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...and so here we are, footprints on the ceiling and screaming the words in each others faces, sharing in it like a party we might have hoped it could have been had we closed our eyes and dreamed hard enough on the bus on the way into town. An Arctic Monkey or four screaming at I the Rev Rarsclart, eyes bulging, faces red with the joy of it all. London, Glasgow, Wakefield wherever...
And the people who have shared it. Those who felt some connection with getting on their Dancing Shoes, a Mardy Bum or Scummy Man or something. There's these moments on which it all turns. I have two or three, London, a French Kiss in the Chaos. Maybe even a full house and not Al, as lead singer. You might have others where ..
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