Wall Street traders. Space Invaders. Arcade dreams. Custard creams. Kylie and Jason. Thatcher and Reagan. HP sauce. Inspector Morse.
Band Aid. Live Aid. Cherry-ade. Kwik Save. HIV, MTV, TUC, SDP. Del Boy and Rodney. Deirdre on Corrie. Just Say No. Farmer Barleymow.
Striking miners. Flash designers. Berlin wall. Maradona’s handball. Virgin Atlantic. Sticky-backed plastic. Baywatch beach. Papa Don’t Preach.
Big hair. Polo necks. BHS. VHS. ET. BT. Mr T. Ford Capri. Donkey Kong and Pac Man. Now it’s Captain Caveman! Scooby Dooby Doo, Where are you?
Ahh, the ‘80s.. That deeply-troubled decade of social inequality and oversized shoulder pads. And what of it? Why is my mind suddenly cast there?
Because right now I’m looking at a menu at Chez Bruce – a well-regarded restaurant on the verge of Wandsworth Common – and standing out from the text like a flashing blue siren from an ’80’s police procedural, is a word that takes me right back to that very decade: “Viennetta”…
Ahoy me hearties, shiver me timbers and splice the mainbrace! Now’s time for a hearty sea shanty, all in honour of a new London fish joint: Parsons. And if you’re in need of some instrumental accompaniment…
In a deeply secret red-and-silver kitchen,
Somewhere in London or possibly in Hitchin
( – in spite of sweeping skyscraper shots,
I’m guessing it’s filmed somewhere in Herts.)
The contestants listen with a sense of forebode
To cheeky-chappy Gregg and his mate John Torode.
“It’s The Market Challenge!” they boldly disclose,
That’s a pimped-up version of (the Hitchin) Waitrose.
The clock starts ticking, contestants are aflutter.
It’s Supermarket Sweep with organically-made butter
That’s been churned from a cow, who’s been pampered to the hilt
With a daily massage on Egyptian-cotton quilt. View Post