1985: it was a snowy day in west England. You weren’t doing much, just lazing around on your sofa. You live in a small flat on the bottom floor. You were flicking through the channels on the tv when you hear a knock on your window. You get up and lift the window up. A man with orange dyed hair in the style of a Mohawk down the middle and the rest of his hair was spiked on either side of his head and four metal stars across his forehead was leaning into your house when you open the window. He had a septum nose piercing too. He’d already called to your house five times in the past week asking for cups of sugar, never returning them. He gives you a smile. “lovely weather, innit?” he says, trying to sound polite before asking for the cup of sugar. He had a very strong English accent and had a few voice cracks.