Janie and I don’t remember enough about this evening.
I had played bridge at Andrea’s place with the gang (probably Daniel and Maz back then) the night before.
Janie had taken patients on the Saturday morning, as she did in those days.
I know it was the first time I met Anthea. I know we went out to Bethnal Green – down Anthea’s way. I wrote down Anthea’s address for the purpose.
We went to an ethnic restaurant quite near to Anthea’s place in Bethnal Green.
Janie and I both think there were other people there that evening; not just we three, but for the life of us we cannot figure it out. Anthea just might.
We ended up back at Janie’s place that night; that much Janie and I both certainly remember.
We’re not sure how long I stayed, but I do have an electronic record of lyrics written onthe Sunday time stamped bbetween 17:00 and 18:00. So I’ll guess I stayed for some brunch.
This is not one of my greatest lyrics but it is 25 years old on the day I am writing this Ogblog piece.
I wrote the lyric in response to some banking cartel activity (allegedly) long since forgotten, upping bank charges for everyone.
Actually, rereading mine yesterday reminded me of one of Ivan Shakespeare’s great lyrics, written not long after. The opening line of Ivan’s piece:
Sometimes it’s hard to be a new man…
…building to the cracking initial chorus line/title…
Stand by your flan…
Mine seems pale in comparison, but here it is:
STAND BY YOUR BANK
(To the Tune of “Stand by Your Man”)
VERSES – PAUPER
(Perhaps the chorus, offstage during the verses, could harmonise by making “slide guitar wowing sounds” during the verses. The pauper should probably be “music hall cockney”)
So the invitation to Kim’s the following Friday must have come hot on the heels of a positive report from Janie on the Street of Crocodiles date…
…or at least not a negative report.
Intriguingly, there is also a note in Janie’s diary that she had a new bed delivered on Tuesday 1 September. Janie claims that the timing of the bed purchase must be pure coincidence. I am tempted to believe her and I am sure that all you sweet Ogblog readers are similarly convinced by the “must be” argument.
Anyway, for Friday 4 September, the suggestion was that we gather for some early evening tennis in the Square and then eat5 at Kim & Micky’s place afterwards.
I think the pre-refurbishment look of the courts in 1992 can just be seen on the second court at the back of this picture.
Anyway, we were returning to the scene of the 8 August crime (as it were), with Kim, Micky and their dogs Charlie and Jumper in tow. In truth, even though I was no doubt sober on arrival, tennis peppered with dogs wanting to chase the balls all the time is not exactly great tennis.
But it was great company, of course. In any case, the wine would soon start to take effect making the tennis seem less important and the idea of sloping back to Kim & Micky’s place for more wine plus food increasingly appealing…
…so that’s what we did.
Janie recalls we did this more than once, but the evenings were drawing in and soon tennis was off the agenda for Friday evenings even though gathering after work on a Friday was something we did quite regularly (i.e. once every few weeks) in this early months/years.
Sunday 20 September shows Kim & Micky tennis in Janie’s diary, whereas it says “Bridge?” in mine. I don’t think the bridge happened. Janie had been to the Questors Theatre with her mum the night before. More on the Questors anon. Anyway, I do think we spent that Sunday afternoon with Kim & Micky, plus Charlie and Jumper making tennis havoc.
This lyric is also one of three pieces I wrote in a burst of creativity over the Bank Holiday weekend of 1992 after my first date with Janie – “had Janie become my muse so swiftly?”, I muse – the other two being:
So to the matter at hand; the lyric, Kate Adie. Kate Adie was one of my more successful NewsRevue lyrics. Kim insists that it is her favourite of all of them.
Yet, in truth, I don’t think it is a very good lyric.
It is a bit like a deceptive cup of coffee – it smells superb at the very first instant, then the rest cannot possibly meet the expectations set by the wicked first sniff.
Proof of this, should you need it, is that Ben Murphy in effect only recorded the opening line:
Still, the piece ran and ran in the show; there was room for some good business, I suppose. It went to Edinburgh in 1993 and was used as a flagship piece when the cast performed some material on a TV show, Wire TV. Enough of my thoughts on it, dear readers, you judge for yourselves. The broadcast recording starts at 7’45” in the YouTube below:
https://youtu.be/zvNXwyzSHG0
KATE ADIE
(For Timid BBC Producer and Kate Adie to the Tune of “Dream Lover”)
(You’ll have to supply most backing oooh-ooohs and yeh-yehs yourselves)
VERSE 1 – BBC PRODUCER
Every night I hope and pray,
That Kate Adie gets blown away;
Though at the Beeb I’m her boss,
I run and hide when she gets cross.
I’d like to watch {yeh-yeh yeh} her {yeh-yeh yeh} sweat {yeh-yeh yeh} with fear,
I’m sending Kate Adie to cover every war this year.
VERSE 2 – STILL THE BBC PRODUCER
Kate Adie where are you,
In Sarajevo or Mogadishu?
Although the air’s diffuse with lead,
The shrapnel bounces off your head.
Where Martin Bell {yeh-yeh yeh} fell {yeh-yeh yeh} she’s {yeh-yeh yeh} swell,
I think that Kate Adie could happily report from hell.
MIDDLE BIT – KATE ADIE
Some day I don’t know how,
I shall give up stringing,
I’ll be a Movie star,
Both dancing and singing.
(Kate demonstrates her hidden talents throughout he rest of the song)
VERSE 3 – KATE ADIE
Kate Adie until then,
I’ll scare the shit out of my men;
Although I’m soft underneath,
I’ll catch hand grenades with my teeth.
And I shall put {yeh-yeh yeh} on {yeh-yeh yeh} a brave {yeh-yeh yeh} show,
Yes this is Kate Adie BBC News Sarajevo.
Here is Dream Lover by Bobby Darin with lyrics on the screen:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_urVDCrf5A
For the completists amongst you/us, here is version two of the song tweaked for Christmas 1992:
KATE ADIE – VERSION 2
(For Timid BBC Producer and Kate Adie to the Tune of “Dream Lover”)
(You’ll have to supply most backing oooh-ooohs and yeh-yehs yourselves)
VERSE 1
Every night I hope and pray,
That Kate Adie gets blown away;
‘though at the Beeb I’m her boss,
I run and hide when she gets cross.
I’d like to watch {yeh-yeh yeh} her {yeh-yeh yeh} sweat {yeh-yeh yeh} with fear {yeh-yeh yeh},
I’m sending Kate Adie to cover every war this year.
VERSE 2
Kate Adie where are you,
In Sarajevo or Mogadishu?
Although the air’s diffuse with lead,
The shrapnel bounces off your head.
Where Martin Bell {yeh-yeh yeh} fell {yeh-yeh yeh} she’s {yeh-yeh yeh} swell {yeh-yeh yeh},
I think that Kate Adie could happily report from hell.
MIDDLE BIT
Some day the time will come,
That she gives up writing;
She’ll buy a Tommy Gun,
And take up street fighting.
VERSE 3
Kate Adie, mercenary,
Will not be more incendiary;
But when she gets blown up,
She’ll be rebuilt like Robocop.
(enter Kate Adie to sing the last two lines)
And I shall be {yeh-yeh yeh} a {yeh-yeh yeh} grave {yeh-yeh yeh} foe {yeh-yeh yeh},
Yes this is Kate Adie BBC News Sarajevo.
…and there was even a Version 3 in 1994 – I told you the piece ran and ran despite my reservations about it:
KATE ADIE – VERSION 3
(You’ll have to supply most backing oooh-ooohs and yeh-yehs yourselves)
VERSE 1
Every night I hope and pray,
That Kate Adie gets blown away;
Although she seems awful cross,
I don’t suppose she gives a toss.
I have to watch {yeh-yeh yeh} her {yeh-yeh yeh} snarl {yeh-yeh yeh} and sneer {yeh-yeh yeh},
Because old Kate Adie’s reporting every war this year.
VERSE 2
Kate Adie where are you,
In Sarajevo or Mogadishu?
Although the air’s diffuse with lead,
The shrapnel bounces off your head.
Where Martin Bell {yeh-yeh yeh} fell {yeh-yeh yeh} she’s {yeh-yeh yeh} swell {yeh-yeh yeh},
I think that Kate Adie could happily report from hell.
MIDDLE BIT
Some day the time will come,
That she gives up writing;
She’ll buy a Tommy Gun,
And take up street fighting.
VERSE 3
Kate Adie, mercenary,
Would not be more incendiary;
But if she got blown up,
She’d be rebuilt like Robocop.
(enter Kate Adie to sing the last two lines)
And I shall be {yeh-yeh yeh} a {yeh-yeh yeh} grave {yeh-yeh yeh} foe {yeh-yeh yeh},
Yes this is Kate Adie BBC News Sarajevo.
There was even a subsequent Version 3, which should, I suppose, have been named Version 4, in late January 1995:
KATE ADIE – VERSION 3
(You’ll have to supply most backing oooh-ooohs and yeh-yehs yourselves)
VERSE 1
Every night I hope and pray,
That Kate Adie gets blown away (or, for the faint hearted, “That Kate Adie will go away”);
Although she seems awful cross,
I don’t suppose she gives a toss.
I have to watch {yeh-yeh yeh} her {yeh-yeh yeh} snarl {yeh-yeh yeh} and sneer {yeh-yeh yeh},
Because old Kate Adie’s reporting every war this year.
VERSE 2
Kate Adie where are you,
In Sarajevo or Mogadishu?
Although the air’s diffuse with lead,
The shrapnel bounces off your head.
Where Martin Bell {yeh-yeh yeh} fell {yeh-yeh yeh} she’s {yeh-yeh yeh} swell {yeh-yeh yeh},
I think that Kate Adie could happily report from hell.
MIDDLE BIT
Some day the time will come,
That she gives up writing;
She’ll buy a Tommy Gun,
And take up street fighting.
VERSE 3
Kate Adie, mercenary,
Would not be more incendiary;
But if she got blown up,
She’d be rebuilt like Robocop.
(enter Kate Adie to sing the last two lines)
And I shall be {yeh-yeh yeh} a {yeh-yeh yeh} grave {yeh-yeh yeh} foe {yeh-yeh yeh},
Yes this is Kate Adie BBC News Sarajevo.
Here is a vid of Bobby Darin performing Dream Lover live on TV – so 1950s:
The extraordinary thing about this sketch and medley is the date I first wrote it – two-and-a-half weeks before Black Wednesday.
My log records that I first wrote it on the August bank holiday weekend, ironically. I tinkered with it on the Tuesday (1 September) and called it Version 2 – only that tinkered version survives of the pre Black Wednesday versions.
The NewsRevue cast didn’t use it at that time – it probably didn’t seem topical to them ahead of the crisis.
I subsequently changed and improved the piece a lot, post crisis, renaming it “As Time Goes By or They Flew From Tuscany”, so most of the material did get used eventually. The “Don’t Fuck Up the Economy” lyric in particular ran and ran.
Anyway, for those who like this sort of quirky thing, here is the sketch and medley in its original form, including the final lyric of the medley which (in its way) explains why Black Wednesday happened:
MINISTERIAL BRIEF ENCOUNTER – VERSION 2
(A Sketch and Medley from the good old 1940’s)
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
John Major (Johnny)
Virginia Bottomley (Gini)
Gillian Shepherd (Jilly)
Norman Lamont (Fartface)
THE SKETCH
(The pianist tinkles away, preferably the Second Movement of Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto – a la Brief Encounter – or failing that some other slushy stuff. The music is adagio sostenuto, the voices are staccato. We start with just Johnny and Gini on stage.)
GINI:Johnny.
JOHNNY:Gini.
GINI:Oh Johnny. What’s happened to the economy?
JOHNNY:Gerry’s giving us a bally barney, Gini. The pound keeps going down.
GINI:What about Yankee Doodle Dandy?
JOHNNY:Gerry’s giving Yankee Doodle Dandy a bally barney too, Gini.
GINI:Oh Johnny, this darned economy’s ruining all our lives. I’m sorry. I’m acting like a bally fool.
(Enter Jilly)
JILLY:Hello Gini.
GINI:Hello Jilly. Do you know my friend Johnny?
JILLY:Hello Johnny.
JOHNNY:Hello Jilly. What do you do for the old effort?
JILLY:I’m in employment.
JOHNNY:Gosh, that is unusual these days.
JILLY:In the ministry. Gosh, Johnny, it’s all going horribly. Where’s Normy?
JOHNNY:Out there in the treasury battling it out with Gerry.
GINI:Oh God, I hope he isn’t going to do something silly.
(Enter Normy)
JOHNNY:Here he comes now, and I rather think he is going to do something silly.
JILLY:You don’t mean……
NORMY:Yes, I’m going to sing a medley. And you’re going to help me.
THE MEDLEY
DON’T FUCK UP THE ECONOMY
(To the tune of “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree”)
Don’t fuck up the economy with anyone else but me,
Anyone else but me, anyone else but me (no, no no);
Don’t fuck up the economy with anyone else but me,
‘Til I return from Tuscany.
Don’t devalue the currency with countries like Germany,
We’ll solve it internally, from now till eternity (no no no);
Don’t devalue the currency we’ve purchasing parity,
With Greece and Italy.
FALLING IN ERM
(To the tune of “Falling in Love again”)
I often stop and wonder, why stripy shirted men,
Financial markets plunder, sell pounds and buy yen.
We offer them low taxes, but still those city sharks,
With mobile phones and faxes, dump pounds for Deutchmarks.
Falling in ERM,
Sterling’s down the drain,
Valueless again,
So don’t hold it.
Falling in ERM,
Sterling is the pits,
Norman’s got the shits,
And can’t help us.
THE ERM AND ECU ERK FROM NUMBER ELEVEN
(To the tune of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy From Company B”)
He is a chubby little chap from out West London way,
He rented out his flat to girls you have to pay;
He is in charge of treasury,
But he could never get through an economics degree,
He is the Chancellor of the Exchequer here,
He’s the ERM and ECU erk from Number Eleven.
He likes to blow his trumpet and he thinks he’s great,
But he cannot maintain the Public’s interest rate;
The people think he is a jerk,
Because the pounds up the creek and half the folks can’t find work;
We ought to chuck him out with a flea in his ear,
Cos our ERM and ECU erk can’t count to Eleven.
“We won’t, we won’t, we won’t we won’t we won’t”…..,
I think his needle is stuck,
…..”Devalue Sterling”;
He won’t say a word unless a Treasury crisis is unfurling;
Why don’t we terminate, this ministers career?
Change the ERM and ECU erk at Number Eleven.
Here are the Andrews Sisters singing “Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree”:
…and Marlene Dietrich singing “Falling In Love Again”…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaZDiKRT1is
…and the Andrews Sisters again, this time singing “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”:
It seemed that the princesses were leading parallel lives, so I tried combining the two into a medley…
…I’m not sure it was used. If it was used, it was only used for a week or two. Whereas “Snooping” was used on and off in various rewritten versions for years.
Anyway, for the completists amongst us (that’s probably just me) here is the medley lyric as published.
PARALLEL LIVES
(A medley based on Songs from “Parallel Lines”)
SNOOPING ON THE MOBILE PHONE (To the tune of “Hanging on the Telephone”)
VERSE 1 – DIANA
He’s on the car phone I am calling from the Palace,
I call James squidgy but my other words sound callous,
I hate the Queen, Prince Charles and Princess Alice;
Hope no-one’s snooping on his mobile phone,
Snooping on his mobile phone.
VERSE 2 – THE SNOOPER
I like to listen in on other’s conversation,
I am a banker so I know about inflation,
I intercept the lines and cause a press sensation;
That’s why I snoop on mobile telephones,
Snoop on mobile telephones.
PICTURE TITS (To the Tune of “Picture This”)
VERSE
NEWSHOUND:All I want is a picture of boobs;
A shot of Fergie, a nipple or two,
All I want is a picture of boobs;
Wo-oh-oh, wo-wo-wo.
FERGIE:All I want is financial advice,
John raises finance, I raise his vice,
What I get is a sensible price,
Oh-oh-oh, if I can…..
CHORUS
NEWSHOUND:Picture tits – with lenses and zoom tubes,
Picture tits – Fergie’s final boobs,
She’s got nothing to lose,
Since she jacked in Andrew’s,
Quiet life with his feet up reading Beano with a mug of hot cocoa;
This lyric was my first attempt at Princess Diana and certainly wasn’t the last. In fact, I adapted this one a good few times over the years to address various Princess Diana news stories; not least a string of 1994 stories – click here.
Needless to say, the Princess Diana mirth industry stopped abruptly five years and one day later. But the mobile phone snooping did not stop in the late 1990s, no siree.
SNOOPING ON THE MOBILE PHONE
(To the tune of “Hanging on the Telephone”)
VERSE 1 – DIANA
He’s on the car phone I am calling from the Palace,
I call James Squidgy but my other words sound callous,
I hate the Queen, Prince Charles and Princess Alice;
Hope no-one’s snooping on his mobile phone,
Hope no-one’s snooping on his mobile phone.
VERSE 2 – THE SNOOPER
I like to listen in on other’s conversation,
I am a banker so I know about inflation,
I sold the tapes and that has caused a press sensation;
Oh I hope they talk again,
Lots of dirty talk again,
That would raise my pork again.
That’s why I snoop on mobile telephones,
That’s why I snoop on mobile telephones.
VERSE 3 – FERGIE
I hate the fact Diana gets all the attention,
Since Squidgy hit the news I’ve hardly had a mention,
I’ll call some old boy friends to get back in contention;
As long as they have mobile telephones,
(They all have mobile telephones).
VERSE 4 – DIANA AGAIN
I gave Charles chances but that big eared fat head blew it,
Why don’t you ride me, Squidgy, we both want to do it,
Sorry, wrong number, James, I thought you were James Hewitt;
This is the third and final part of my 25th anniversary Ogblog trilogy on “how Janie and I got it together”. In case you missed the first two parts and are interested in reading them, here are links to the first two episodes:
So, the ossobuco supper gave me the perfect opportunity to phone Janie to thank her for her hospitality and ask her out.
As luck would have it, I was sitting on a pair of hot tickets, The Street Of Crocodiles at the Cottesloe Theatre. It was my habit back then to book up quite a few such productions a long way in advance, with Bobbie Scully in mind for first dips, but with an unwritten agreement with Bobbie that she couldn’t commit that far in advance and that I might need to find someone else to join me…
…anyway, I had these tickets for 29 August and they seemed an ideal way to reciprocate.
Janie seemed keen on the idea, so the date was set.
I also offered to cook Janie a pre-theatre meal, after first checking that she liked Chinese food.
I can’t remember exactly which dishes I went for, but I’ll guess I plugged for bankable favourites that were reasonably easy to prepare and which needed relatively little clearing up afterwards:
cha chieng lettuce wrap – probably using veal mince or a mix of veal and pork mince;
chicken and cashew nuts with yellow bean sauce;
I thought the second main dish was steak slices with onions, mushrooms and black bean sauce, but Janie reckons the second dish was prawns with ginger and spring onions and now I think she is right;
pak choi with oyster sauce;
steamed basmati rice.
No TripAdvisor review for the meal, but on reminding Janie about it just now, she has described it as “amazing”, so there you go.
But far more amazing than my meal was The Street Of Crocodiles. It really was a stunningly good show.
The play is based on the stories of Bruno Schulz, which (from what we can gather) were weird enough when written, but when given the Complicite treatment, they become a sensory overload of words, music and movement.
Janie had driven to my place and insisted on also driving to the National Theatre – the latter habit being one she rarely deviates from 25 years later.
The evening seemed to have gone splendidly well. Janie was very complimentary about my cooking and seemed very taken with the show.
When we got back to my place, I asked Janie if she wanted to come back upstairs to my flat.
She said no.
I asked her if she was absolutely sure.
Janie said that she was absolutely sure and drove off.
So that was that – although on this occasion I sensed that “no” meant “not this time” and that there would be plenty of other times.
A rare, indeed mysterious visit to the Canal Cafe on a Tuesday.
I recall this only vaguely. The diary helps just a little.
When I dropped off my Woody Allen & Mia Farrow lyric the week before, I think I ran into Jacqui Somerville herself at the Canal. Either that, or I ran into Harriet Quirk who had a message that Jacqui wanted to meet me. In any case, Jacqui and I arranged to meet on a non-NewsRevue evening.
Jacqui had been directing the early spring run of NewsRevue – that was the first show I saw. I shall write up the story of my early correspondence and visits in the fullness of time. Jacqui had her own ideas about the show, including her own pet writers, some of whom were cast, which went down very badly with the regular writers.
Indeed, at the first NewsRevue writers meeting I attended, some told me not to bother submitting for a few weeks, others simply suggested that I don’t lose heart and resubmit material that had longevity for the subsequent run; which was in fact the John Random run that first used my stuff.
So I do remember Jacqui’s rendezvous request sort-of feeling like an assignation. What would the other writers think if they found out about it? Was she going to try and recruit me into the comedy writing dark side? Or to spy for the Russians or something?
In fact, I recall finding Jacqui quite delightful company, very encouraging and full of good advice/ideas for my writing. I had a little burst of creativity over the subsequent bank holiday weekend, which I’m sure was somewhat inspired by that Tuesday evening chat.
I don’t know whether Jacqui met up with any of the other regular NewsRevue writers over that summer to build bridges, but she certainly won me over and used plenty of the regular writers’ material (not least mine) in future runs she directed, not least the 1992 Christmas run.
I also recall running into Jacqui and her more serious theatre work in subsequent years.
I wonder whether Harriet remembers much about this tiny incident or indeed whether this short piece might be a magnet with which to re-establish contact with Jacqui, as part of our “class of ’92” reunion project?
Anthea Does Street Style Photography March 19, 2015 · Flare – Canada’s Fashion Magazine · Flare.com
