Mandelson’s Pleasure Dome
Iain Sinclair, 2 October 1997
“... portraits, the pristine virtual reality handouts. But you’ll smell it. An unmannerly belch of black fumes. A brewery pall that hits you as soon as you emerge from the tunnel: oasty, hot in the throat, disquieting. Like griddled bird shit. The world through a sepia filter. Gravy browning dust-storms. Iron filings in a furious wind that scrapes the ... ”