Don't know what it is about this song but when I listen to it I automatically think of these lines:-
It was bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him.
I know that this is not the kind of vision of England that Doherty was trying to portray but it is that sort of sepia tinged world that comes to my mind. I'm not slagging off the song I love it and especially this demo version from one of the many bootlegs that were kicking about during the heyday of the Libertines.
It is very easy to forget what a talented lyricist and musician Doherty is.
Pete Doherty -
Albion
