1989. Manchester. A frenzy of drugs, beats and bucket hats. Illegal raves. Acid parties. Just jumping up and down in a field and throwing two fingers to Thatcher… Remember it? Because we don’t. We weren’t even born. But Ian was. And Ian does remember. We’ve got f*ck all now (Ian tells us). So, we’re going back to 1989. We’re gonna neck a brown biscuit. We’re gonna get off our peanuts. We’re gonna bounce around like idiots. And Ian’s going to show us how. We’re mad fer it. And you will be too. Let’s party.
★★★★★ “Be Ian, be you but really, just be in this audience.” A Younger...
