Dragging poetry from the ruins of late capitalism while simultaneously exploring real experience in artificial spaces is certainly a worthy ambition. Nowhere zine fulfills its self-professed ambition with all the vim and vigour of a hungover poet faced with an empty page and a commission to make banking sexy for a one-off payment of £500. Wait, does that even make sense? Anyway, what we’re trying to say is we love Nowhere’s louche motorway services aesthetic. There’s even an expired voucher for 20% off at W H Smith from 2012 herein. And any zine that advises DON’T THINK JUST GRAB THE CRISPS has everybody’s best interests at heart.