Brighton was where it all went wrong. Not that it was Brighton’s fault. There are enough terrible things that have happened because of Brighton without adding me to the list. My failure was always there, it was just waiting for Brighton to make it apparent. Why did we even move there? I asked O, what did we possibly think we would achieve? It’s important to be close to London but not in London, that’s what we said isn’t it?, I said to O, the best music is created on the periphery, we were agreed on that, but we needed to be able to strike at the centre when out time came. Our time never came though did it? I said to O whilst clutching my can of Stella, We were ahead of our time weren’t we? That’s what we told ourselves whilst we shouted and screamed our tuneless tunes wasn’t it? What if it was our time though and we missed it? What were we doing? I asked O, why did we miss it? I was probably drunk, but what was your excuse, what were you doing – watching Diagnosis Murder I expect?

We moved to Brighton to create a music that would move mountains and what did we create? I asked O. Almost nothing, that’s what, we just got angrier and angrier and more and more drunk I said to O. Thank God we lost all sense of shame in Brighton, that’s the only saving grace, the only way I can cope with thinking about it all. When did it happen though, I used to have a keen sense of my own shame, it was one of the best things about me, I said to O, what happened to it? O took a sip of his drink and looked down at the floor; it probably left in shame after you knocked over that man with crutches in Brighton town centre he said.