Brixton: 121 Centre
The 121 Squat - What I know About - by a '121 er'.
(anonymous)

I know we was robbed on the door at the famous 121 Club - and it was a shotgun. I know the Guinness-fried mushrooms at one of the Friday cafes were disastrous - well actually I heard. Everyone did.

I know that French performer Costes got naked and shouted on and on all night. I know that Bar Sate (industrial music night) played us static and sirens in '94. I know about the argument about painting the stairs yellow - oh I do remember.

I know how much arse we kicked to support the miners in '84/5, and the printers in '86, and the prisoners and...

I know that thousands of international travellers have stopped by, gone 'gee whiz' and hung out, stayed, got involved. I know that rats jumped out at us and I know that people got together, ganged up and fucked up the poll tax.

We were there, but we didn't turn over that police car on Acre Lane… honest. (It was Stockwell Road, and, OK, we did!)

I know about a few of the actions and stunts (or what the professors call class conflict) that people did at midnight, but that's another story! We call it surviving, hitting back at some of the bastards. Ho, ho! I know about Effra Parade.

Oh, I know about the famous Brixton riots - I missed the early ones and tail-ended the last. I definitely know the fascists burnt our door in '92. And the cops raided us at gunpoint in '84.

I know about one hundred, one thousand, one million publications were printed. I know about the arguments we had about theory and tactics and this and that and punk rock! I know about the sadness for lost friends (RIP) and those that couldn't make it, and the joy of us lasting it out together here on Railton Road - Trying to be free, living free and happy.

A big old experiment against the fucking bigger odds. 18 years in occupation.

Rock on 121!



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