Ashes Victory Celebrations

Yesssss!!!!!!!!!!!

In the pubs and streets of South London, fuelled by joy, exhileration and a couple of rather pleasing bottles of crispy white wine. The celebrations went on, long into the night. E-mailing long lost Aussie buddies, texting 'til the network collapses.

Ricky Ponting, Dame Edna Everage, Kylie Minogue, Kevin Rudd, Nicole Kidman, Rolf Harris, Nick Cave, John Eales, Jono Coleman, Ned Kelly your boys took one helluva beating!!

And that was just in 2005! Sweet, wonderful and thoroughly deserved victory!

Carnaby Street

Not what it used to be

The Small Faces no longer run up exorbitant debts in Lord John's. The Jam no longer play opposite the Marlborough and you can no longer shop in the Carnaby Cavern for the finest red & black polka dot shirts this side of Regent Street.

The only thing left to marvel at are the massive snowmen that should have melted months ago.

Poll Results - Favourite Live venue

1. Medium sized venue
2. Festival
3. Sweaty Club

So, there you have it!

CND Marches

Ambling through the streets of London urging 'Maggie, Maggie, maggie, Out! Out! Out! It was the sound of a gentle protest to a lilting reggae beat, the chance to marvel at the crusties and the hepcats getting together to protest at the prospect of being blown to kingdom come! Brockwell Park/Trafalgar Square. More booze, no Cruise!

The Goose Steps Out

Set during World War II, The Goose Steps Out recounts the adventures of William Potts (Will Hay) after it is discovered that he is an exact double of a German spy who the British have just captured. Potts is flown into Nazi Germany to impersonate the spy and instructed to seek out and bring back details of a new German secret weapon.

On arrival, however, Potts is placed in charge of a group of apparently rabidly-fascist young students who are being trained to work as spies in England. Potts attempts to undermine this by convincing the youngsters that the proper British way of saluting a great leader is to apply the V-sign, which they therefore do repeatedly and enthusiastically in the direction of a portrait of the Führer. At a function where he hopes to gather information about the weapon (a gasfire bomb), Potts succeeds only in getting blind drunk and admitting that he is a British agent. Luckily, his class of Nazi youths turn out to be sympathetic Austrians and they help him obtain the secret he seeks. Potts and his new friends eventually commandeer a plane and fly back to England, crashing in a tree outside the War Office in London.

Passport to Pimlico

Blimey, I'm a foreigner.

A bomb left over from the Second World War blows up in Miramont Gardens in the Pimlico district of London after some local children roll a tractor tyre down a hole. The explosion reveals a buried cellar from the manor house that gave Miramont Gardens its name, in which artwork, coins, jewellery and an ancient parchment document are found. Professor Hatton-Jones (Margaret Rutherford) authenticates it as a royal charter of Edward IV that ceded the house its estates to Charles VII ("the Rash"), the last Duke of Burgundy, when he sought refuge there several centuries ago after being presumed dead at the Battle of Nancy. As the charter had never been revoked, Pimlico is legally part of Burgundy. Local policeman P.C. Spiller (Philip Stainton) observes, "Blimey! I'm a foreigner!"

The British government has no legal jurisdiction and requires the Burgundians to form a committee according to the laws of the long-defunct dukedom before negotiating with them. Ancient Burgundian law requires that the Duke himself appoint a council. Without one, all seems lost - until a young man from Dijon (Paul Dupuis) steps forward and proves that he is the heir to the dukedom. He duly forms a governing body; one of its members is the shrewd shopkeeper Arthur Pemberton (Stanley Holloway).

Very quickly, Burgundy (followed soon after by the rest of London) realises that it is not subject to post-war rationing and other bureaucratic restrictions, and the district is quickly flooded with entrepreneurs, crooks and eager shoppers. A noisy free-for-all ensues, which Spiller, the Chief (and only) Constable of Burgundy, finds himself unable to handle. Then the British authorities close the "border" with barbed wire. Having left England without their passports, the bargain hunters have trouble returning home - as one policeman replies to an indignant woman, "Don't blame me Madam, if you choose to go abroad to do your shopping."

The Burgundians decide that two can play this game and stop an underground train dead in its tracks. "The train is now at the Burgundy frontier." explains an agent of the newly formed customs and excise department. They proceed to ask the passengers if they have anything to declare.

The infuriated British government retaliates by breaking off negotiations. Burgundy is isolated, like post-war Berlin, and the residents are invited to "immigrate" to England. But the Burgundians are "a fighting people" and, though the children are evacuated, the adults stand fast. As Mrs. Pemberton (Betty Warren) puts it, "We've always been English and we'll always be English; and it's precisely because we are English that we're sticking up for our right to be Burgundians!"

Pimlico is cut off from electricity, food and water (though there's plenty of gin and crisps). The water problem is solved by a covert raid late one night, refilling the reservoir with hoses attached to the nearest fire hydrant on the British side of the border. Unfortunately, the food supply is spoiled when the cellar where it is being stored becomes flooded, and it appears that the Burgundians are beaten. Just in time, three Burgundian youngsters learn about this crisis and toss food across the border, setting an example for sympathetic Londoners; they begin throwing food parcels across the barrier in an improvised "airlift", echoing the one that ended the Berlin Blockade. Soon, others get into the act. A helicopter drops a hose to deliver milk. Even swine are parachuted in (possibly a reference to the expression "when pigs fly").

Meanwhile, the government comes under public pressure to resolve the problem. It becomes clear to the bumbling British diplomats assigned to find a solution, Gregg (Basil Radford) and Straker (Naunton Wayne) (Better known as cricket loving Charters & Caldicott), that defeating the Burgundians would be no easy task, so they decide to negotiate. The sticking point turns out to be the disposition of the unearthed treasure. At last, the local banker (Raymond Huntley) hits upon a novel solution: "A Burgundian loan to Britain!"

With negotiations successfully concluded, an outdoor banquet is prepared to welcome Burgundy back into the fold. Just as Big Ben strikes the hour of reunification, the Burgundians realise they truly are back in England, when the clouds part after a loud clap of thunder, and the heat wave is brought to a swift end by a torrential downpour, sending everyone scurrying for cover.

Quotes
Connie Pemberton:

We always were English and we'll always be English, and it's precisely because we are English that we're sticking up for our right to be Burgundians!

50 gigs...

The rules. List the first 50 acts that come into your head. An act you saw at a festival and opening acts count, but only if you can't think of 50 other artists. Oh, and you must include the first gig you ever saw...

1. The Jam – Winter gardens Eastbourne 1977. About 50 people there. Have subsequently met about 1000 who said they were.
2. Bob Marley & the Wailers – Brighton Conference Centre. Overwhelming smell of… something herbal.
3. Nick Cave & Bad Seeds – Brixton Academy 2004. The preacher man was in town and the girl next to me tried to kiss me.
4. A Certain Ratio – 2nd Womad. The birth of the Barmy Army ACR army and trying to instigate the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’ as a new dance move.
5. Slim Gaillard – The Wag Club, my best man ended up on stage singing the encore with him.
6. Weekend – The Escape Club, Brighton. Alison Statton very shy and Simon Booth’s big orange Gretsch.
7. New Order – The Basement, Brighton. One of their earliest gigs. Lots of very long coats and even longer stares.
8. Orange Juice – Victoria. Edwyn Collins in lovely checked shirt absolutely mangled ‘In a nutshell’.
9. The Fall – 2nd Womad. MES on stage at lunchtime, stopped ‘Gut of the Quantifier’ three times to berate the drummer.
10. Toumani Diabate – Sydney Opera House 2009. I didn’t know he had had polio as a kid until I saw his bright green walking stick. I also didn’t know music could be so sublime.
11. 23 Skiddoo – 1st Womad. In the Balinese/Gamelan tent playing an impromptu gig, moving away from the funk.
12. The Clash – Hastings Pier 1978. The opening rush of the band to the front of the stage for ‘Safe European Homes’ made the whole audience take a step back.
13. Siouxsie & the Banshees – Hastings Pier 1977. Pre-split, searing guitar, scary lady!
14. Gang of Four – Barbican 2006. A vibrant run through of ‘Entertainment’ although sounded a lot like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers at one stage (oh the irony!)
15. Madness – Luna Park, Sydney 2009 One step Beyond… cue 3,000 poms about to go mental
16. The Who – Wembley Stadium 1979. Look at those old blokes on stage. F’in hippies.
17. The Birthday Party – The Richmond, Brighton. I don’t think that band like us!
18. John Cooper Clarke, The Basement, Sydney 2007. Kept his poetry in a Tesco carrier bag.
19. Beggar – The Archery, Eastbourne. A welsh mod band. They went round all the various pubs in Eastbourne to drum up support. We all then walked to The Archery, raucous set and 6 pints of Harveys equalled a very good night.
20. Teardrop Explodes – Jenkinsons, Brighton. Met Julian Cope in toilets, eyes like saucepan lids and flight jacket on, the true Copey experience.
21. Scritti Politti – The Tate Gallery Garden 2006. Stage front, having lugged cricket gear up from Brighton and blagged way into VIP area. Nicked one of Green’s plectrums.
22. Arctic Monkeys – Hordern Pavillion, Sydney 2009. Worryingly rockist tendencies beginning to emerge from Sheffield’s finest.
23. The Beat - 1st Womad. A brilliant sunshine music gig. Having previously spent the day playing football with Dave Wakeling, Ranking Roger and the Drummers from Burundi (Tip: When playing the D from B, keep it on the deck!).
24. Paul Weller – BBC Theatre at Broadcasting House. Gary Crowley in the audience. Paulo Hewitt too (ahh, those were the days)
25. The Hip Troop – Diplocks, Eastbourne 1983. A punk version of Boyhood sent the punters home happy.
26. Echo & the Bunnymen – Top Rank, Brighton 1982. Drummer Pete DeFreitas was at front of stage left. Only time I’ve ever seen that.
27. Sade – Heaven 1984. The trendiest gig ever, also one of the worst musically.
28. Animal Nightlife – Cinema, Brixton 80’s. Likewise trendy mo-fo’s everywhere, music better though Andy Polaris (real name?) couldn’t sing for a toffee!
29. Trouble Funk – Leadmill, Sheffield 80’s. Went up from South Coast with Tom and the South East Krew dropped the bomb!
30. Marcus Valle – Sydney Opera House 2008. Sweet Samba sounds. MV dressed in true beach bum style.
31. Gary Glitter – De la Warr Gardens, Bexhill 1973. Only saw him play three songs then had to get train home.
32. Supergrass – Paris 2004. Went by myself, drank loads, chatted to a girl from Normandy, very pleasant evening.
33. The Prisoners – Town & Country Club 2002. A reunion gig for the Medways modsters. Much fun had by all.
34. Aztec Camera – The Escape Club, Brighton early 80’s. ‘The Boy Wonders’ dedicated to ‘The Eastbourne Boys’.
35. The Pop Group – CND March, Trafalgar Square 1980. Jerusalem echoing out around the Square and cans upon cans of Tiger Beer.
36. Madonna – Wembley, early 90’s. An absolute nightmare.
37. Rod Stewart - Wembley, early 90’s. Even worse.
38. Prince – Earls Court, early 90’s. Arrived late, left early, marriage very nearly didn’t happen.
39. Rip, Rig & Panic - Sussex University 1984. Man those cats were crazy, all very loose limbed. Mark Springer was magnificent.
40. The Specials – Top Rank, Brighton 1980. A real sense of menace filled the venue, amazing gig, pleased to get out alive!
41. The Slits – The Celtic Club, Sydney 2008. Ari Up prancing around in multi-coloured lycra. All very sad and disappointing.
42. Dexy’s Midnight Runners – Royal Festival Hall, London 2005. A reunion gig, still in fine voice but decidedly camp mini theatrics mid-set recalled dubious dress appearance at Reading.
43. Pet Shop Boys – V Festival, Sydney 2008. Chris Lowe ‘singing’ Paninaro and a big heffelump of an Aussie woman breaking my big toe.
44. Teenbeats – Hastings Pier 1979. Sleeping underneath Hastings Pier after gig.
45. Graham Coxon – HMV, Oxford Street 2006. Found a copy of ‘Democrazy’ the Damon Albarn rare solo album in the racks. Coxon looked cool.
46. Geno Washington – Colne Community Centre, Lancashire 2004. The most pitiful sight possible. Geno and a heavy metal guitarist covering his classics.
47. Bob Dylan – Sydney Entertainment Centre 2008. Despite only being able to see Dylan’s back hunched over keyboards for the whole of the gig. He was actually quite good.
48. Roddy Frame – University College, London 2006. So pissed I couldn’t even sit up straight, very embarrassing.
49. The Freds – Manly Aquarium 2009. The fish racing round the tanks first clockwise and then on some silent signal, anti-clockwise.
50. The Smiths – Sussex University 1984. Gladioli everywhere, Johnny Marr officially the coolest man on earth. Nearly missed last train.

Poll Result - Favourite London Premiership Team

A shock result

1. Chelsea
2. West Ham United
3. Fulham

Newhaven Ferry

Slow, lumbering, smelly, floor awash with vomit and beer. The Newhaven ferry to Dieppe, left at 10 am & 10 pm every day. A cantankerous crew, irritated truckers (all that Sulphate would keep them buzzing ‘round the deck for the length of the four hour journey), school trips (on the morning run), cheapskate Eurorailers (in the evening) and a clutch of low-fi hipsters heading for Dieppe and then the bright lights of Montmatre.

We used to take the night trip more often than not (10 quid cheaper). Fuelled on cheap lager, we’d get the train via Lewes and manage to slink on board about 10 minutes before departure. Although one particularly snowbound journey led to a 12 hour wait in ‘The Last Pub in England’. Plenty of opportunity to spend all remaining holiday money on toasted cheese sandwiches.

The rusting, lilting Transmanche ferries, take ages to do anything – not least open up the bars. A couple of lagers and only a bloody Toblerone to keep us company as we ease out of the alternative ‘gateway to the South’, so farewell to the fort, the River Ouse and Seven Sisters… Onwards, rolling onwards to France, Europe, the World!

When we finally got to the other side, tired, wet, cold and not a tad seasick. We’d be herded onto the docks and onto the trains (snatched memories of different mpre sinister circumstances) and then head off for Paris. All the while very conscious of the lingering smell of Newhaven – vomit & beer!

Poll Results - Gentlemen's Shoes

1. Stout Brogues (no surprise)
2. Chelsea Boots
3. Bass Weejuns

The Art of being an English Gentleman (Part 6)

Wake up early in a large four poster bed with a flighty young poppet called Caresse curled up at my feet. Lean over the prone form of a gorgeous young red head (name not given) and neck vast goblet of Vodka Champagne from previous night.

The tattoo on my chest reminds me where, when and with whom I should be. Ease out of sheets, pad to chair, pop on finest tweeds, subtle checked shirt and finest stout brogues. Kiss both lovelies on nape, gun another Vodka Champagne and head out into the dawn. Drive like the wind. Get home late, slip into empty bed, nurse a slight hangover and a serious drink. Go to sleep drunk...

Tate Modern

A pile of bricks, a bastardised tube map, an expensive members bar, a view over the river to St Pauls Cathedral.

Love it!

Jerusalem by William Blake

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?


And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?


Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.


I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

20 overs in the last hour

Standing at mid-off at the Saffrons, watching the town hall clock edge round to half past six. A squadron of Housemartins flit off over Larkins and the umpries confer. 20 overs in the last hour. A 100 runs required and five wickets spare. The game picks up pace, the last four and a half hours have all been geared towards this point. The out batsmen are already leaning gently into a lager top, the bowlers are trying to find a pair of pads to borrow and I'm standing at mid-off trying to catch the captain's eye. Whispering loudly, "Bring me on from the sea end skip and I'll wrap this up before seven".

Down to the final two overs 19 runs needed. Spread the field out, but keep them down to a single. Locko from the Larkins end and Beazles from the sea. The croquet match has finished and the bar is filling up. One over to go 10 to win, 2 wickets to go and the clock says twenty to eight...

2 balls, 4 runs and a wicket to go. Standing under an absolute steepler down at deep long on. You wouldn't want to change a single moment of this for the whole of the big wide world.

Wazthat? You absolute beauty!

Poll Results - Summer Drink

1. Pimms & Lemonade 66%
2. Cold lager 24%
3. Crispy White 10%

Trebetherick

A few gentle words from Sir Johnny B

We used to picnic where the thrift
Grew deep and tufted to the edge;
We saw the yellow foam flakes drift
In trembling sponges on the ledge
Below us, till the wind would lift
Them up the cliff and o’er the hedge.
Sand in the sandwiches, wasps in the tea,
Sun on our bathing dresses heavy with the wet,
Squelch of the bladder-wrack waiting for the sea,
Fleas around the tamarisk, an early cigarette.

From where the coastguard houses stood
One used to see below the hill,
The lichened branches of a wood
In summer silver cool and still;
And there the Shade of Evil could
Stretch out at us from Shilla Mill.
Thick with sloe and blackberry, uneven in the light,
Lonely round the hedge, the heavy meadow was remote,
The oldest part of Cornwall was the wood as black as night,
And the pheasant and the rabbit lay torn open at the throat.

But when a storm was at its height,
And feathery slate was black in rain,
And tamarisks were hung with light
And golden sand was brown again,
Spring tide and blizzard would unite
And sea come flooding up the lane.
Waves full of treasure then were roaring up the beach,
Ropes round our mackintoshes, waders warm and dry,
We waited for the wreckage to come swirling into reach,
Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and I.

Then roller into roller curled
And thundered down the rocky bay,
And we were in a water world
Of rain and blizzard, sea and spray,
And one against the other hurled
We struggled round to Greenaway.
Blesséd be St Enodoc, blesséd be the wave,
Blesséd be the springy turf, we pray, pray to thee,
Ask for our children all happy days you gave
To Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and me.

John Betjeman

Office romances

In my first job in local government, barely a day would pass without some sort of outbreak of intrigue, argument, emotional bust up or general flirting. The office was the hotbed of frustrated love, volcanic lust, seething jealousy and unguarded emotion.

Nowadays it is just a hollow shell.

Hangovers

They come in all different shapes and sizes of course but here are a few I have very fond memories of (?)

The jet lag hangover - Having stepped off the flight from Sydney after a fair few sparkling whites and pale Chardonnays. The slowness of reaction and gentle numbness of the brain brings me face to face with the everyday reality of being a high street bank employee or a local councillor.

The surprise hangover - I only had two pints of Stella Artois last night. Oh and half a bottle of Jamesons. Oh and a bottle of Pouilly Fume.

The early evening hangover - When lunchtime drinking becomes an unshakeable throbbing by the time I've got home.

The not really hungover hangover - A big one, late to bed, wake up early for work, feel good. Feel really good, feel absolutely tip-top chipper, feel like singing 'Boogie Wonderland' on my way to the tube. This is a clear sign that only 4 rounds of toast and two cans of coke and very large cappuccino will help offset the impending hangover from hell.

The I'll never drink again hangover - !!!

The if I just have a quick couple of pints, I'll be alright hangover - Delaying the inevitable I know. But sometimes, just sometimes it really does work!

Poll Results - Sunny Day

You would prefer to spend a beautiful English Summers Day

In a park (66%)
On the beach (33%)
In the pub (0%)
In bed (0%)

Which comes as a bit of a surprise. You quaint old things you...

Lunchtime sun bathing

Quick, the sun is out! Let's get naked!

I used to work just off Carnaby Street and when the sun shone, everyone in the surrounding area would head for the nearest square metre of grass and strip down to their underwear within seconds. Previously quiet and shy Sub Editors would think nothing of stripping down to their rather well upholstered Triumph bras. Meanwhile, the young Promotions Manager wouldn't miss out the opportunity to reveal the benefits of six months private training sessions with his newly acquired 'good friend'.

The determination to get a tan was quite remarkable. A colleague used to sit by the window with her bare arms dangling outside for half of the day. She would then spin the chair round and proceed to toast the other arm whilst continuing to field irate telephone calls from 'that idiot at Estee Lauder'.

All of which reminds me that London is beautiful when the sun shines and the streets shimmer in the heat. Add to that the chance to have a pint outside on the street whilst admiring the not inconsiderable views and you have another thing I miss about dear old Blighty!