Chips with everything

WHO RECALLS THE GREAT Spaghetti-and-chips Revolution? The jours de mai of ’68 were over. The student movement had talked itself into stupor. While I dodged the barricades at Salamanca, my friend Perkers, back at Magdalen, was keeping the Left alive, like all the other public-school lefties: drifting between demos, self-mutilating his designer jeans, accumulating party-cards like boy-scout badges and brandishing a feeble beard against bourgeois civilisation.

By the time that I got back to Blighty, with .