I abhor dayglo clothes. Unless I’ve just dropped a dove on top of some acid, and it’s 1989, and I’m in a derelict warehouse listening to the contents of Evil Eddie Richards’ record box on a mahoosive soundsystem, and there’s a really cosy chillout bit with giant hammocks, fizzy Lucozade sport and I’ve got some thai stick for later.
I abhor dayglo clothes. Unless I’ve just dropped a dove on top of some acid, and it’s 1989, and I’m in a derelict warehouse listening to the contents of Evil Eddie Richards’ record box on a mahoosive soundsystem, and there’s a really cosy chillout bit with giant hammocks, fizzy Lucozade sport and I’ve got some thai stick for later.
Wait, why did I come in here again?