As culture vultures, there is little my generation have devoured stateside that has stood the test of time. Yes, we have dallied with pretending we liked basketball before realising that the last 30 seconds is where all the excitement occurs, or American football after enjoying a John Madden marathon on the Sega megadrive, but besides that, there is scant little.
Some of the shows are incredibly good however but are few and far between such as Breaking Bad, Ray Donovan, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Better Call Saul, but most are overacted dross designed to tread downtime water before you meet your maker. It was a curious event as I found myself way out of my comfort zone, especially when I walked into a wedding shop with two 16-year-olds in tow as the lady behind the counter readied her hand to call social services. After being shown the prom dresses, despite numerous requests, they would not give me a price, claiming we would have to wait until the ‘he won’t be long’ owner came back as, out of the blue, we suddenly felt we were being held against our will.
We did have weekly teenage discos however at the ‘Oasis’ in Rye, resplendent with mock palm trees which adorned the walls, doors and windows of a ‘club’ that was as large as a small community hall on the mean streets of Rye.