The caption on this photo at the BBC site reads:

Miss Piggy dons a designer dress for a window display by London store Selfridges to celebrate 30 years of punk.

I don't know what either Miss Piggy or Selfridges has to do with punk. But punk turning thirty has got me a bit, music of my mid-teens. If the new rural overlords have anything in their dossiers on my parents it would likely be something to the effect of "permitted exposure of 14 year old to punk". I don't know if I will allow music like the Stranglers or the Sex Pistols when that days comes in this household but there was, of course, little choice given the UK cousins sending tapes and letting you know where to get the punk pins for one's anorak. Punk shaped my musical taste, placed unlikely stars in the arc of my sky and informed my patience in matters political and moral.

So now there are blogs like the interesting Punk Turns 30 which has a year's worth of mid-70s photography celebrating the freedom to say "That F%*#ing Sucks!!" when in the presence of that which sucks. Worth celebrating.