ÒWe have our own words, scrawled on bits of paper smudged with some grimey hope. Angry chords waver out from the broken cassette-players Ð and every now and again a curious prisoner comes out for a look and never returns.Ó
Tony Drayton
A series of recollections, memories, imagined dreams perhaps from the collective memories of those who lived through the punk and anarcho-punk years.
Tales recalled of times past and a glorious tribute to the bands and the crowds who made the 1980Õs so special for so many of us.