By Jordan Mooney.
Picture if you will…
It’s the late 90s. A worn down Blackpool bingo hall has been cleared to make way for the usual DJ sets. Nothing particularly inspired, and a crumbling plaster wall with rising damp is all that acts as a backdrop.
The audience is a few teenagers – made up far too much and plastered in neon. The UV light isn’t quite strong enough to pick up their fluorescent make up, and keeps flickering. Within its casing are a plastering of long-deceased flies.
Some dust falls from the knackered lighting rig as they attempt to get the controls for them working. It’s given up as a bad job and the technician goes for a piss. The door to the men’s room is hanging off of its hinges, and on the back of it, there’s a crudely scribbled phone number advertising ‘a good time’.Read More