"Nowadays I try not to judge people on appearances, even when that appearance is of a skinhead with 16-hole DMs and tattoos all over his bald head. I remember the Redskins, and followed "Oi", and after all in the 1980s a lot of gay men dressed like this. Even when a number of similarly-tattooed, shaven-headed men take over the Cheshunt Travelodge cafeteria saluting one another noisily, drinking Guinness at nine-thirty in the morning, I try not to judge: for what do I know? Maybe they're on their way to a philately convention, or maybe they're going bowling. The men are raucous but reasonably polite, even when a black man enters and has to sit down in their midst with his breakfast; they barely regard our table, but then we are just a white family from England. Judging by the accents - Glasgow and Yorkshire and Brum - they have assembled here for some common purpose - but what?.."
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