Maurice
How do they know who’s a tourist?

Andrew
Probably from how slowly they get naked.

So what is TwentyPercent Berlin really?

Before we let you go, give us the short version:

What’s the core of TwentyPercent Berlin, and where can people find you?

Andrew
You can find us at twentypercent.berlin.

Twice a week we summarise the biggest Berlin news stories in English. Local politics, Transport, Housing, Weird scandals and small things that actually affect daily life.

We focus only on Berlin, because there are enough English-language outlets for “Germany in general”, but almost none for hyper-local Berlin stuff.

We try to add a bit of humour, commentary, and context. Straight German news can be very dry. If we just translated Tagesspiegel word-for-word, we’d all fall asleep.

Maurice
A friend of mine said:

“What you and Andrew do is basically satire – especially Andrew.”

I think there’s some truth to that. We sneak a little bit of “ha ha” into every story.

Andrew
Look, it’s German news and German humour. It needs all the help it can get.