I happened to be in London on the opening day of Parliament in 1985. The streets Hooded with all kinds of security, especially in Trafalgar Square, abutted as it is by South Africa House with its ever swelling, persistent group of anti-apartheid pickets. Two winos were leaping about harmlessly in the middle of the empty
road when, out of nowhere, two cops in crash helmets and waxed riot coats leaped at them, lashing with batons and boots before dragging them, struggling limply, to the church steps. It was like a movie of an accident about to happen, the perfect Pulitzer action frame, freezing into focus.