The cry of ‘I want my money’ invariably means that something is about to blow.

Max doesn’t work. Now he’s been offered a job - at the dole office.

The hot summer of ’76. Mega-flares. The dole office. Cider. And a riot.

The 1970s. If you were there, you’ve probably tried to forget it. If you weren’t, find out what you’ve missed.

I put on a white poly-cotton shirt and my high-waisted mega-flares. I’d also found a tin of blue polish for my platform shoes. The platform was only a centimetre - probably about right for the civil service. I brushed my hair, and with the edge of a comb carefully drew out a centre parting. Then, to create the desired effect, I messed it up again. The finishing touch was provided by a blue kipper tie adorned with a striking green snowflake motif. I looped the tie into a knot the size of a samosa and stood in front of the mirror to admire myself.

Max is preparing for his next move. He doesn’t know what his next move is going to be. But he’ll be ready for it when it comes.