Monday, 7 February 2011

I want to grow up not blow up

The story that chocolate is healthier than fruit is the kind of tale we have written but on this occasion it wasn't one of ours. Even we might be thought to be stretching it a bit, considering that the 'independent' scientists who came up with it had been commissioned by Hershey.
Next week: fruit is healthier than chocolate according to a greengrocer.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
All this talk of Ronald Reagan will not mean much to most people under 40 but a lot of us with leanings slightly to the left will feel a wave of nostalgia for the days when he had his finger next to the button in America while Maggie did so in this country. That was a golden age to go on a march.
A mate of mine who was very young at the time used to be dragged with his lefty family to stand outside Fullwell Cross Swimming Baths in Barkingside on a weekend holding placards that said 'I want to grow up not blow up' as a protest against nuclear arms proliferation while those of us who were older wore our berets and combat jackets to march on the Embankment in the hope a decent band would perform for nothing (we got our wish when The Jam turned up unannounced and did a gig from the back of a flatbed truck.)
My poor pal outside the swimming baths hated being there, particular as he watched his mates file past to go swimming but he eventually got his own back on the left. He is now a senior executive of the Mail on Sunday.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It may feel like the kind of newspaper that should have been lining budgie cages in the 19th century but, perhaps surprisingly, the Sunday Telegraph celebrated its 50th birthday at the weekend.
Yes, just 50, even though the Daily is 150 years old (as are most of its readers).
It has spawned a number of high profile journalists over the years from Nigel Lawson and Robert Peston to Peregrine Worsthorne and Christopher Booker but we shouldn't hold it against them.
The first editor of the paper was a man called Donald McLachlan, one of those elder statesmen of Grub Street that you just don't seem to get any more. According to those who knew him he was either brilliant or nuts. No more so than when he announced the first TV critic of the new paper would be the distinguished High Tory T.E.Utley...who had been blind since the age of nine.
Perhaps a sign of how the paper has changed is that the online report in the Telegraph about the anniversary is littered with spelling mistakes and inaccuracies, kindly pointed out by a number of readers.
------------------------------------------------------------------
The death of Gary Moore is one of those events that sets us all off talking about the best gig you ever saw. These debates are interesting because the answer is not necessarily your favourite band or artist but the ones who are the best live. For instance, I can remember seeing The Housemartins in a room above a pub playing to an audience of about 20 of us. They were great live though I didn't rush out and buy everything they ever made. Similarly I saw The Ramones supporting U2 who were equally good. And I saw Thin Lizzy minus Phil Lynott who had already died but with Bob Geldof replacing him. And in Dublin too. I can also recall fantastic live performances by Bowie, The Damned, Teardrop Explodes, The Monochrome Set and the wonderful General Saint and Clint Eastwood. Look them up.
But my favourite gig was Talking Heads at Wembley Arena supported by Tom Tom Club (who included David Byrne's missus so she had a busy night) around 1982. Hard to say why except the music was great, the atmosphere was wonderful and I was with good friends. Just special, that's all.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Speaking of music I have to say that even as an old fart how impressed I am by Jessie James. Good lyrics, great attitude and she looks a lot better in a body stocking than, say, spoilt brat Chloe 'I'm talented in my own right' Madeley. She seems part of some kind of Essex revival in music and comedy and culture that is a welcome antidote to all this 'Only Way Is Essex' rubbish. They may not be to everyone's taste but give me the Essex of Jessie James and Pixie Lott or Dean Kane and Russell Brand or even Jamie Oliver over Jack Tweed or Chantelle Houghton or some other reality TV nomark any day of the week.
Shut uuuupppp....Solly

No comments:

Post a Comment