Like most good Christians and Hindus and Jews I was sickened by the goings on in Rochdale, that have been covered extensively by the media of late.However,I have been equally sickened by an article in the 'i' newspaper I read last week.In it Yasmin Alibhai-Brown laments that she was warned not to comment for fear of inflaming racial tensions.As part of her rhetoric she proposes that 'the rapists are all probably in one sense 'good' muslims' and also offers the re-assurance that 'most men who groom and rape young girls in Britain are white'.Well thanks for that Yasmin.But since you are so au fait with the definition of a 'good' muslim,can you tell me just how bad you have to be to be a 'bad' muslim.Is a bad Muslim one who refuses to rape underage girls? Is a bad muslim one who refuses to take down an American Airlines plane while simultaneously liquidising his bollocks? I really do need to know.How poetic if the rapists where fitted with 'Muslim Thunderpants' which detonated upon erection.Now that's what Lord Roby calls justice!
Its at this time of year my thoughts start to turn to...well Huddersfield!....For back in 1977, I decided to forego my Christmas Dinner in the forlorn hope of gatecrashing the Sex Pistols Christmas Day bash in Ivanhoes Club,Hudddersfield.We arrived there early enough to be able to walk in the place and witness the carnage that was the aftermath of the Firemans kids party.Ever the oppportunists we decided it would be a good idea to hide in the toilets.Never get found in there would we?...We were turfed out within the hour with the promise of tickets if we waited for a roadie to appear.The roadie duly appeared but wanted £3 for a £1.75 ticket.For some reason he didn't want paying for mine,so I guess mine was a freebie.Maybe I was on the guest list!
We started out in the balcony,great view but no blood sweat and tears.So I went downstairs alone.After about 10 minutes I was within touching distance of the stage, right in the middle.This was an art perfected at Clash gigs in Erics Club,Liverpool.The gig came and went with God Save The Queen at both ends.I was quite an air drummer at this time so I decided to chance my arm and jump on stage at the end and grab the last two sticks on Paul Cooks kit.Got them too! But not being satisfied, I stopped to ask John (not Johnny that would have been a bit too familiar) for the Steel Pulse badge on his lapel.He politely refused and put his left hand over it for protection.As I made my exit I paused to take the sticks from my kecks, for fear of doing myself an injury.This proved fatal, as it gave Malcolm McClaren the time to catch me(round the throat).I was nearly blue in the face by the time I let go!....The roadie feeling sorry for me, rewarded me with a 'Holidays in the Sun' poster as he took the sticks from me...the last sticks they ever played with in this country as it turned out.Still for one night only ....Huddersfield really was.. the Rock and Roll capital of the world.P.S..... Lord Roby is in the picture above.A poster for the first correct guess.And no,I am not the one in the sad Emu coat!'.
The 4th of July is notable for one thing in Liverpool; the outbreak of the Toxteth Riots.So today on local radio,we have had endless blackman bleating about how bad things were and still are for blackyouth,blackmama and blackpapa....blah....blah...blah....No mention of the white guys who were equally disenfranchised at the time and joined in to vent their anger.These were serious,full scale riots...and the plod were well and truly caught with their pants down.So lets move forward 30 years.Whats changed? Well Bob Harris has just been given a gong for his 'services' to music.Personally ,I thought the kids choir at the Palm House ,Sefton Park on Sunday did more for music in an hour but thats only my opinion.But ,what I liked,was that it was a genuinely multi racial choir, White kids,Poles,Jewish,Asian,Indian and Pakistani...only one race was missing..You've guessed it 'the blackman who got a lorra problems'....I see it.or rather don't see time and time again.I don't see blackman at the theatre,the museum.Dont even see him in B and bastard Q....Don't see him walkin his dog.....or at the summer fete or playing golf,cricket or anything for that matter.Didn't see him at all amongst 75,000 whiteys at Aintree for the Grand National.Maybe he was at dem Camptown Races....Black people in Liverpool live in Liverpool 8 'ghetto' because they choose to,,they don't get involved because they choose not to.All other races are present throughout Liverpool and it's conurbations.All blackman seems interested in is 'eatin jerk chicken and bangin booty....It's a wonderful life in L8
Recently, Lord Roby had the pleasure of his attendung his first beer festival.It was long overdue.Because I was attending on my Jack Jones I was a bit apprehensive.Would I fit in? Would there be any eye candy or would it just be a bunch of old Swan types.(The Swan is a well established real ale boozer in downtown Liverpool for the uninitiated.) It turned out to be full of old Swan types and students.I didn't fit in.So there was no alternative but to talk to the beer.First up was Straw Dog.Very nice indeed.Next up Durdle Door(from Dorset no doubt).Also very palatable.This was followed by a gill of Palm.I can't remember what this one was like,but it was nice enough to imbibe.I was now racing headlong into the second hour.By this time I was also starting to practice my 'Liver Dance'.Edinburgh Gold was a reluctant choice but I felt I had patronise the locals.It was absolutely spiffing.By now I was like a kid in a sweet shop.I couldn't get enough of the stuff down my neck quickly enough.I was in a beer frenzy.I somehow had the sense to put all the names of the different brews in my mobile phone.I was starting to run out of consciousness ; and so had to pick the next brew with care.Corncrake!! That's the one for me.Another winner,I was beginning to feel like it was time to 'walk'.I had over-imbibed by some degree.I had enough cells left for 'just one more'.There it was staring right at me.Mersey Mist.No don't ask me why but this was the only beer I could remember the flavour of.Maybe it was because it was a wheat beer made by Liverpool 1 that tasted of orangesages and lemons.Delish.
It was time to leave.I had spent the best two hours imaginable and spent all of £20 and let's just say I left 'Liver Dancing' and very,very..'Mersey Mist'!!!
The good thing about blogs is that sometimes they write themselves.As was the case last weekend during my trip back to Two Dogs.On the trip home from Edinburgh to Roby I decided to wait for the Pendolino,for no other reason than I could charge up my mobile phone.As a table seat is required for this,the only seat left was opposite a couple of guys travelling back to Birmingham,I assume.As I tried to sit down,I felt an obstruction.A case perchance,or maybe a backpack.No.It was the guy opposites legs/feet and he had no intention of moving them.Unperturbed, I proceeded to stamp on them.He grudgingly moved his feet just enough to let me sit down.Funny though,when I glared at him; he continued to look right through me as if I wasn't there.After about an hour of this I decided to go the bar for a drink.I was beginning to rise to the bait.When I returned to my dismay the plates of meat had not moved.This time I made a point of standing on them as hard as I could, while looking him in the eye.No response.All this time, the guy did not move or talk to his 'friend' next to him.He didn't eat,drink,smile,move,get up to pee,read a mag.I was beginning to think that maybe it was Ramadan.What's more,when his friend talked on the phone,(in Arabic) he had his hand over his mouth(?).These guys were not your average travellers.Sufficiently worried,I told a guard of my concerns as I went to find another seat.He did sweet F.A.In fact the just laughed.When I returned to pick up my phone about 10mins before reaching Wigan,I encountered another bout of footsie.When I unplugged my mobile I found it was jammed!Strange not even emergency calls.
Needless to say ,when I went to have my phone unjammed, I told the local plod of my concerns.They were very attentive.Now, I am no supergrass but these two definitely deserved 'blowing up'.
Contrast this with my return trip to Aberdeen.The two girls opposite were giggling,talking,ringing mom (all in Hebrew).Except for when they burst into a rendition of the chorus of 'Psychokiller' by Talking Heads.I couldn't help but laugh, mainly because I knew all the English words they didn't.Now, I don't know about you,but who are the most likely psychokillers?The one's who acted like it.....or the one's who sang about it......Que est ce que c'est ????
Every year while watching the U.S. Masters from Augusta, I make a promise to myself that one day I will go there.Not necessarily for the golf tournament, but to just be at the place itself.Augusta,Georgia always looks immaculate and perfectly manicured.She is always pleasing on the eye ; and the weather there always looks perfect.Invariably, I have either got the time or the money but never both at the right time.Next year I will have both in union.Fortunately, my cousin lives only a relatively short drive from the course.All I have to do now is run it by Lady Roby.Well; it is generally held on or around my birthday, so what could there possibly be to object to.So maybe, I will be on that Midnight Train to Georgia pretty soon and it really will be like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.
Last weekend The Ladies Roby came up to Aberdeen to visit Pa-pa.Now, during his time in the Scottish Highlands Lord Roby has taken to walking lot.In fact,walking everywhere.Whereas back in downtown Two Dogs there is a definate tendancy to take a cab, if the is no chauffeur on hand.So cabs it was.The first cab was duly despatched to us all for breakfast.The destination was; left at the lights and straight through the roundabout to 'Prego' for breakfast.When we reached the roundabout the taxi turned right! I duly told the driver to keep on round the roundabout until he 'understood'.We all laughed.After a very tasty breakfast, we embarked on a pleasant day of shopping and snacking and headed back to the hotel for a rest, prior to a birthday meal for young Lady Roby.After a few drinks in town we decided to get a taxi back.After the earlier confusion I decided to give the driver as much information as I could regarding our hotel.'Its the Great Western Hotel on Great Western Road,opposite the church,before you get to the Mariners Hotel and this side of Burns Road.He duly drove straight past the hotel !! As I looked at him and pointed at the hotel he just muttered 'Oh that used to be called The Clubhouse'...to which I retorted..'and I suppose the church was the 1st Hole'.He growled and drove off, albeit with a tip!! I was beginning to get a tad pissed off. But after a good nights sleep we decided to head in to town for a Sunday breakfast.No problems this time, other than we were overcharged by a £1.00 for two non-existant suitcases.That cost the driver a £2 tip. I was now totally anti-taxi.Nevertheless, after a great time on Sunday evening there was no way the Ladies were walking home in heels.So, I reluctantly succumbed.We hailed a taxi and told him the name of the hotel.He set off in the opposite direction! I immediately told the thieving bar-steward to 'do a uey'.He obliged with a u-turn, while growling some gaelic curses I presume.By the time we got to the hotel....about 90 seconds....I was ready to blow.The money was thrown in his face after I had told him all about my 'bad taxi day'.The door was duly slammed.At which point;he lowered his window and gave me the fingers while pulling off.'Have a nice day' I think he growled.Needless to say I am now happy to rely on Shank's Pony.
Upper Working Class Evertonian made good.Used to be Working Class.Hates injustice particularly by bent referees and detests bad service but loves life and all that it brings.Carpe Diem from the cradle to the grave and beyond.