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In the early hours of May 7, 1992, Richey Edwards slipped a postcard under the door of my hotel room at the Sofitel, Beverly Hills. I looked at it and smiled. We had been shopping together on Melrose two days before when he had bought the Barbie card. It pictured the famous doll in her boudoir, with a speech bubble that read, “Every morning I wake up and thank God for my unique ability to accessorize.”

On the other side, he had written a message in his singular, scattershot style. “Hollywood and Disneyland are the legacy of Europe’s cultural imperialism. We gave them nursery rhymes and they gave us back film. Televised riots are as American as Barbie / Big Macs. Tomorrow the riots will be forgot but Mickey Mouse will still be there. Welcome to Disneyland. Love Manic Street Preachers.”


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