The anarchists’ bookshop (London)

A friend Guy was in an anarchists’ bookshop one day when the phone went.  There were two members of staff, each sitting at his desk, and one other customer, browsing.  The phone rang and rang and rang.  Neither of the staff members did anything about it.  Guy raised his eyebrows in query at the other customer, who said, “It’s an anarchists’ bookshop.  Nobody wants to tell other people what to do.”


(London mid-80s)