The London-Manchester train is packed with people from the suburbs in knee-high tracksuits. It is quiet in the car, someone is napping, someone is reading, someone is quietly discussing the impending weekend. At one of the stations, a young man flies into the car with screams and screams. "I'm Tommas-fakkin-Martin," he introduces himself. "And I'm off to see the fucking Sex Pistols!" Wow, me too, - but I prudently keep quiet.