Nick Helm’s BHS Hell

Wood Green High Street is a true example of a 22^nd century high street. Not only does it have a McDonalds, an HMV, a Cancer Research, and a Mr. Bagel, but there’s also a multi-screen multiplex and another McDonalds. The only thing that remains firmly stuck in the bad old days is the BHS shop front. It sits sadly on the High Street, with its authentic early-1990s logo faded by the sun. It’s bewildering to me that in today’s competitive markets, where you can buy pants from anywhere, a business can let itself slip into an apathetic state of branding like this.

I went in to talk to the manager to ask him what he thought. “Why haven’t you updated the shop front?” I asked.

“Oh that? That’s been like that for years”, he snorted.

I explained that every other BHS in the country had updated their logo. It’s a brand. It’s an emblem. To be worn with pride. People shouldn’t have to read the ‘B’, the ‘H’, and the ‘S’ on the bag and then re-read the ‘B’, the ‘H’, and the ‘S’ on the sign to work out where people had been shopping. They should be able to match it up subliminally through shapes and colours.

He laughed cruelly, spraying my face with saliva and crumbs.

My eyes filled with tears of rage. “British Home Stores used to mean something!” I cried. “There’ll be an M&S opened on every street corner and tram station with their neatly-matching fonts and logos. You’ll never compete!”

But there was no getting through to him. He just didn’t care…

Nick Helm

We’d have to put out a thousand page, hard-bound almanac to cover them all, so The Fix has decided to just cover one classic Stallone movie moment every month.

#1 – The Specialist (1994): Busted!

Stallone plays ex-CIA explosives specialist Ray Quick, a bomb maker for hire who travels everywhere by bus. Whilst helping Sharon Stone get revenge against evil henchman Ned, Quick boards the No. 5.

A gang of ponytailed hoodlums sit at the back listening to loud Rumba music on their boom box. An elderly, pregnant Latino lady makes her way down the aisle, but there are no seats.

“Here, take mine” offers Quick, but before she can sit down the seat gets stolen by a thug.

Shocked, Quick explains through gritted teeth, “That seat’s taken”.

“Fuck you”, the thug responds.

“Excuse me?”

“Fuck you”, he repeats.

Handing his sunglasses to the old pregnant lady, Quick somersaults the ruffian onto the floor, kicking him in the groin and thorax. A second brute attacks. Quick elbows him twice in the throat, slamming his knee in his face. A third rascal attacks with a knife. Quick breaks his hand, slaps him five times, finishing with an uppercut.

“I’ll kill you, you…you…sonofa…”, the first yobbo shouts.

But Quick swings on the handrail, smashing him through the bus window and on to the hot, unforgiving tarmac of the street. The pregnant gran steps forward and hands Quick his sunglasses. “I believe there’s a vacancy”, Quick quips wryly, gesturing to the empty seat.

Justice is done.