The Banksy Limitless exhibition collects a large number of Banksy works, plus other works inspired by Banksy, in a pop-up gallery in South Kensington, ironically on the site of a former Christies auction house.
The Cous Cous Club is a gathering of Alleyn’s Old Boys from the mid to late 1970s – most of whom I have therefore known for over 50 years at the time of writing. In fact many of us have been gathering occasionally and informally in this way for decades.
It was one of Rohan Candappa’s ideas to name and brand a well established thing that previously had no sense of brand identity. Rohan used to be in advertising, but now does this sort of thing in his spare time.
I missed the inaugural meeting of the Cous Cous Club at Souk back in early autumn. I was in the USA, talking at the International Tennis Hall of Fame about events 150 years ago, at another of my clubs, that led to the codification of tennis into the modern game as we know it:
Still, despite the fact that I might easily confuse CCC and MCC in future conversations, Rohan invited me to join the Cous Cous Club for its first Christmas dinner and naturally I said “yes please”.
I was the first to arrive at the restaurant. Most of the party had gathered at a nearby hostelry for a pre-dinner drink, whereas I was coming hot foot from a prior engagement.
My earlier appointment had been a meeting with Professor Tim Connell, to plan my slot at the Gresham Society soirée, which this time will be in mid January rather than during the pre Christmas mêlée. I usually grace the soirée with late medieval music…sometimes more genuine than other times:
As the Cous Cous Club was on my mind, I teased Tim with the notion that I was planning, for Gresham Society, a sing-along of very, very old songs: Slade, Sweet, T-Rex, Rod…
But once I realised that Tim was close to tears and/or apoplexy at this thought, I showed him the early 17th century material, with a Gresham College connection, which I actually have in mind for the soirée sing-along. Tim then cheered up and calmed down.
Anyway, point is, as first to arrive at Souk, I got to chat with the charming and friendly waiter who was to be our main host for the evening. When I explained to him what the Cous Cous Club was, and the antiquity of our shared experience, the waiter was quite blown away. I suspect that young waiter has been on the planet for less half the time we Alleyn’s Old Boys have known each other.
No pressure…
…I said to the waiter, who just beamed, knowing that he and his colleagues would be able to cope with whatever collective curve balls our group of old boys might throw at them.
Then the main gang turned up from the pub, followed by a trickle of late-comers.
So who was there?…
…I hear multiple readers cry. Let’s call the register. This is school, after all, even if it is 50+ years on:
Nick Wahla
Rohan Candappa
Claire Brooke
Paul Driscoll
Simon Ryan
Andy Feeley
Dave Leach
Steve Butterworth
Perry Harley
John Eltham
Me (obvs).
Rohan provided each of us with a fez…apart from John Eltham who, always one of the keenest scouts, had brought his own. Rohan also awarded me my Cous Cous Club membership badge, which felt a bit like being inducted into The Tufty Club, but without first having to cross the road safely.
There were a couple of notable absences, not least Lisa Pavlovsky and Dave Wellbrook. That led, naturally, to those absent friends getting the hardest time of the evening. That might seem unfair, as they had no opportunity on the night to defend themselves, but life isn’t fair. The fact that life isn’t fair is a lesson you learn early at the very best schools. You also learn it at Alleyn’s. And you especially learn that lesson at the Cous Cous Club.
Claire Brooke had come all the way from Harrogate for the evening. Rohan felt, with some justification, that a wrong from the first gathering needed to be put right.
At the early Autumn inaugural Cous Cous Club gathering, Rohan had awarded Lisa Pavlovsky with a trophy recognising her as the first female House Captain at Alleyn’s School.
Lisa, awarded, beaming, early autumn 2025. Photo “borrowed” from Facebook.
But soon after that first event, it emerged that Claire Brooke had been the first female House Captain, albeit a joint one, the previous year. Rohan felt obliged to put matters right:
Claire, beaming, with her revenge trophy, awarded by Rohan, December 2025
Chat soon turned to sport and tales of derring-do gone by. As usual, John Eltham and Nigel Boatswain reminded me about my infeasibly successful/lucky stint in goal against them (Cribbs v Duttons) although the exact details of that story keep changing in people’s memories.
Exciting news, gang – I have actually found a diary reference to that glorious day on the football pitch, which might well be my only such diary entry in all the years I kept diaries. To be Ogblogged in the fullness of time – watch that space.
Then there was reference to the question “who was the youngest grandfather”, as Andy Feeley has recently become one of those. My arithmetical brain worked out that Dave Leach must have first become a grandfather when he was younger than Andy Feeley is now…which I think is right…but apparently that wasn’t the question. Andy Feeley was the youngest person in the room who is now a grandfather.
My confusion was deemed to be Wellbrookian, which turned the conversation to thoughts of Dave Wellbrook and why he wasn’t with us.
Has the lurgy…
…was as close to a polite answer as we got.
Dave Unwellbrook, then…
…I bet no-one had ever made that joke before.
Talk then naturally turned to Wellbrook’s recent treading of the boards, which several (braver than me) Cous Cous Club members had witnessed.
Wellbrook’s self-image, from Facebook. Is this acting, the method or something entirely other?
Nick Wahla’s review was an absolute classic. I paraphrase:
Wellbrook was very much himself in that performance, but he occasionally lapsed into real acting.
Praise indeed. Nick – you really should turn your hand to being a theatre critic.
Out of nowhere, Perry Harley related a story to me about him meeting Mungo Jerry while on holiday in Bournemouth. Perry wondered whether I remembered any Mungo Jerry songs other than “In the Summertime”.
Off the top of my head, I mentioned “Alright Alright Alright” and “Long Legged Woman Dressed In Black”, which raised much mirth and some scepticism too.
It was hard to disabuse Perry and friends of the scepticism, as neither Perry nor I could get our smartphones to connect to the outside world.
Strange how my memory instantly dredged up these tunes and lyrics from that era, way back when we all first met.
Rohan shot a short clip of video that evening, which I can share with you, dear, long-suffering readers:
I wondered, on seeing that clip, whether I might now, after all these years, be even more gobby than Nick Wahla. Now THERE’S a thought.
Yet, I was hugely honoured to read, on Facebook, that Rich Davies – who is hiding in Canada, blaming a little bit of slightly inclement weather for his absence from the evening – had awarded me the Golden Camel for looking the most Moroccan amongst us. That might have had something to do with the fact that I was the last to remove my fez hat.
Anyway, in case it isn’t clear by now, it was great to see everyone and I’m pretty sure we all had a great time.
Thanks, Rohan, for being such a stalwart organiser of great get-togethers. Much appreciated. And so well branded.
Colin clinched the china after strivin’ for the Ivan, the beaker for the burlesque is the cup snuck by Chalice…
London Cricket Trust Dinner At Soutine, 9 December 2025
This is the second time we’ve had our London Cricket Trust Christmas dinner at Soutine after our last Board meeting of the year.
Smug and self-satisfied we are not, but we are now able to boast 118 non-turf pitch installations and 21 net system installations completed since we started seven years ago. “Way to go”, as our transatlantic friends might put it, but this is a transformational number of facilities in parks around London that would otherwise have been without.
Chris Whitaker, Ed Griffiths, Ian Moore, Sophie Kent and I enjoyed the meal and the company.
Dedanists’ Society Lunch, Lemonia, 11 December 2025
These images from the Dedanists’ Society website, depicting the lunch last year
Always a highlight of the festive season, this gathering of dedicated realists provided an opportunity to talk real tennis, in contrast with my activities earlier in the week which were about cricket.
Hard ball doesn’t get much harder than this. I tried to be suitably abstemious, or at least minimally lubricated, as I also had an evening engagement that evening…
The Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Goodge Street Spaghetti House, 11 December 2025
A slightly depleted gang gathered for the traditional seasonal Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, which has, for decades now, included a form of quizzing for the Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Trophy. More recently, since the demise of NewsRevue founder and mentor Mike Hodd, we also play for a Mike Hodd memorial trophy. I won “the Hoddy” last year, which meant that it was my job to come up with a suitable game/quiz for this year’s contest.
The gang for dinner this year comprised me, John Random, Barry Grossman, Hugh Ryecroft, Chalice Am Bergris, Mark Keegan and Colin Stutt.
Barry Grossman started the game proceedings with the Ivan Shakespeare Trophy quiz. I did rather badly and Colin Stutt did rather well.
Then it was my turn to curate a game/quiz for the Hoddy. Below is the game.
Any reader should feel free to write in, ianlharris@gmail.com, and I’ll gladly mark your questions. No pressure, but Chalice scored eight-and-a-half, which was a joint top score, winning by dint of the humour bonus on one of her questions.
It’s not all about quizzes and awards, of course. Heaven forbid. The chat at dinner was lively and witty as always.
Z/Yen Seasonal Lunch, Watermen’s Hall, 12 December 2025
After a hearty hit on the tennis court at Lord’s and an even stouter Board Meeting at King William Street, the Z/Yen throng retired to Watermen’s Hall for seasonal lunch and festivities.
Secret Santa did his best to liven up the post lunch activities, despite certain seemingly intelligent folk strangely finding the idea of Secret Santa hard to understand…not mentioning any names, Bob Pay.
Then quizzing and singing. As part of Z/Yen’s journey towards net zero…in this case zero effort more than necessary…the Z/Yen seasonal quiz bore more than a passing resemblance to the Hoddy one depicted above…apart from the title and Z/Yen logos where the pictures of Mike Hodd are shown above.
Readers are as welcome to have a go and send in your questions for the Z/Yen quiz as you were for the Mike Hodd one. No pressure, but the combined forces of Juliet and Charlotte managed a most impressive nine. Questions that were too clever for their own good did not find favour with the judge, which was a bit of a disadvantage for the more-propellor-headed attendees.
As a further lurch in the direction of net zero (excess effort), I also road tested the idea of getting a random bunch of people to sing Jacobean songs, which worked almost as well with Z/Yen as it seems to be working with the real tennis community on skills nights. But that’s another story. As (will be) the attempt to get Gresham Society people singing in that manner.
Suffice it to say that the Z/Yen community was so motivated by the “We Be Three Poor Mariners” song that they danced around the Watermen’s table while singing it. Apt, I suppose, at Watermen’s.
Horror is not normally a genre that would draw me and Janie into the theatre. But this piece sounded fascinating when it was announced many months ago and we trust Hampstead Downstairs to look after us…even though the tickets came through saying “main stage” rather than “downstairs” (see headline image).
We also trusted that Jamie Armitage would look after us, following a similarly genre-busting experience with his play, An Interrogation, earlier this year – in that instance the genre was police procedurals – a genre we would normally avoid even more emphatically than horror.
We were right to trust our hosts and our playwright. A Ghost In Your Ear, which we saw on the first preview performance, was an entertaining and interesting evening in the theatre. It held our attention and teased our senses throughout its 90+ minutes. If anything, we felt a little over-stimulated, especially aurally so, having earlier seen another performance:
What both performances had in common was the use of sound in fascinating ways to trigger the desired dramatic effect. Also, both pieces explored ideas around the notion that the past can haunt the present, be that through nostalgia, elements of our past that were hidden from us…or that we hide from ourselves…or ghosts.
A Ghost In Your Ear uses a technique called binaural sound, which is “beyond stereo”, requiring the wearing of headphones in order to get a more genuine three-dimensional effect from the sound. Ben and Max Ringham are, apparently, THE go to sound engineers for this sort of sound engineering – this production has gone to the go to people. Jamie Armitage explains it in a short vid:
Janie and I certainly both got the sensation that the sound was all around us, which added a fair bit to the horror experience. At one point during our preview, the binaural quality of the sound dropped away for two or three minutes. I don’t think deliberately. For sure the sensation was diminished and then reinstated, when the binaural sound was fully restored. Our contemporaries who are now a little hard of hearing might get less out of the binaural sound effects.
But the reasons for seeing this piece go way beyond the clever sound (and indeed some superb visual) effects. In particular, we were much taken with George Blagden’s acting. He was not only on stage but absolutely central to the action throughout. He must speak 95% of the lines, which he did quite brilliantly – a top notch performance, we both felt.
It is also a very thought-provoking piece, beyond what I had expected from a ghost story play. Without spoiling the effect by disclosing the twists, it dawned on me, as the play unfolded, that people are far more readily haunted by things that have happened to them and things that they have been told, than they are haunted by ghosts. This play, using the “story within a story” technique that has been used since the dawn of story-telling time, deliberately messes with the ghost story genre in that way. Are the characters haunted by a ghost, or are they haunted by a ghost story, or are they simply haunted by their own, natural fears?
Jamie Armitage not only writes but also directs his own pieces. I have oft said that I don’t really approve of playwrights directing their own pieces – it often leads to self-indulgence and missed opportunities. But in Jamie Armitage’s case, based now on two experiences, I am prepared to make an exception. His heavily genre-based pieces work because he is writing his plays while fully-imagining how that genre might work on the stage. Armitage therefore needs to be heavily involved in the production, not just the writing of the play.
Well done Hampstead Theatre Downstairs – another top notch production. This one runs until 31 January 2026. Highly recommended by me and Janie if you get to book it in time.
I have known Rohan Candappa since we were eleven. I met him on my first day at Alleyn’s School, the secondary school we both attended 1973-1980. There he is in my first year class, 1973/74:
This half-century-old remembering is relevant to Rohan’s show, not least because most of the musical material into which Rohan is delving relates to the years that he and I were still in full-time education – including the university years following school.
Also to say, although Rohan and I lost touch after school, we have very much been in touch with one another again for best part of the last 20 years.
When Rohan “shouted out” to ancient pals, like me, that he would be doing a free gig as part of the Hornsey Town Hall Arts Centre grand opening day, how could I possibly say no? Even though Janie and I had tickets to the theatre that evening – it seemed to me that the hike from Hornsey to Hampstead Theatre (by car) would easily be achievable – thus we agreed to do both events.
We thought Rohan might need the support. We needn’t have worried on that score:
Nor need we have worried on behalf of Hornsey Town Hall Arts Centre generally – the place was heaving with visitors on its opening day:
Rohan was performing in the former Council Chamber, which was mighty grand. Janie and I had a theory that it would be good to get into the chamber early, as there would be good seats and not such good seats in such a place. We were right.
There’s me, one of the first to get in. Indeed, only the lady in the red hat – whom you might have got from central casting to play the role of the enthusiastically-right-on elderly lady – beat us to it. Apart from Rohan and the technical dude, obvs.
The lady from central casting danced magnificently to Free Nelson Mandela at the end of the show
Rohan started the piece with a bit of Hornsey Town Hall history from January 1937 – when Oswald Mosely held a public meeting there and protesters bravely made a scene.
Article from 26 Jan 1937 Daily Herald (London, London, England)
Rohan thought that four gutsy protesters had embedded themselves in the hall and taken on the fascist mob, but the embedded Daily Herald article [did you see what I did there?] suggests that there were six brave hecklers.
Anyway, Rohan took us on a tour de horizon of political songs from the 1970s and early 1980s, including Part Of the Union by The Strawbs, The Killing Of Georgie by Rod Stewart, Ghost Town by The Specials…you’ll get the idea if you are of our generation. Actually, you’ll get the idea – if not the nostalgia fix – however old you might be.
Most of Rohan’s choices were items I might have expected…although he omitted the two tracks that I had mentally put on my list of essentials before we arrived – we’ll return to those…
…but he did choose some items that were refreshingly and interestingly unexpected to me. For example, I wasn’t expecting All Gone Away by the Style Council, but was glad to hear it again in this context.
Nor was I expecting quite so much emphasis on anti-apartheid politics, despite the fact that my own political awakening was much-triggered by that cause. Rohan played a short excerpt from Coal Train by Hugh Masekela before playing the whole of Peter Gabriel’s Biko…
So which two “essential” tracks (in Ian Harris terms) did Rohan omit?…
I hear all you inquisitive readers cry.
Stand Down Margaret by The Beat and (We Don’t Need This) Fascist Groove Thang by Heaven 17.
I had told Rohan (and his wife Jan) that I would demand all my money back if Rohan didn’t use both of my “essential” political songs and he used neither of them. Honourably, Rohan has promised to refund both me and Janie every penny I had forked out for those event tickets…
…what do you mean, the event was free?
I sense that this performance piece, which was excellent and suitably moving in parts, will serve as a pilot for one of Rohan’s more honed pieces in the fullness of time. I might have to pay for tickets to see the honed version.
As it was, the after show period between 5:30 and us needing to head off towards the Hampstead theatre gave us time for a very pleasant wine bar drink with Rohan, Jan and another of our pals from school, Steve “Peanut” Butterworth.
As Steve discreetly put it to Janie:
…a lot of people had far worse nicknames than mine…
