The First Post arts critic putters up to Craven Arms (“one of Shropshire’s ugliest spots”) to visit the National Museum of British Popular Culture

“What a labyrinth of expressionist tableaux, anarchic heaps, and weird perspectives, and oh the litany of resonant names: Pepsodent, Izal, Rinso, … The place is huge and the layout overwhelming, with brilliant solutions to the problem of ‘amount’. The last time I was this bewitched by serendipity was Starck’s Musee Baccarat in Paris – so I’m saying something. … Go along for an unforgettable, externalised acid trip.”