Simon Critchley is the son of a metal worker and a neighborhood hairdresser. He failed early at school and went to work in the factories of Hertfordshire, north of London: at the age of 14 a machine sliced off the tip of one of his fingers and at 18 another machine practically amputated his hand, which they managed to save him. Still, at 66, he shows his scars with ironic regret. “The factory was shit,” he says.
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