The Future of London: (L-2011, Mr Apocalypse, Ghosts of London)
Page 20
“GET UP!” he said.
Then he ran over to the door and switched on the main light.
Electric light flooded the room like an avalanche. The sound of groans and curses could be heard all over the floor.
“Oh you little prick,” Sumo Dave said, sitting up in his sleeping bag.
Tegz stood in the middle of the room, surveying how many people were now awake.
“You gotta see this,” he said. “C’mon everyone, GET UP!”
Sumo Dave rubbed his eyes wearily. “Why?”
Tegz waved his phone in the air. “So I was on Twitter just now,” he said. “I was just messing about when guess what happened? The trailer for Piccadilly went up.”
“Trailer?” somebody called out.
Tegz grinned. “You know what a trailer is, don’t you?” He was jumping up and down, like a kid on Christmas morning. “A promotional clip. Like they do for films. Well they’re doing it for this, eh? SKAM Box Office are showing Piccadilly live on Pay-Per-View TV. Charging twenty quid too, the dirty bastards.”
“Twenty quid?” Sumo Dave said. “To watch it on telly?”
Tegz nodded. “Yeah. They’ve even given it a name: Judgement Day.”
“Twenty fucking quid?” Sumo Dave said.
Simon, who was sleeping directly underneath the window, sat up in bed.
“That’s the corporate media for you mate,” he said. “They might hate our guts but they’ve no qualms about making a few million quid out of our revolution.”
“Oy!” Tegz said. “Never mind that now. D’ya wanna watch this trailer or not?”
He sat down in the middle of the room, and some of the others, who hadn’t gone back to sleep, slowly gathered around him.
Mack sunk slowly back into the depths of his own warm blanket. He was just about to surrender to sleep when Tegz yelled over.
“Mack!” he called out. “D’ya wanna watch this or not?”
Chapter 37
PICCADILLY: JUDGEMENT DAY
* * *
Official SKAM promotional Clip:
* * *
Broadcast multiple times per day on all SKAM TV: 26th/27th/28th/29th/30th/31st August 2011
* * *
The camera looks down upon a picturesque postcard image of London.
* * *
The sky is bright blue. ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ is playing softly in the background.
* * *
The camera sails through the air. It glides past several ravens floating effortlessly and carefree over the long and winding River Thames, which is a beautiful and manufactured shade of aqua.
* * *
The Houses of Parliament appear in the background. The camera zooms in on the familiar Gothic architecture, the iconic clock tower; this is a place of history.
* * *
The camera glides further on towards the London Eye - a four hundred plus foot tall Ferris wheel located on the South Bank, which also reminds us that London is a modern city too.
* * *
There are other snapshots of London: St Paul’s Cathedral, Buckingham Palace, Nelson’s Column, and finally, Piccadilly Circus. It is instantly recognisable with its gigantic neon advertising signs and the statue of Anteros, which is so often mistaken for his brother, Eros.
* * *
And it’s at this point that the sweet ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ begins to slow down. The music fades and a terrible dissonance emerges, as if the melody is being slowly strangled.
* * *
The screen fades to black. The colours are gone. Everything stops.
* * *
The screen lights up again. Now it’s filled with images of the recent London riots.
* * *
The pictures move in slow motion to the haunting rhythm of silence. These are the most shocking scenes witnessed over the past few weeks: the burning of the furniture store in Tottenham; the bird’s eye views of smoke and fire rising above the city; the most frenzied and savage instances of looting and violence; people crying and people hurt.
* * *
The screen fades to black.
* * *
It lights up again.
* * *
The camera is on ground level, looking straight onto a post-apocalyptic vision of London. The Houses of Parliament are an ancient ruin. The Thames has run dry, leaving only a deep and foreboding valley of mud in which the wreckage of the London Eye has long since fallen.
* * *
The sky is dark grey with jagged streaks of angry clouds.
* * *
A solitary dark shape walks across the ruins of this wasteland. The camera zooms in to reveal a man dressed in a skull hoodie, carrying a spiked baseball bat in one hand. It is Chester George, or rather an actor dressed up as Chester George. At his back, thousands of masked figures appear, also wielding weapons - spiked bats, knives, chains and even guns.
* * *
They move forward, an army on the march.
* * *
Thumping drums, followed by an eerie, whispering choir, are playing in the background.
* * *
Chester George and his followers march on through the dark ruins of London. They walk with primitive, almost ape-like movements. These Neanderthal multitudes strike out at nearby buildings and businesses, smashing windows and starting fires.
* * *
They pass a sign that says ‘PICCADILLY’.
* * *
Innocent bystanders flee the invading army.
* * *
Chester George and his followers arrive at their destination - Piccadilly Circus. This place is untouched by the apocalypse that has ravaged the rest of the city. Here, even the famous neon signs are still fully operational. They are the only lights left in London and despite Armageddon, the advertising screens remind us that it’s important to drink Coke Zero because it has no sugar in it.
* * *
Chester George calls his army to a halt on the outskirts of Piccadilly Circus. Slowly, he raises a hand and points to something on the other side of the famous landmark.
* * *
Someone is there.
* * *
It’s Sadie Hobbs.
* * *
At her back, there are hundreds and thousands of ordinary people, dressed in everyday work clothes – office workers dressed in suits and ties, mechanics dressed in blue coveralls, doctors and nurses in their uniforms, and many more - all stretching back up the length of Shaftesbury Avenue, next to Piccadilly Circus.
* * *
Sadie Hobbs takes a step forward.
* * *
Chester George does likewise.
* * *
The two leaders walk towards one another. Now they’re standing face to face by the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, with the statue of Anteros watching over them like a tennis umpire.
* * *
A deep, rumbling voice speaks over the music:
MOVIE VOICEOVER GUY: It’s TIME. Two LEGENDS. One DESTINY. All roads lead to PICCADILLY.
* * *
The screen fades to black.
* * *
MOVIE VOICEOVER GUY: (Talking at breakneck speed) ‘PICCADILLY: JUDGEMENT DAY.’ You can order this event live on SKAM Box Office for only £19.95. Enjoy all the build up to the big day with special guests and studio analysis, broadcast live to the comfort of your living room from Piccadilly Circus.
* * *
There is NO safer place to enjoy the action.
Chapter 38
#JudgementDay
* * *
Sample of Tweets - posted 31st August 2011
Hannah Day @handaychick · 1h
* * *
Goosebumps! #JudgementDay
* * *
Tarn Di Roma @tarndiroma · 1h
* * *
Does anyone have any idea what’s going to happen tomorrow? #judgementday
* * *
The Prime Minister @therealPM · 1h
* * *
We advise everyo
ne to stay indoors tomorrow. Police and military will be on site to supervise #judgementday and maintain order.
* * *
Michael King @therealkingoflondon · 2h
* * *
Remember, keep it peaceful tomorrow #JudgementDay
* * *
Lara Kordei @KordeiLara · 2h
* * *
It’s too quiet out there. I almost miss the sound of the riots. #JudgementDay
* * *
Sadie Hobbs @AlphaBitchSadie · 2h
* * *
Final reminder. We meet in Hyde Park at 7am. Team talk and then march to Piccadilly to take our city back. #JudgementDay #SKAMboxoffice
* * *
Jay Squire @squire_jay · 2h
* * *
I’m scared. Really truly deeply shit scared.
Piccadilly
Chapter 39
1st September 2011
* * *
All across London, the Good and Honest Citizens were marching to Piccadilly.
It was three o’clock in the morning.
Mack and the others spilled out of the Christ Apostolic Church, and onto the crowded High Road. Still groggy from a lack of sleep, they’d packed some food and water into their rucksacks, but had abandoned their woollen blankets and sleeping bags in the second floor room of the church.
They could always pick them up later.
The crisp autumn air landed on Mack’s face, reviving him slowly. Like everyone else, he’d followed the general advice to get as much sleep as possible before the march. But it wasn’t enough, and a part of him was still tucked underneath the warm blankets back in the church.
Guided by the streetlights, the Good and Honest Citizens moved in no particular order and yet with an instinctive cohesion akin to a flock of birds. Those at the front led the way in silence, with the route to Piccadilly having been worked out long in advance.
They walked along the High Road, surrounded on both sides by a neverending row of burned out buildings and mangled shop fronts.
Occasionally, a child sobbed from somewhere within the depths of the crowd. There was also the odd, muted conversation to be heard. For the most part however, an eerie silence prevailed over the Good and Honest Citizens and they moved purposefully, and without distraction.
As he walked, Mack turned around several times and saw through a chink in the crowd that the army and police were shadowing them. The authorities travelled both on foot and in a slow convoy of vehicles that maintained a respectful distance. The police vans moved at a cautious pace, flashing their coloured lights in silence. Behind them, two armoured vehicles rolled forwards at a steady pace. Surrounding them, a contingent of police officers and soldiers followed on foot.
They travelled south on the A10.
There were still lights still on in some of the buildings they passed, spread out like occasional beacons scattered across the city. Mack looked up and saw dark shapes standing huddled around the windows, peering down onto the streets below.
Some of the people were waving excitedly. Others even popped their head out of the window to shout down words of encouragement.
“GO ON!” they yelled. “STICK IT TO THE FUCKING MAN!”
As the Tottenham crowd passed through the northern district of Stamford Hill, thousands of other Good and Honest Citizens were loitering on the main street, perhaps waiting for their northern counterparts to come down.
The numbers swelled dramatically, and it continued like that for some time. The Good and Honest Citizens continued to travel south, encountering crowds from other parts of London – crowds made up of people of all ages and ethnic backgrounds.
Mack smiled. His individual resolve expanded with each new arrival, as if everyone was connected on some deep, unfathomable level.
The police and soldiers continued to follow at a distance, but they didn’t interfere as the Good and Honest Citizens gradually merged across the city.
As time passed, small groups of people wandered down the edge of the crowd, calling out, asking if anybody needed anything - food and water mostly, but also medicine.
“You need anything love?” a young woman said, catching Mack’s eye. She and several others were carrying bin-bags full of sandwiches, snacks and bottled water. Mack groaned at the sight of them. He’d been living off sandwiches and snacks for over a week now.
“Not for me thanks,” he said.
The woman smiled and moved further down the line.
A little further back in the crowd, Mack heard Sumo Dave refuse the offer of refreshment. Tegz however, whose high-pitched voice floated effortlessly over the crowd, eagerly accepted the offer of food.
“You can’t be serious Tegz,” Sumo Dave said. “It’s four o’clock in the morning. You already ate two bags of crisps before we left the High Road.”
“They’re giving it away,” Tegz said. “What am I supposed to do, say no to free food?”
“You’re going to regret eating all that crap Tegz,” Sumo Dave said. “You’re gonna be locked in the bog with the shits when Chester George is giving his speech. Eh?”
Mack heard Sumo Dave laughing.
“Hey there’s a thought,” Tegz said. “Are there actually gonna be any toilets at this thing? I mean, who’s organising all this, eh? What if I do get a case of the shits Sumo? What am I supposed to do?”
“Use your finger as a plug mate, I dunno.”
“Oh fucking hell,” Tegz said. “We’re going to be on Pay-Per-View TV. And there I’ll be, holding in a bad case of the runs. I should have went back in the church before we left. I’ll have to run up a side street or something, eh?”
Sumo Dave was still chuckling away.
“People aren’t forking out twenty quid to watch you take a shit in the back alleys of Piccadilly, are they?” he said. “You’ve got no choice mate, you’ll have to bake it. And put on your happy face.”
“This is serious Sumo!”
Further down the line, Mack was laughing, as were others around him.
Daylight crept slowly through the clouds. Above the tall buildings of London, hues of red sunlight appeared, wavering and distant.
The Good and Honest Citizens were closing in on their target. The large procession was now marching onto Theobald Road, in the Bloomsbury district in the West End of London.
For Mack and no doubt others in the crowd, it was like stepping into another world. In particular, it was a surprise to see so many pubs, restaurants and shops that hadn’t been reduced to ruins. To see so many windows intact. To see supermarkets where you could go in and simply buy food if you wanted to. To see signs on the street pointing to grand-sounding attractions, such as The British Museum and Shaftesbury Theatre.
It was a strange new place and yet still part of their city. It was London.
Those at the head of the procession cut off Theobald Road, leading the crowd down onto New Oxford Street, then onto Shaftesbury Avenue.
They were on the brink of Piccadilly Circus now. And just at that moment, a swarm of helicopters appeared overhead. The thick pulsing sound of the rotor blades cut through the early morning calm and it was the first sign that the silent walk of the past few hours was truly over.
Hovering overhead, the helicopters pointed their white flashlights onto the lengthy procession making its way further down Shaftesbury Avenue.
Large groups of people continued to wave frantically from windows and roofs. Women screamed. Men screamed. The occasional item of lingerie was even tossed down onto the Good and Honest Citizens as they passed by.
Early morning chants of ‘Chester George’ contested against the chopping, slapping sound of the rotor blades overhead.
Mack saw the riot police up ahead, lining both sides of Shaftesbury Avenue in anticipation of their arrival. He couldn’t see the police or army behind them anymore. But he felt sure they were still around somewhere.
The Good and Honest Citizens marched forwards, just as glorious pink and white bursts of light emanated
from the rising sun.
Despite a lack of sleep, and despite walking throughout the night, Mack had never felt so excited at the start of a new day.
Chapter 40
1st September 2011
* * *
Piccadilly: Judgement Day
* * *
The SKAM Pay-Per-View broadcast begins with an aerial shot of Piccadilly Circus. Despite its name, Piccadilly Circus is not a circus. It’s a famous road junction that links five busy roads in the West End of London. Its fame is derived from its sheer busyness and its status as a tourist attraction, not to mention the massive illuminated billboards, which have existed there since the early 1900s. It’s also famous for Alfred Gilbert’s statue of Anteros, which even today is still mistaken for his brother, Eros.