Ah yes, nostalgia for the sixties...
I grew up then. There was no crime, those happy-go-lucky Kray brothers saw to that.
Children could play safely in the streets, watched over by that nice Ian Brady and his lovely girlfriend, Myra Hindley and protected from the harmful rays of the sun by the shade cast by the Aberfan slag heap.
A man could enjoy a few beers, say twenty, and feel confident that he could drive home from the pub without fear of being persecuted by the Police because they were busy dealing with
real crime, like homosexual men enjoying each other's company in private or a printer publishing a disgusting book about some posh bint having it away with her lower class gardner.
And as a child I slept safe in my bed knowing that if I was cheeky to a copper I'd get a sound thrashing from said bobby before being dragged home by my ear'ole to face another sound thrashing from fatha for bringing the law to his door.
Ahh, those were the days.
But you tell the young folks that today and they won't believe you. No they won't.
Car's looking good btw
