The Rohan Thing, My Short Performance Piece As Part Of Rohan Candappa’s Inaugural Threadmash, Gladstone Arms, 5 February 2019

When Rohan was organsing this evening, he sent round a note asking us to “pencil in” this date.

Now I’m not one who is naturally disposed to doing what I am told…

…so I joined the small band of pencil-resisters and informed Rohan and others:

I have written “Rohan Thing?” in big letters in my diary, in ink. If my inflexibility in the pencil verses ink aspect deems me ineligible for the event, I quite understand.

Rohan responded:

Ian, it’s mainly your hat that I’m inviting. But, apparently, it can’t make it without you wandering about underneath. As for ‘Rohan Thing’ – that makes it sound like you’d met me at a party the night before, but can’t remember my surname. Despite all this, I still want you to come along.

Now I know what some of you are thinking. You’re thinking that I am buying time here, in a rather pitiful way, by quoting Rohan’s witty remarks while avoiding actually telling a story of my own.

Well, y…

…NO! Not at all. But that bant does form part of my story.

Let’s start with Rohan’s initial reference to my hat. Now it seems to me, that Rohan was, rather obviously, dropping a heavy hint that he wanted me to tell the story about the day I bought this hat.

And in many ways it is perfectly understandable that Rohan should try to coax me, kindly, gently, directorially towards telling that story. Because it is a darned good story. Within three minutes of buying this hat, from Lock & Co. in St James’s, in early June 2016, I was afforded the opportunity to accost Boris Johnson while he was on his bicycle and had to stop for me at a pelican crossing on The Mall. I waved my real tennis racket at Boris – an implement which, I have subsequently been told, has the unfortunate look of a sawn-off shotgun when in its archaic canvas bag. It wasn’t my intention to seem quite so threatening. Oh well.

Here are some of the items for you to peruse

Anyway, I let Boris know what a knob he was being by supporting Brexit, endangering our economy and potentially causing geopolitical mayhem. My noble gesture was temporarily cathartic for me but ultimately, it seems, futile for the nation and the world.

[Click here for the full story of that Boris Johnson day]

I could milk that anecdote into a full blown dramatic…or perhaps I should say tragi-comic recitation…

…if I wanted to…

…but as you know, I’m not one who is naturally disposed to doing what I am told…

…or even what I am kindly, gently, directorially coaxed towards doing…

…so I’m not going to talk about the June 2016 hat.

Instead, I’m going to talk about the trousers I bought four weeks earlier. These red trousers.

I made an emergency trip to the Retro Clothing Exchange shop
at 28 Pembridge Road in Notting Hill Gate, to try and find an appropriate pair of trousers for a 1960’s party. Actually it wasn’t for any old 1960’s party. It was for my wife, Janie’s party.

The likely source of the party trousers was the basement of that retro shop. Despite its change of purpose within the “Exchange Empire”, I recognised the space immediately as the old bargain basement of Record and Tape Exchange.

[On with Sisters Of Mercy]

I inhabited that basement a great deal in my youth. Initially and several times subsequently, those visits were with my Alleyn’s School friend, Paul Deacon.

It was probably the pull of Record and Tape Exchange and my resulting familiarity with Notting Hill Gate that drew me to move into that part of London ten years later, almost exactly 30 years ago, when I was ready to find my own place. A most fortuitous draw, as I have been profoundly happy living there.

Now as some of you might know, I indulge a retro-blogging habit, writing up my diaries and memorabilia in the form of a life blog going back as far as I can go. Ogblog, I call it.

So, when I got home with my bright red retro trousers, I did a diary trawl of my 1970s second hand record shop expeditions, in order to Ogblog those memories.

Paul Deacon and I first succeeded in visiting that shop in late April 1978. I bought several records which had a profound effect on me. Most memorably from that first batch, a CBS sampler album, The Rock Machine Turns You On, which had, amongst other treasures, Sisters of Mercy by Leonard Cohen. I remember the hairs on the back of my neck standing up when I first heard that track. I played it over and over again, to the irritation of my parents who wondered why I was hell bent on playing “such dirgy stuff”.

[Click here for the story of that first visit]

But the dusty and musty smell of the 28 Pembridge Road basement actually reminded me most about a visit some three months later, during the school holidays, not with Paul, but with a young female known as Fuzz.

[Off with Sisters Of Mercy – On with Me & Mrs Jones]

You might recall that Rohan thought the term “Rohan Thing” appropriate for someone you met at a party whose second name had evaded you. Of course, back in 1978, when we were 15/16 years old, it was not uncommon to get rather friendly with someone at a party without ever finding out their second name.

But I must confess that Fuzz, with whom I’d had a gentle squeeze at Anil & Anita Biltoo’s party a couple of weeks before she and I made that July 1978 Pembridge Road visit, has a unique place in my junior romantic canon. Because I don’t think I even found out Fuzz’s real first name, let alone her second name.

How we arranged that “date” at Pembridge Road is a bit of a mystery now…but nowhere near as much of a mystery as her name. “Everyone calls me Fuzz”, is, I think, as far as I got, name-wise.

But in other ways, Fuzz and I got a little bit further. I was on the lowest foothills of learning about romantic entwinement that summer, but I had discovered tonsil hockey a few months earlier and was quite keen to practice that sport when the chance presented itself.

During one of the quarter breaks in our tonsil hockey match at Anil and Anita’s party, I inadvertently overheard Fuzz excitedly telling her pals, that…

…I blush to report this…

…words to the effect…

…I was the best tonsil hockey player she had ever encountered.

[Off with Me And Mrs Jones]

Now please bear in mind, folks, I went to the sort of school where the only feedback you got from games masters, even if you were one of the best sporting boys the school had seen in years, was a phrase such as, “you’re uncoachable”, delivered with a clip around the ear…

…and I was far from being one of the best sporting boys the school had seen in years…

…I was one of those boys who would try hard at sport, but whose abundant enthusiasm could not compensate for my dismal shortages of athleticism and talent.

Not that my school sporting career was completely devoid of success. Oh no. Three years earlier I had, famously, defeated the mighty John Eltham – who was certainly one of the more sporty boys – in the fives quarter finals of 1975. I even have a “winning quarter-finalist” trophy emblazoning my drinks cabinet, a trophy mysteriously uncovered by a certain Rohan Candappa, as evidence of that victory.

(Click here for the story of that famous victory)

But my point is, I was not used to hearing encouraging sporting words at all and I had, until that juncture, the low confidence of a novice in the matter of tonsil hockey. My previous experience at that sport (otherwise known as French kissing) could, in July 1978, have been counted on the fingers of one hand. Possibly even the finger of one finger. But I was hearing it on good authority that I was already up there with the very best exponents of the sport globally. Wow.

Of course, it occurs to me now that Fuzz’s prior experience of tonsil hockey might have been as limited as mine, or even less so, making “best ever” a somewhat meaningless comparative term. Oh well.

What Fuzz might have thought of my sartorial talent back then is lost in the mists of time, but it is very unlikely to have been good news. Baggy flared jeans and a yellow PVC waterproof garment, which my youth club friends teasingly described as “Ian’s Banana Jacket”. Little did those folks know that I was, in fact, a proto leader of the yet-to-be-formed gilets jaunes movement. The non-violent, social justice, French chapter. Not the Neo-Nazi English chapter that likes to describe centrist Tories as Nazis. But I digress.

Anyway, back to my date, on a hot day in late July, with Fuzz, in the bargain basement of the Record & Tape Exchange shop where, years later, I bought these red trousers. I suppose I became engrossed in my gramophone record searches and it seems that Fuzz became overwhelmed by the mustiness and dustiness of that Notting Hill basement. Fuzz fainted, banged her head while collapsing and needed to be revived by worried staff in the shop.

But apart from that, young Mr Harris, how was your hot date?

Reflecting on this ill-fated first (and perhaps unsurprisingly, last) date with Fuzz, I realise that it could have been a truly disastrous incident. Had Fuzz lost consciousness and needed attention from the emergency services, I might have had some explaining to do to the other type of fuzz when trying to assist them in identifying the young woman and notifying her next of kin. I don’t think the answers “Fuzz” or “Thing Thing” would have gone down terribly well with the fuzz.

Roll the clock forward again to May 2016, the day I bought these retro red trousers and a month before I accosted Boris Johnson while wearing this hat…

…I wrote up those 1978 Record and Tape Exchange memories on Ogblog and corresponded with Paul Deacon over the next couple of days, tidying up and expanding some of the text.

Paul emigrated to Canada some years ago now, where he now pursues his career as a voice-over actor, music archivist and part-time DJ.

As an aside to our e-reminiscing, Paul asked me if Janie and I had listened to his weekly broadcast on The Grand At 101 lately, which is available on-line. I had to admit we hadn’t. The show is on Saturday afternoons in Ontario, therefore Saturday evening in the UK. Janie and I are almost always out on a Saturday evening.

But, as luck would have it, our Saturday evening plans that weekend had, for practical reasons, been switched to Sunday lunch. So I told Paul we’d tune in. A few other old school friends also tuned in that evening and we had some fun with Paul, messaging in obscure requests for shout-outs and spins.

Paul then messaged us to say that John Eltham (yes, he of the historic fives quarter final in 1975) would be joining Paul at the studio “any minute”. I was aware that John Eltham was due to visit Paul, but I hadn’t twigged that the visit was so imminent, let alone that day. Then another message from Paul:

John’s here now! He’s just told me about the Rohan Thing…

Now, at this juncture I probably should explain that “The Rohan Thing” back in 2016 was not the same “Rohan Thing” as The Rohan Thing we are all attending tonight. “The Rohan Thing” that John Eltham and Paul Deacon were talking about was the monologue, “How I Said ‘F*** You’ To The Company When They Tried to Make Me Redundant”, which Rohan had piloted at my company’s office earlier that year and which he was preparing to take to Edinburgh as his first Edinburgh Fringe show.

Thus we learn that there is more than one Rohan Thing. Indeed, there are many Rohan Things.

And as for my red trousers, you must be wondering whether they worked with my 1960s party get up?

Well…

[Remove hat and jumper to reveal bandanna, party shirt, CND medallion and don the CND whacky specs]

…the red trousers were a groovy happening thing amongst many groovy happening things at that party, man. Peace and love.

Footnote: At the end of the evening, Rohan ceremonially handed out a lengthy thread to all who had performed, to symbolise the thread of story-telling that leads from Chaucer through Shakespeare and Dickens to our evening and evenings beyond.

Ben Clayson captured that moment and has kindly consented to me publishing a Photoshopped version of his photo here – (not that Ben knows it at this actual moment, but if the photo is still here when you look, then he probably has actually consented):

“Auntie” Janet Davis: A Middlesex Till We Die (MTWD) Tribute

I first came across Janet Davis on the Middlesex Till We Die (MTWD) website around 2004, when I started reading and then contributing to the site.

In those days I would sometimes comment on a group of people I would describe as “The Allen Stand Gossips” – a devoted collection of Middlesex CCC fans who mostly sat in that stand and nearly always had some gossip to impart about the players and/or the club. I soon learnt who Janet Davis was amongst that loosely-associated group.

As I became more heavily involved in the MTWD site, I ascertained that Janet was one of the first Middlesex fans to use MTWD regularly. I also learnt that Janet’s relationship with the site administrators – back then David Slater, Jez Horne and Barmy Kev – was less than harmonious at times. I soon came to understand why.

Janet’s devotion to the club could sometimes bubble over into seemingly one-sided comments. For example, Middlesex would “recruit” players from other counties, while other counties would “poach” our players. Janet was keen to find out the gossip and would quiz players and their loved ones quite relentlessly. Then sometimes she would state on the MTWD board that she knew something about a player but “couldn’t say” what it was. Sometimes she would report a false rumour – no doubt in good faith – but the result might be problematic for the site administrators and the site.

When I became an MTWD administrator and took on most of the editorial side, at the start of the 2006 season, I suggested that we widen the base of people to provide editorial material. I suggested Janet as one of the people who could and should contribute that way. Thus Janet became a major contributor of match reports for a few years.

In fact, my research has uncovered that Janet had previously contributed a piece of winter editorial – in the winter of 2002/2003 – very early in the days of the MTWD site. Before my time. Here is a link to that piece. It is very insightful for this tribute article, as it has Janet saying, in her own words, how her lifetime of Middlesex fandom started and progressed. Here is the intro to that piece, which was published in early April 2003:

I have been a cricket fan since my school days (I will not tell you when as that will give my age away). In 1975 whilst watching cricket on tv, Middlesex got to two one day finals and lost. One of the commentators said what a good side they were and that they would challenge for a trophy in 1976. 1976 turned out to be the year of the drought, with no rain during the major part of the cricket season. I work as a Pharmacist, so I worked as a locum, taking time off every so often to go to various matches.

That was the year that I kept a scrap book, which has been given to Vinny [Codrington – former Chief Executive] for Middlesex archives.

I remember hot sunny days at Lords and making a new set of friends. I went to many of the away matches, some by train, some by car and some by coach. I will try and say a bit on the matches that I remember…
Here is a link to that piece again – this time a scrape to my own site in case anything ever happens to Sportnetwork

In the period that Janet regularly reported matches for MTWD, between 2006 and 2009, she provided a great many match reports and photographs. As the MTWD team had advised me, Janet wasn’t the easiest contributor on our books.

During the season, Janet would write to me and send me stuff most days – sometimes several times a day. Janet had latched on to me for this element of her life, although she didn’t know my true identity until 2008. My e-mail trawl for this tribute piece needed to be seen to be believed – I had forgotten how frequent the correspondence had been. Janet took lots of photos, but always landscape, even if taking a portrait.

Here is an example Janet sent me in July 2006, together with the full text of the accompanying e-mail, all of which might make Middlesex’s current captain (Dawid Malan, for ’tis he), blush:

” This is our new signing if anyone is interested. He’d compete with Nick Compton in the ‘pretty boy’ stakes “

Yes, Janet certainly had her favourites. Chad Keegan, I recall in particular. She also had a soft spot for Chris Wright – I remember Janet was devastated when Chris left Middlesex (or should I say, in Janet style, “was poached by Essex”?).

Janet’s match reports were often brimming with details about her life…details of her journey, her lousy neighbours, every aspect of the lunch she had brought with her, the posse of Allen Stand gossips who attended that day. Astonishingly, MTWD match report readers learnt more about Janet’s pussy (indeed several cats over the years) than the UK public ever learnt about Mrs Slocombe’s pussy, Tiddles, in Are You being Served.

Soon after Janet started reporting matches, I coined the byline “Auntie Janet” for her, rather than Janet Davis, although some pieces continued to go up under the more conventional byline. I thought “Auntie Janet” was appropriate for her and it seemed to stick.

One particular report of Auntie Janet’s from 2009, linked below, made me feel especially sad when skimming for this tribute piece. It is quintessentially Auntie Janet, with much talk about her knitting circle. In cricketing terms, it is primarily about a Phil Hughes performance for Middlesex in early 2009. The thought that both of those protagonists, Janet and Phil, are sadly/tragically no longer with us, brought quite a lump to my throat – click here for that 2009 piece…

…or here for a scrape of the same piece on Ogblog.

Sadly, Janet became beset with health problems from 2010 onwards, so her visits to Lord’s became a rarity and her reporting ceased. I had in any case retired from all formats of MTWD by that time.

I am told that Janet continued to follow Middlesex avidly despite her ill health, so she must have been thrilled when we won the County Championship in such exciting circumstances in 2016. Goodness knows what Janet’s medical team must have needed to do at the climax of that epic season!

I have no photographs of Janet as an adult; she photographed players but didn’t send in pictures with her own image. Except for one winter, when we ran a baby photo competition. For some reason, Janet sent me two pictures; one of her as a baby (as requested) and the other from 1953 when she was nine years old. I have used the latter as the main photo for this feature. It’s all I have but also I think it is appropriate. Janet retained her childlike qualities throughout her life. Her manner could be frustrating for others at times, but Janet’s simple, unworldly demeanour was genuine and her devotion to Middlesex County Cricket Club unconditional.

Janet was one of the most dedicated fans of Middlesex County Cricket Club for many decades. She was, in every way, Middlesex Till She Died. Janet Davis 1944 to 2019; rest in peace.

The above piece was published on MTWD on 20 January 2019 – here.

My Good Friend by David Wellbrook, Starting My New Year With A Rejection, An Appeal And A Kurt Denial, 1 January 2019

Actually I ended 2018 reading the following short Kindle book by my old Alleyn’s school buddy, David Wellbrook.

I would like to recommend David’s book, My Good Friend, highly to anyone who cares to pay attention to my opinion.

I say, “I would like to”, rather than “I have recommended”, because Amazon, in their (absence of) wisdom, chose to reject the following review, which I submitted this morning:

An Exceptionally Good “Merry Pranks” Chapbook

This is a chapbook in the Renaissance sense of the word – i.e. a short, inexpensive booklet or short book. As it happens, it is also a “chap book” in the more modern sense, as it is a comedic set of anecdotes about the scrapes two young chaps – inseparable friends, who manage to get each other into (and sometimes out of) trouble.
Imagine a version of “Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks” with two central practical joker characters and you are starting to get the picture.

The adventures of this pair of twenty-somethings, David Wellbrook and his “Good Friend”, in the 1980s, mostly occurred either when they went on holiday together or when they were chasing opportunities to make a quick buck and/or score with young women.
The identity of My Good Friend appears to be a closely guarded secret. Some sources suggest that he is now a knight of the realm. Other sources suggest that he is an ordained minister of the Church. It is also rumoured that he was transported to the antipodes before the end of the 1980s, where he remains at large. On my reading of this laugh-out-loud short book, it is quite possible that “My Good Friend” today is all of those things and more besides.

More than just funny, the book is ultimately warm and charming. Read it and you’ll no doubt wish that you had spent your school days growing up with these clowns. I know I did.

Within about one minute of my submission, I received the following e-mail rejection:

Thank you for submitting a customer review on Amazon. After carefully reviewing your submission, your review could not be posted to the website. While we appreciate your time and comments, reviews must adhere to the following guidelines:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/review-guidelines

I felt quite put out by that rejection, for several reasons:

It was nigh-on impossible for someone to have really read, by which I mean read, thought about and cognitively digested, the content of my review in the short interval between my posting and the rejection notice;
I have submitted several Amazon reviews in the past and never been rejected before;
I carefully read the review guidelines and could not work out which element of the guidelines I was deemed to have breached;
I did feel that the one review that Amazon has published so far for this book, by Derin, was, in my opinion, while amusing and a nice bit of fun amongst old friends, in breach of several of the guidelines…unlike mine. Here is a scrape of Derin’s review which might well bite the Amazonian dust if by chance Amazon wonks start crawling all over this incident:

So, I decided to appeal to Amazon customer service in order to have the injustice reversed. I wrote as follows:

I am horrified that you have rejected my thoughtful and well-crafted review for this book – see below. The review was rejected within seconds, so I do not believe that someone gave it due consideration at all, whereas, I’m sure you can tell, the review is well-written and honest.

Frankly, if you do not reconsider and choose instead to publish the review I shall never review anything on Amazon again.
Here is the reference number that came with the rude e-mail from you – thereafter the content I sent: Reference A1F83G8C2ARO7P-RKQCVM2C9B62D.

A couple of hours later I received the following Kurt reply:

Hello Mr Ian L Harris,
This is Kurt from Amazon Customer Care.
I apologise if your feel that your review of “My Good Friend” by David Wellbrook has been rejected.
Thank you for taking the time to provide not only a well thought out but also a heartfelt review of one of our Kindle Titles.

We do not wish to make you feel rejected and sincerely how that you continue to provide both Amazon and Amazon Customers with more of your book reviews.
It always helps customers like yourself to find the right title for themselves and helps Amazon find the right title types to provide to loyal customers like you.
We hope you continue your Kindle reading and heartfelt review.
If you require any other assistance, we can be reached 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You can contact us by following the link below:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/help/customer/contact-us
Thank you for taking time to contact Amazon.
Your feedback is helping us build Earth’s Most Customer-Centric Company.
Warmest regards,
Kurt C
Amazon.co.uk

So that’s it then. My appeal has been denied. The use of English in the denial note is so awful, it cannot even be an entirely algorithmic decision (I figure the original rejection decision might well have been).

So please allow me, in my own space, to unpick that travesty of an e-mail reply from customer services.

…I apologise if your feel that your review of “My Good Friend” by David Wellbrook has been rejected…
I don’t FEEL that it has been rejected; it HAS been rejected.

…We do not wish to make you feel rejected and sincerely how that you continue to provide both Amazon and Amazon Customers with more of your book reviews…
I think you mean “hope” not “how”, but there is no point hoping, Kurt. When I said, “if you do not reconsider and choose instead to publish the review I shall never review anything on Amazon again“, I meant it.

…It always helps customers like yourself to find the right title for themselves and helps Amazon find the right title types to provide to loyal customers like you...
I see. So you want me to write reviews, which you will publish or reject at your algorithmic whim, so that you can sell me and other people more stuff. Well, I think I told you before that you have blown that deal with me and it should come as no surprise that the deal is still blown. Now with brass knobs on

… Your feedback is helping us build Earth’s Most Customer-Centric Company…
I am hoping against hope that Amazon’s corporate behaviour today is not the Earth’s most customer centric stuff.

…Warmest regards,
Kurt C …
Well, I guess it was a pun to describe the denial note as Kurt, as I suppose there is an attempt at courtesy, but to milk a similar pun, it is an “empty Kurt C” as far as I am concerned.

So, my dear friends, there it is, my first rejection of 2019 and it wasn’t even past noon on the 1st of January.

I tried to help David Wellbrook in his quest to storm the world of electronic publishing, but I failed to get past the first hurdle.

In similar circumstances, David’s “Good Friend”, The Right Reverend Sir Nigel Godfrey, would, by now, no doubt, not only have had his review published but also been given a year’s free subscription to Amazon Ultra Platinum Prime for his trouble…

…oh darn, I think I’ve just blown the Good Friend’s cover.

Anyway, it is possible that more potential but undecided readers will land here than on that crummy Amazon Review area. So if you are one of those potential readers…

…here’s another link through which you can procure David’s book:

Ode To Eurosceptics – 2018 Version, Lyric For Actor’s Workshop or NewsRevue or Whoever, 14 October 2018

I haven’t written a topical lyric for years, but was prompted to update one of my old lyrics when I visited The Actor’s Workshop in Halifax a couple of weeks ago…

A Visit To Halifax To See A Revival Of Casablanca The Musical & The Ward Family, 26 September 2018

…and discovered that they still have a New Year’s Revels revue there each year and even still use some of my old lyrics. Chatting with Luke, who now stewards that show, we agreed how difficult it is to parody Brexit and some of the “beyond parody” events of the news in the last couple of years. I had a similar chat with Emma from NewsRevue when I saw her a few days later, who agreed.

Anyway, one of my old NewsRevue songs, Ode To Eurosceptics from 1996, popped into my head last night and then onto my screen…

Ode To Eurosceptics, Topical Lyric, 18 June 1996

…and I thought it might still work if updated/rewritten for the modern era. Here goes:

♬ ODE TO EUROSCEPTICS – 2018 VERSION (To the Tune of “Ode To Joy”) ♬

CHORUS – MP’s

ALL: At Westminster in the commons,
Craving for the cabinet;
Wasting power with Theresa,
Seen our chance of grabbing it.
BLOKES: Gove and Moggster,
GIRL 1: (shouting) I’M ARLENE FOSTER,
GIRL 2: (pointing at Arlene) Paisley without the testicles;
ALL: We shall beef all through next summer,
We’re the Euroscepticals.

ALL: Take a punt on,
Absurd Boris Johnson;
He’s like a dog that has two dicks;
(We’ll) bore you shitless ’til next Christmas,
We’re the Euroscepticists.

Yup – still works as a comedic quickie I think. It’s the reality of the politics that has become far less funny in the past 20+ years.

I’m happy for anyone to use the above lyric royalty free with a request for (but not insistence upon) attribution.

Below is a vid with the Ode To Joy being sung, including the lyrics and an English translation on the screen:

Casablanca the Musical, Actor’s Workshop Halifax, Philip Ralph’s Programme Note: “Dissent – Who Do You Choose To Be?”, 27 September 2018

The morning after I saw the Actor’s Workshop revival of Casablanca the Musical…

A Visit To Halifax To See A Revival Of Casablanca The Musical & The Ward Family, 26 September 2018

…I read the programme and was especially taken by Philip Ralph’s essay of dissent. It seemed so relevant to our troubled times. So much so that I wanted to provide space for those thoughts as a guest piece on Ogblog, if Philip was willing.

Philip indeed kindly sent me the notes with permission to present them here (thank you, Philip), together with the following message:

Mike Ward forwarded your request to use my essay from the programme for Casablanca in your blog. I’m happy to oblige. It’s attached.

I should say, for full disclosure, that the phrase ‘Who Do We Choose to Be?’ and the ideas explored in the piece are not my own but are lovingly stolen from my teacher, Margaret Wheatley, whose work, ideas and teachings I wholeheartedly recommend to you. The moment in the film seemed an entirely apposite example of what she explores and describes in her work.

https://margaretwheatley.com/books-products/books/who-do-we-choose-to-be/

So here is a link to Philip Ralph’s essay.

The following embedded YouTube is the short section of the film Casablanca to which Philip refers in his essay. It is one of the more memorable scenes from the film and I took great pleasure in revisiting it, while also having my thoughts well and truly provoked by Philip’s excellent essay:

A Visit To Halifax To See A Revival Of Casablanca The Musical & The Ward Family, 26 September 2018

Your lyrics live on, Ian; we are reviving Casablanca The Musical at The Workshop in the last week of September…

Out of the blue, I received a letter from Mike Ward in early September to the above effect. As it happened, I had a couple of clear days, the Wednesday and Thursday of that week.

I felt very much motivated to see a revival of that show; I had written the lyrics for several songs. Also, to all intents and purposes, that show brought the house down at the old Actor’s Workshop in Halifax; the place was tragically razed a few weeks after Casablanca The Musical’s first production in 2001:

Casablanca The Musical by Magnolia Thunderpussy, Actor’s Workshop, 18 September 2001

It had been many years since my last visit to The Workshop in Halifax; I think my previous visit was soon after the new place opened, phoenix-like from the ashes of the old place – perhaps 2004.

Anyway, I picked up the phone and called Mike, only to learn that speaking on the telephone doesn’t work very well for Mike any more:

I’m wirtually deaf phonewise, but I think you said you would like to see the wevival of Casabwanca on the Wednesday. Wonderful.

I then remembered why the Rick character is styled, in Mike’s book for Casablanca The Musical, as Wick. I also remembered some only marginally successful attempts at familiarising Mike with the use of e-mail back in the day.

Old style correspondence by post followed, mixed with some e-mails via Richard Kemp, to make the arrangements for my visit.

It was a similar itinerary, I think, to my 2001 visit for the same show, except this time I took an AirBnB apartment in town rather than a night in the Imperial Crown.

I got to the Workshop around 16:00. Mike and Richard (especially the former) looked after me and gave me a guided tour. Whereas on my previous visit the new place looked spanking new but devoid of all the props and costumes that had been lovingly accumulated at the old place…

…now, the new place reminded me of the old place; chock-a-block with stuff that might come in handy for some production or another. Cast-offs from the RSC and some smaller regional theatre companies. All sorts. Ever a theatrical magpie, is Mike Ward.

Then to the house, where Lottie had prepared a most delicious meal of fish soup. Their daughter, Olivia, was there and would join us this evening for the show. I hadn’t seen Olivia since the early days of meeting Mike, through son Adam who briefly wrote for NewsRevue, in the mid 1990s. It was lovely to see Olivia again; of course it was lovely to see all of them again.

Lottie spoke very highly of the revival production, which she had seen when it opened, the night before. In fact, she talked it up so much I think she and Mike were a bit concerned that we might be disappointed after such a build up; but they needn’t have worried.

Mike departed ahead of me and Olivia, enabling us and Lottie to chat, eat and drink some more, before Olivia and I headed off to The Workshop.

I thought the show really was excellent. Better than I remembered it from the first time – perhaps because Mike had edited the book a little – perhaps other elements of the production were just slicker and tighter this time.

For sure, I thought the big numbers, such as La Cage Au Wick’s…

The cast performing La Cage Au Wick’s – starting the second half of the show suitably silly

…and the Ouagadougou Choo Choo…

Ouagadougou Choo Choo, Casablanca the Musical, Actor’s Workshop Halifax, 27 July 2001

…worked especially well this time around, with more energy and poise, together with a musicality beyond my rememberings from 2001.

I was genuinely delighted and very impressed. Mike invited me to congratulate the cast backstage, which I gladly did. Several members of cast and crew stuck around to chat for quite some time after the show.

Lots of fun.

The morning after, I read the programme and was much taken with the “dissenting programme note” by Philip Ralph, which I commend to you:

Casablanca the Musical, Actor’s Workshop Halifax, Philip Ralph’s Programme Note: “Dissent – Who Do You Choose To Be?”, 27 September 2018

Class Of ’92 Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Café Rouge Holborn, 5 October 2017

NewsRevue’s 2004 Guinness World Record for being the World’s Longest Running Live Comedy Show – Gerry Goddin far left, Barry Grossman back left, a wide-eyed me front right

Partly inspired by my chance encounter 18 months ago (and subsequent re-encounters) with Chris Stanton at the real tennis court at Lord’s…

…partly inspired by the fact that many of us who gather for these Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinners have been hanging around NewsRevue now for 25 years…

…John Random decided to theme this get together around the notion “Class of ’92”.

I didn’t realise that John had actually persuaded Chris Stanton to come along this time, which was a very pleasant surprise. Chris brought a couple of ringbinder files with scripts from his 1992 runs, including the late Spring run, directed by John Random, in which I (or rather, my material) made its NewsRevue debut:

Seeing those files, it made me realise what a challenging job it must be for performers to do NewsRevue. The sheer volume of scripts, the mixture of sketches and songs, the changes to the show every week…

…Chris showed me one running order, for example, in which there was an unbroken sequence of fourteen or fifteen pieces in which he appeared.

John Random brought along a photo album which had lots of photos of NewsRevue types…even one of me and Janie from our very early days together…most people in the room were represented by at least one photo.

Mark Keagan was there, as was Barry Grossman, Nick R Thomas, Colin Stutt and Gerry Goddin, the latter of whom produced a particularly fiendish version of his “quiz” game and tortured us with it at the end of the evening.

Prior to this evening, when chatting at Lord’s, Chris Stanton had been threatening to have a bonfire of his old scripts. Part of my purpose was to help John Random to rescue this treasure trove for posterity. But by the end of this evening, Chris explained that he did not want to part with his scripts and had no intention of destroying them.

On the way home, my song “Coppers are Dressed as Hippies” popped into my head, as did the notion that I too have a ringbinder file at home with correspondence and one or two old running orders and programmes.

In the morning, I copied/wrote up “coppers” (click link here or above) and found a running order, programme and writers’ newsletter from Paula Tappenden’s summer run; the run that followed the John Random/Chris Stanton one.

In some ways, I thought, I had blooped by not bringing those artefacts to the evening. But in other ways, it seems more fitting that I use Ogblog as a medium, following up on the Class of ’92 evening, to circulate copies of my 1992 artefacts, shown below:

the programme for that Paula Tappenden run (late June through August 1992);
the running order from week four (late July 1992);
John Random’s unusually short writers’ newsletter w/e 31 July 1992…who was your visitor from Idaho, John? Do tell.

Postscript. In response to my request for details on the mystery visitor from Idaho, I received the following beautifully-crafted missive from John Random a week or so later:

…the friend from Idaho was my former flatmate Janet.

One of my biggest regrets in life is that I didn’t spend the whole of 1986 simply writing down everything she ever said. Here was comedy gold, narrative gold right under my nose and I didn’t recognize it for what it was.

Without ever trying to be funny, without even KNOWING she was being funny, Janet contrived to be one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. This was chiefly because everyone she’d ever known was either barking mad or the victim of some cruel yet ludicrous twist of Fate.

I recall she had a pioneer ancestor who was run over by the very train that brought his family out West to join him. Apparently, he had started the celebrations a little too early and was a little too merry by the time the train pulled in.

Not that this should be taken as meaning she was catty or scabrous. On the contrary, she was a big motherly woman of the sort you might get if you crossed Jenni Murray with Claire Rayner.

Sadly, Janet’s not much of a writer, so I have very few letters of hers, and she seldom even e-mails. However, she recently broke a seven-year silence indicating that she might be coming over in a week or two. I do hope so.

In my grateful reply to John, I described Janet’s interruption to his newsletter writing that week as John’s “person from Porlock” moment.

My own offerings from that Paula Tappenden Week Four are all now up on Ogblog, btw, all clickable below:

If anyone wants a better quality copy of the artefacts, just message me and they can be whizzing your way in next to no time.

Ultimate Love and Happy Tories, Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Café Rouge Holborn, 3 March 2017

NewsRevue’s 2004 Guinness World Record for being the World’s Longest Running Live Comedy Show – Gerry Goddin far left, Barry Grossman back left, a wide-eyed me front right

NewsRevue goes back all the way to 1979. When the show turned 25, in 2004, it was awarded the Guinness World Record for being the World’s Longest Running Live Comedy Show. I was there. I’d been there since 1992. This year my involvement with the show turns 25.

Those of us who wrote for the show in the 1990s still gather a few times a year for Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinners.

Earlier this week, coincidentally, I played real tennis with Chris Stanton (another NewsRevue alum, in his case a performer) at Lord’s. Chris was reminiscing with me about the show, not least because he was rummaging through his old files and found many complete runs of scripts from “our era”, which he was planning to shred. I think John Random might rescue them for posterity.

Chris then gave me a pretty-much word perfect rendering of Brian Jordan’s wonderful Arthur Scargill song, to the tune of My Guy. As John Random later reminisced:

He may not be to everyone’s liking/But as a union leader, he’s striking.

Hearing about Brian Jordan reminded me of my first big hit; The Ultimate Love Song, which Brian made his own for a while and took to Edinburgh (my material’s debut there) in his show “Whoops Vicar Is That Your Dick?” I am so proud to have had my Edinburgh debut in a show with that name.

After seeing Chris, I looked at my file and realised that The Ultimate Love Song turns 25 this week; I copyrighted it 29 February 1992…so perhaps it turns six-and-a-quarter. Anyway, it seemed right to mention it at the Ivan Shakespeare and I was badgered into giving a quick rendering, as much as I could remember.

I have now upped The Ultimate Love Song in its entirety – together with the tale of its early use – here’s the link again.

Here is a link to Ben Murphy’s rendering of The Ultimate Love Song from 1993.

Mark Keagan was at the Ivan Shakespeare dinner; he’s one of the more regular attendees. He mentioned that his father-in-law and former home secretary, David Waddington, sadly passed away last week. Which reminded me that I did once write a song with a verse about Waddington; again nearly 25 years ago. We all (Mark included) agreed that the song might come in handy for him over the coming weeks…well you never know…so I have upped that one too. Happy Tories it is called – also about Maggie Thatcher and Chris Patten – click here.

Below is a picture of John Random and Mark Keagan from the previous Ivan Shakespeare dinner.

Mark was awarded the 2016 trophy, but should he have been? Rumour has it that John might have been handed the wrong envelope…

Gerry Goddin and John both produced quizzes. Gerry’s was infernal as usual; I did well at first but tailed off at the end, letting Barry Grossman take the honours at the line. John’s was suitably silly and superficial for my mood – a small collection of “shock and awe” pun headlines to unfathom. Perhaps naturally, I won that quiz.

As always it was good to see the gang – a slightly depleted gathering this time but at least when that happens you get a chance to have a proper chat with everyone.

How The EVA Air Girl Transformed Me Into Kung Fu Pandaman, 22 February 2017

Don’t be fooled by this benign-looking in-flight scene…

We flew EVA Air (a Taiwanese airline) to and from Thailand on this occasion, on an excellent business class deal. Janie and I were both hugely impressed by the quality and professionalism throughout the journey.

But on the flight home from Bangkok to Heathrow, the strangest thing happened; I was transformed into Kung Fu Pandaman.

It seemed a benign enough flight and interaction at first. Lillian, the air stewardess in the picture above, handed me, amongst other things, a pair of pyjamas for the flight. I have not worn pyjamas since escaping the clutches of my parents’ mores around 1980, so I attempted to return the pyjamas to Lillian.

On the outbound journey, my polite, “no thank you” to the air hostess was simply accepted. But when I tried similarly on the return journey with Lillian, she abruptly said, “you must have them,” and insisted that I retain the pyjamas.

Then, when clearing up after dinner, she again challenged my attempted rejection of the pyjamas. “Our pyjamas are wonderful. You will love them. In fact, you must try wearing them.” Janie captured this exchange in the picture below; it could be argued that Lillian’s entreaty came with menaces.

“I insist that you will like these pyjamas”

I asked Janie what she thought the protocol or etiquette was for donning aircraft pyjamas. Janie’s view was that these business class seats were so individual and private that I could change into the pyjamas discreetly in situ, but that if I felt self-conscious about doing that I could change in the loo.

Self-conscious – moi? Change in the loo – moi? No way and not on your nelly, respectively.

As I donned the unfamiliar garb, I felt a strange transformation coming over me. Was it my unfamiliarity with nightwear? Was it the glass of port I’d had with my cheese? Or was it a more profound transformation than that…

…suddenly I felt that I had supreme martial arts skills. Only my deep-seated good manners and concern for other travellers prevented me from releasing a bestial roar…

I rose to my feet and Janie gasped, in awe and wonderment, “oh my! It’s Kung Fu Pandaman”.

“Wham bam, thank you ma’m”, I replied; an ejaculation quite out of character for me, but not, it seems, for someone who is transforming into Kung Fu Pandaman.

Some serious moves – chiropractors and masseuses should look away now

I imagined that my superhero transformation was to some purpose; perhaps the plane was about to be hijacked or the pilots were all about to fall sick; something of that kind, requiring a superhero to restore calm and safety for all passengers.

But strangely, no superhero requirement was forthcoming. Which was a bit of an anticlimax.

“On second thoughts”, said Janie, “perhaps you look more like Tai Chi Pyjamaman”.

“Z/Yenshin!” I said, as I started to transform back to the reality that awaits when we land.

Tragically, when we got off the plane, I “forgot” to take my pyjamas with me, just as Janie “forgot” to take her pair too. Stewardess Lillian is no doubt still stewing over the pyjama rejection.

A Ponder On Dystopian Comedy Songs, 17 November 2016

Ahead of seeing Brexit The Musical and NewsRevue today – click here for my write up of those – I had arranged to meet neighbour, writer and old NewsRevue pal Jasmine Birtles on my way back from the gym, to hand over some of our corporate gimcrack as giveaways for some charity do of hers.

On the way to the gym, the superb Randy Newman song “Political Science” popped into my head and wouldn’t leave.

Here and below is a link to a YouTube vid of Randy Newman performing the song – the lyrics are there too.

I have subsequently worked out how to play this song on my baritone ukulele. It seems to me that the song summarises Donald Trump’s foreign policy as we currently understand it in November 2016.

I mentioned this song to Jasmine as we walked around the block together. She said she vaguely remembered the Randy Newman song but wasn’t there a Tom Lehrer one with a similarly dystopian/armageddon quality.

The Lehrer one didn’t pop into my head immediately, but while walking to the Canal Café that evening it did pop into my head. So Long Mom (A Song For World War III). I remembered not only the Tom Lehrer song itself but my 1993 parody of the same – all linked and shown if you click here.

Now I can’t get either tune out of my head. Happy days.

On a slightly less dystopian note, I also now recall that I used a Randy Newman song, Simon Smith and His Amazing Dancing Bear, to parody Tony Blair in NewsRevue surprisingly early in his political career – April 1993 – here is a link through to my materials on that.

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