You must get a photo of you posing nude at an airport with an airplane in the photo with you. Find a headstone or a placard with a name on it. Pretend it is one of your ancestors.
Happy Hardcore was international after all. Happy Hardcore Was a Way of Life. We popped into the local music Mega Store for the latest Bonkers compilation, always on tape, for your Walkman, of course, and to be handily available for when you get in your mates Metro or Nova with the carpeted sub box in the boot amplifying the heavy kick drums. Happy Hardcore was our religion after all and our bedroom walls were our personal shrines to the Lords of Hardcore and we anticipated their next 60-minute vinyl spinning sermon with a religious zeal that any devout worshipper of an actual religion would no doubt understand.