the Eighties were completely rubbish. From where I stood (in rural Somerset, wearing a skate belt), the gaudy, bubble gum tackiness of the decade's music, clothing and cinema seemed not only ridiculous, but objectively naff.
He nodded politely, but clearly didn’t agree with such a sweeping statement – worried, perhaps, that his boy would never appreciate the quiet power of Phil Collins.
I love the Eighties now, of course. All the synthesisers and hair and sunsets and Lamborghinis; it looks and sounds mega. I long for the Nineties, too.
I didn’t before, but ever since I’ve become a proper adult (over 30) I’ve realised that the present-day world is a terrifying hellscape littered with demagogues, Youtubers and David Guetta.
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