So there I was at Sheffield ‘port. And the momma of all booms has just told me that they’ve just fired my flight into orbit, so I’ve got an hour at least, probably more before I can get my ass out of this dump and back to Malaysia, where I’ve left the chopper.

So it was inside I go, pushing past the crowd of consumer recruiters that any company has crawling over any of its outlets,

“Excuse me sir, have you considered the advantages of claiming benefits from Aero Regis?”

“Yep, sure have buddy. Bye” The chump doesn’t even hesitate - gets a hundred wise guys an hour probably, straight onto the person behind me. As I go stand in the queue at check out, the music they’ve been piping out over the PA system cuts out, and I’m trying not to cringe like, getting ready for one of those ear splitting announcements y’know the ones that tell you not to do something your not doing and then end with a “Solidarity in the face of the enemy, Consumers!”

Just at that point a second boom goes off, and I begin to hope that maybe there doing a big convict drop, and maybe my flight hasn’t gone, just been delayed.

Anyway, as my hearing comes back I realise the music’s started up again - only it ain’t the stuff they normally play in public, y’know that slow piped stuff that “reduces stress” or one of those military marching songs. It’s got a drumbeat and then a guitar chirps in - christ I haven’t heard a real instrument since that sax my old man used to play.

Pretty much at the same time it dawns on everyone in the place that this is some subversive shit, and we all start staring real hard at the floor, and generally pretending that we can’t hear it. Y’know, like kids “I can’t see you can’t see me” only in this case its “I can’t see the PA speakers so I can’t hear them.”

Well hell, it makes about as much sense. Over to my left a pair of bruisers in suits are pushing their way through the cloud, staring determinedly ahead at a door marked “No public access” and each clutching an overly chunky com system in their meaty paws like its some kind of badge of authority.

“Some hippies gonna get it!” grins the guy in front of me, a little fellow in Macro Happy consumer overalls and big glasses, nodding at the security men, now nearly at the door. I smile and nod whilst the music speeds up a little, then, causing a murmur of surprise all over the check in area, a high pitched, screeching, weirdly asexual voice starts accompanying the instruments,

“Had a dream, where things were blue…”

“Whats a hippy?” with a start I realise the guy in front of me has got a little girl with him, he looks down at her and shushes her, before returning his ghoulish stare to the two bruisers, who are now struggling with the door.

“Perhaps it comes from thinking of you…”

With a crash the door comes off its hinges and the two guys are inside it in a flash, trying to close it behind them - the little girl starts up again, this time with a kind of whining pleading note to her voice,

“I want to be a hippy when I grow up!” The glass wearing guy looks down, almost comically alarmed, “No you don’t darling,” He reaches down and scoops her up - holding her face level with his,

“I should have told you what was right…”

Now the little guy starts waving his head inanely and singing the Macro Happy advertising jingle “Macccroooooo Happy, Happy, Happieeee, Happy, Happy” The jaunty tone seems completely at edge with the wailing mournful notes coming from the PA system.

“You should have known we were going to fight…”

On that tone the music cuts out suddenly, and the guy in front of me is suddenly making the only noise in the entire place, finishing his little jingle on a real high note “Happppppiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee…”

He cuts out as quickly as the PA did, glances round smiling nervously and puts the little girl down hurriedly.