26th December 2011
It is some time in the near future and Dalston has grown into a huge polluted city on the coast, a city of pale concrete tower blocks along an endless beach curving into the distance. The buildings are so tall and thin they give me vertigo. Down on the streets, the children of Middle Eastern oligarchs ride around in convertible Ferraris and Lamborghinis. I am in a dirty, cramped flat and somebody has stolen my cigarettes. The walls are brown, there are dirty plates and cups piled in the sink and a mattress on the floor. I go out of the flat into a floor of a multi-storey car park and there is an announcement over the tannoy to go immediately to the exits. I know this is a trick to rob people so I go in the opposite direction to the flow of people and walk towards the stairs. At the door a girl with fifties rockabilly style hair gives me a flier for a ‘Tart Party’. The dress code is ‘half naked’ so I decide go with my bottom half naked. When I get into the party I am surprised to see that everyone has done the same thing as me and gone with either their top, or bottom half naked, instead of dividing themselves vertically down the middle. I walk around the party looking at the costumes, which are all tight and shiny black and white. There is a noise by the door and the police come and herd us into my father’s study at the Old Vicarage and give us a lecture on taking drugs. While they are talking I choose my mother a present of a candle shaped like an orange lily but when I give it to her she tells me she wanted the tulip bulb instead.