Feels like you’ve nailed that whole damp, hungover Northern vibe—like Thatcher’s ghost is already chain-smoking in the corner and MES is too wired and bored to care. The essay’s got that jittery, amphetamine-soaked energy; you can almost hear the flickering neon buzz and taste the cheap lager while Smith is plotting something that’ll outlast everyone in the room. Love how it frames him as both doomed and inevitable.
Feels like you’ve nailed that whole damp, hungover Northern vibe—like Thatcher’s ghost is already chain-smoking in the corner and MES is too wired and bored to care. The essay’s got that jittery, amphetamine-soaked energy; you can almost hear the flickering neon buzz and taste the cheap lager while Smith is plotting something that’ll outlast everyone in the room. Love how it frames him as both doomed and inevitable.
Great piece. New subscriber.
…Thanks🍷🔜🛸!