Arding and Hobbs

Do we make a drama of a life.
The elfin creature,
or the other one.
The one you were  before.
Before a stranglehold took hold.
All moustache and hair,
captured in a lonely passport booth.
Before your freer soul slipped away;
unawares and undetected.
Was it just about the hair Anthony.
Just about the life you chose.
That led you to that stranded patch
of  railway grass.
Did he say your scarf was nice,
before taking away your life.
A stones throw away from Arding and Hobbs.
Arding and Hobbs, Arding and Hobbs.



Arding and Hobbs was a department store in Clapham. Its now a Debenhams. The store ran a memorable ad during the eighties, where its name was sung in a rhythm that sounded like an old steam train. Playing on the proximity to Clapham Junction, and pinching a little from the GPO film units Night Mail documentary.

A serial killer was on the loose in South London, at the very same time. And I happened to have known one of his victims. I’ve transposed the location of the railway sidings. But everything else is true.

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