Growing up in the decade that style forgot

July 4, 2013 by  
Filed under Wind Energy Tips

We didn’t have Antisocial Behaviour Orders back then.

Antisocial behaviour was the order of the day.

It was legal to wolf-whistle “birds” and they could actually hear you because they weren’t always ear-plugged into mp3 players.

Workplace calendars for brake liners and Swarfega invariably featured bikini models and there were even nude models straddling spanners.

On the other hand, singers in the Seventies weren’t strippers like Britney and Rihanna, and people used to complain about swearing on the telly before 9pm. (There was a notion that children had a bedtime.)

Today raunch and titillation is no different from the Seventies.

It is just aimed at children instead.

Dating coaches had not been invented so young males got their tips from Detective Inspector Jack Regan of The Sweeney, who made DI Gene Hunt look like a feminist university lecturer.

Regan’s technique was simply to invite the bird back to his flat after drinking pints all night, slap an hour’s worth of sleazy jazz records on the stereogram – you were no lothario then without an autochanger – and start undoing buttons.

The most ­romantic figure of the decade was the housebreaker who got through a window to plonk Black Magic chocolates on the bedside table of his love.

They could probably still get his DNA off the boxes.

Summers. Remember those?

Houses you could afford while you were still young.

No wonder Seventies memories conjure Chopper bikes and space-hoppers lying askew in the garden while a hosepipe sprays cooling water over a young family.

You could smoke anywhere and cinemas and buses were filthy with ash. But then the hospitals were clean.

Teachers used to prod you with a pencil if you got sums wrong. But then you left school literate.

People ate 300 calories per day more than they do now, including terrible things such as prawn cocktails and Arctic rolls. But they weren’t all fat like we are.

People were angry if they were put on the dole instead of taken off it. Another world.

So, if you could go back to the Seventies by donning Dale Irby’s tank top, would you go? I think I would.

But then I would know to dodge clicker-clackers and never, never let anyone take my picture in flares.

Comments are closed.