A day or so into the occupation, feeling inadequately revolutionary, I volunteer to go out in the loudspeaker van to inform the good people of Southampton of our action. The next day I am in the passenger seat of the van, with a script: I grab the microphone and hear my voice booming out apologetically. “…action…vital…resist…um…education”
The good people stare at me with blank hostility and I sink down into my seat. After a couple more mumblings the driver has had enough. “Oh for god’s sake, give it here then,” he says, and berates the good people with brutal efficiency.