Radio Commander is a lit thunderflash tossed through a barracks doorway at two in the morning. It’s arriving at the firing range and finding all the rifles in bits at the bottom of treacle barrels. It’s John Wayne dressed as a coelacanth conducting the Berlin Philharmonic. It’s Dad’s Army dubbed into Swahili. It’s Polio The Musical… wasabi toothpaste… a Slush Puppie enema… Ho Chi Minh kicking seven shades of sherbet out of a blind busker outside Tottenham Court Road tube station on a wet Thursday morning in October. (more…)
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