watch out for this
Oh, how I remember those days of Acid House with affection. (Yes, I remember – that surely tells you something, I was far too straight-laced for any of that sort of thing) I was still dressing as though I were in the Smiths, despite my hair not doing a Morrissey quiff, however much I teased and trained it too. If I wasn’t dressing in my slightly (very) long white Meat is Murder t-shirt and wearing a grey baggy cardigan, I’d be either a Robert Smith-u-like or an extra from the Jesus and Mary Chain. Then, one day, there were these boys with masks and chemical warfare overalls on, on top of the pops, playing this sort of squelchy aggressive yet persuasive dance music.
Next thing any of us know, there’s this moral backlash about this drug fuelled nastiness that concerned Daily Mail readers fretted about, while Sun…
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