Kings Cross 1980's London
fogged car windows, car horn concertos box junction brawls, it’s gridlock on the Gray’s Inn Road tired eyes tired lights tired nights as the rain pummels Kings Cross, someone’s turned back the clocks, window frames in disrepair curtains left to rot, a bulb barely bright enough to illuminate a matchbox hangs motionless through the windows of the squats situated above the betting shops, there’s hookers in the headlights on the back streets of York Way, a girl named Wendy on the junction of Pentonville, she’s selling the finest burgers and fries, desperate to stay alive amid the impending ‘big-mac’ invasion, Ronald McDonald waits for no-one, his fast-food future packed into a sweet sesame seed bun has come for the waistlines and the comfort eaters, peering through the pub doorways, the cockney cartel are still propping up the bars desperate to hold...
