1980s

New Order — Ceremony

The 80s never really ended. City boys just ditched their Filofaxes for iphones, swapped the baggy suits for skinny jeans, chucked the cocaine for…well, that didn’t actually even change. The banks still call the shots, counter culture is still black and although women earn more they still don’t earn as much as men. Energy companies are tabloid villains and tech is the future. There’s even a woman who runs the country, hell-bent on inflicting her own cruel agenda on the masses.

I wasn’t too happy about this particular contract. I do not like the 1980s.

The central line vomited me onto the pavement at St. Paul’s. The air was dirty and the sun was hidden behind clouds. In a phone box near the station a homeless man urinated against the glass. A puddle pooled around his ankles. We made brief eye contact and his eyes drifted down – the trail of piss had reached my black brogues. Fucking brilliant.

Normally pissing on my shoes is enough to get you on my follow-up list, but I was a little stretched for time and if Margaret Thatcher was my Prime Minister I’d be doing my best to piss on anyone dressed in a suit at St. Paul’s, so I let this one slide. Doesn’t mean I was happy about it so I stuck my middle finger up at him instead and headed down the street. My shoes left wet footprints behind me, a dark stain on the sandstone slabs that lined the street. After the sixth step my shoes seemed dry again.

I was heading to the office of Kobalt &  Kerbisher, an up-and-coming finance firm that advised its clients where to invest their cash. It was technically closer to Bank but I figured the Bank tube station in its 80s heyday would see me start the day in a sour mood, so I opted for the walk instead. I still had to pick my way through men in suits with broadsheet newspapers tucked under their arms. They were all in a similar hurry so it quickly became like a race; I marked myself against a man in a charcoal pinstripe two-piece sporting a red curtain-pattern tie, and marched at an uncomfortable pace to stay ahead of him. By the time I reached the offices of Kobalt & Kerbisher I was almost out of breath. Really needed to lay off those disco smokes I’d picked up, but they were so damn good.

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