Directly across the street from the entrance to the Newgate Calendar was the shiny new Photographers’ Gallery. It was a place that couldn’t have been more different to the Calendar in every respect. It had been recently refurbed and restocked with photographs from the dawn of the prism to the current day. The works of Don McCullin and an upstart from the ‘70s called David Bailey could be seen there alongside the works of Rankin and Mario Testino. Battles, breakdowns and boobs galore adorned the walls, and it had a chic restaurant and a fair-trade coffee shop that more than paid their way. This was where Judas had decided to stop so that he could get his thoughts together in something like peace and quiet. He liked the Gallery. The images on the walls were still and motionless, but if you g
