Ironing is not an activity favoured by most nonconformist punk rock enthusiasts, especially in the era of social unrest in which Annie exists – the ‘80s splayed before her like a slob on a slab. First of all, she would have to acquire an ironing board, which she did by visiting the B&Q across the street from her flat, which we assume is in London.
As she attempted to unfold her new Bosch Swivelsteam XV4 model, failing to unhook the rail from its safeguard, an idea came to her. When the railing bucked up and stabbed her in the chest, the idea was confirmed. She would wear the ironing board to the concert. Sod the shirt! What could be more nonconformist than wearing the dull appendages of domestic life to punk concerts and exposing them as bourgeois shams?
Fastening a series of tight knots around her chest and the base of the board, she would carry the board around on her back like a bag. (Fig. 1). Whenever she released the catch, she would be propelled into the air and the board, if leaning against another punk enthusiast, would be tilted at such an angle that she could see above the mohican hairdos and view The Clash in all their splendour. (Fig. 2).
Of course, like all visionary ideas, it was soon copied by her peers, and mayhem ensued. (Fig. 3). Oh well. Back to the, um, ironing board.
P.S. Midway through drawing these figs, Annie changed her name to Alice. "Much more euphonious" was the reason. Mad wench!