‘Wow. OK. Well, that’s your view. Maybe you just don get what I was doing. You maybe just don understand the music.’

‘Maybe I don’t. But I think you’re selling yourself short. Fucksake, Hamza. We walk down the street and people shout that you’re a terrorist, tell you to go back to the Taliban. You see the fear in white people’s eyes when you get on the fucking Tube these days. That’s the stuff you should be getting up there and spreading. People should have to hear it. There were loads of other guys in there doing harder-hitting material – that little girl with the braids, too. You should make them listen to your voice.’

‘Na. Na na, lady. Don’t try to tell me you know what it’s like being Asian. You don’t know. See, that all makes sense to you, nice white person, sure. You know who want to hear a Pakistani boy being angry right now? Nobody, mate. Nobody want to hear it. Didya maybe notice that I was the only brown kid up there? It’s black music. You got to fit in, and do what everyone know. That’s how you get the fucking record deal, innit. You wanna know how to get people shouting “Taliban” at you? You be a Muslim kid with a big mouth. Aight? So na, you don’t get it. At all.’

‘This is exactly the stuff you should be doing. Exactly. Use it. Anger is an energy. I think the Sex Pistols said that.’

‘Sure. Yeah yeah. Skinheads, is it? More white people who ain’t going to have a bomb scare called on them if they just get on public transport. Them’s exactly who I should be listening to. Really helpful, that is. Listen, you mean well, just like all them teachers I had meant well, but you ain’t got a fucking clue, Clio. You’s maybe just too old or something. An you should just butt out where you don’t know what you talking about. You not even mentioned that I put your song in there for you, either. People gotta fucking rise up. Ripped it off LimeWire an everything as a surprise for you. Na, this is bullshit, man. Bullshit.’

‘You feel that way, you’d probably better run off back to your mum’s tonight, then. That song isn’t about a bunch of kids in a club coming up, by the way. It’s about real anger. Real anger bringing people together to make something change, not just moaning about the door policy at their local club. Go on. Scram. Off you go. I’ll get myself home.’

He kicked the side of the bus shelter as he left, felt it shudder beneath him.

‘Wow. Such maturity,’ she called after him.

‘Fuck you too,’ he screamed at the sky.