We seem to have just missed out on a decade’s worth of excitement, and to be looking back beyond it, Ray Davies style. AC/DC play in the student union, to four dozen apathetic students, some of whom unwisely throw the odd bottle, and a few local lads. Deafening, bludgeoning and pure vaudeville. Two weeks afterwards we are helpless before Max Wall – the cadaverous soul of variety. Later still we sit frowning seriously through Krapp’s Last Tape.
Then Bill Grundy interviews the Pistols. We don’t even see it, but now we have a circus to revel in: spit and sawdust gratis.

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