Tag: Rupert Stubbs

A Shrieval Day, Michael Mainelli’s Admission And Breakfast As Aldermanic Sheriff Of The City Of London, 27 September 2019

Well, who’d have thought it? My business partner, Michael Mainelli, Alderman & Sheriff of the City of London. Fancy.

Actually, this shrieval office is one of the most ancient offices in all humanity that remains in continuous use. See helpful blurb from the back of the breakfast menu below.

From my point of view, it was a great opportunity to catch up with old friends, acquaintances and of course Michael’s family from across the decades – Michael and I have now worked together for over 30 years and this event falls on the eve of the 25th anniversary of Z/Yen (or soon after it, depending on how you look on these things.)

Z/Yen, The Very First Z/Yen Seasonal Song Lyric, 9 December 1994

Anyway, point is, from the moment I arrived at the Guildhall, I found myself running into and chatting with folk I have known for ages; Michael’s brother Kelly and sister Katy, Elisabeth’s brother Marcus, Chris Smith, Robert Pay… also several of Michael’s high-profile friends, such as Neal Stephenson and Faisal Islam, who for once were in circumstances where they were perhaps less well known than me!

But today was about Michael Mainelli and his partner in crime (I mean in controlling crime of course) Sheriff Christopher Hayward, CC.

First up was the admission ceremony. It is explained on the following page.

This is not a ceremony that one films or photographs, but its ceremonial look might be gleaned from the following Pathe film from 1949 which claims to be the Mayoral Election but its title also claims to be a shrieval occasion, which I think might be an error:

Medieval ceremonial and an uber-historic look to many of the garbs there, from so long ago that the world was in black and white.

The ceremony in the Great Hall was a solemn affair; the Common Cryer and Serjeant-at-Arms broke the silence by commanding silence, so startlingly that several people made audible gasps before falling silent once more. I especially liked that bit.

After the ceremony, a reception downstairs in the Old Library – an opportunity to catch up with many people before going upstairs for the banquet.

At the reception, downstairs in the Old Library

I was too timid to take any pictures that day, but Rupert Stubbs, another of those good friends met through Michael and Elisabeth from decades back, took loads and sent me quite a few; many thanks Rupert.

I have often joked with friends from the North of England about the word dinner, meaning luncheon in the north and evening meal in the south of England. But here is an instance of a lunch-time (or do I mean dinner-time?) banquet being described as a breakfast. Indeed the breakfast invitation says…

the breakfast does not usually conclude before 3:30 pm

…which some of us might mistake for tea-time.

The term breakfast in this context, of course, like a wedding breakfast, has the ancient connotation of being the meal after a solemn ceremony before which, in days of yore, the main participants would be so engrossed in prayer ahead of the ceremony that the after ceremony meal would be, for them, the breaking of a devotional fast.

It did look grand…it was grand

Amazing grub too:

After the repast, the speeches in that glorious Old Library setting

I especially enjoyed Professor Jo Delahunty’s speech, during which she placed great emphasis on diversity and the rule of law; this year’s shrieval theme. Some around me seemed to find her speech, which seemed to me to be the voice of moderation, a bit edgy for the occasion. Apparently it is “the done thing” to restrict that particular speech to “pomping up the incoming sheriffs” (my choice of words for the gripes I heard).

Actually, my only beef with Jo Delahunty’s address was the selection of terrible mustard puns she made at the end of the talk, somewhat apologetically, as she had been told that it was compulsory to end on a joke.

That type of joke is a crime against hilarity in my book and the sheriffs should have done something to restore good order…except that I have a dreadful feeling that one of the sheriffs might have been the sauce of the puns [pun intended].

In any case, Jo did plug The Price Of Fish at the start of her talk, so I would forgive her pretty much anything.

Three hours after we sat down to breakfast, it was all over. Except that, before heading home, there was time to mill around and chat with some of the people I’d missed out on before the event. It really was lovely to see those people again.

The grandees departed in grand style…

…while the likes of me departed on the Central Line straight back to Noddyland and our little mock-medieval cottage:

West Acton, Chester Court, Monks Drive, W3 - geograph.org.uk - 217751
One of the grander buildings in Noddyland, dwarfing our cottage
This sheriff is not for mocking

So what does a new sheriff do on the weekend after his admission? Why, of course, he drives sheep across London Bridge. What else? Here’s a little film of the very thing that Michael is doing right now as I type (film from the previous year of course):

While the only thing that is driving out here in Noddyland, as I write, is the driving rain against my window pain.

Here is a link to Michael’s own take on the big day…by which I mean Admission day, not Sheep Driving Day.

A Wild Time In Late December 1998: Three Events

Photo by Richard Bartz, Munich Makro Freak, CC BY-SA 2.5

Michael Mainelli’s Birthday Party Aboard Lady Daphne In St Katherine’s Dock, 19 December 1998

Fret not, we were below for this party

Quite a big do. This was Michael’s 40th. Live music if I remember correctly. All the usual suspects were there. And us.

In those days you didn’t take a gazillion pictures at parties. Perhaps someone did take pictures, but I don’t recall seeing any from this party. If Michael and Elisabeth have some and want to provide digital versions thereof, I’ll gladly put a few of them into this article.

We ate, we drank, we danced, we made merry. it was a party.

Christmas Lunch At My Parent’s Place, 25 December 1998

There’s little in the diary about this, other than a tell-tale note that the taxi would cost £32, which was almost certainly an Ealing to Streatham price in those days.

I suspect that Jacqueline, Len and Hils were there that year. I also suspect that this was one of the last times, if not the last time, that my mum did Christmas day at Woodfield Avenue.

It will have been turkey for main, I’m pretty sure.

A Wild Boar Dinner At Sandall Close, Sunday 27 December 1998

The tell-tale note in Janie’s diary is an order for a rack of wild boar from Harvey Nicholls “for next Sunday”. This was one of Janie’s specialities at that time and boy was it good. We have never since found a source of excellent wild boar rack since Harvey Nicks stopped doing it.

The cast for that evening (again made clear from Janie’s diary) was Kim & Micky, Anthea [Simms] & Mitchell [Sams], plus Rupert [Stubbs] & Ana. Janie rather impressively remembered that Ana was Ana Limbrick, who (as well as dating Rupert at that time) was, indeed still is, a physiotherapist to whom Janie occasionally refers clients.

It will have been a jolly evening, despite the fact that several of the guests no doubt said “what a boar” when praising the meal.

The Very Second Z/Yen Charity Cricket Match – The First With The Children’s Society, 25 August 1998

We returned to the scene of the first Z/Yen charity cricket match, which had taken place just a few week’s earlier…

The Very First Z/Yen Charity Cricket Match, Barnardo’s, 22 July 1998

…again to play with Barnardo’s, but this time also with The Children’s Society.

I know that Ian Theodoreson and Bob Harvey gave us and their Barnardo’s charges every encouragement to make these evenings happen, but I have a feeling that neither of them made it to either evening.

Anyway, it was a very jolly evening and a great chance for people to get to know each other as well as mess around a bit playing cricket.

Not only did Barnardo’s still supply a bunch of dudes who knew what they were doing – see photo above…

…The Children’s Society was also blessed with some half-decent cricketers, including Chief Executive and glove man Ian Sparks:

Ian Sparks on gloves, Harish Gohil at bat; presumably this was warming up pre contest
Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett – starting as he meant to go on

I can’t remember in detail the playing conditions we came up with for this particular evening, but sort-of having three teams in an after work round robin in August was never going to work brilliantly as matches. I have a feeling we played sort-of eight a side with additional supply fielders from the sides that weren’t batting.

No slide rule – but the Barnardo’s score book and my own trusty light meter
Reservoir Dogs but without the ultraviolence? Kevin Parker (striding, front left), Rupert Stubbs (hatted, central), Michael Mainelli (arms folded in disgust, right).
Spot the ball (obviously going uppishly to backward square leg, that’s me batting)
Mainelli looks relieved to have been dismissed.

I still think the whole idea had started with Kevin Parker and some of the Barnardo’s team he was working with – I wonder if I can extract a confession from him.

Kevin probably doesn’t realise quite what a Z/Yen tradition he kicked off. Kevin was long gone by the time Garry Sobers came to watch us play, for example…

The Day Garfield Sobers Watched Me & Z/Yen Play Cricket, Lord’s, 30 June 2009

…but I digress.

We had a lot of fun with the Barnardo’s and Children Society folk in that summer of 1998.

Below is a link to all the pictures from both of the 1998 matches:

Cricket_1998 (1)

Some Weeks Without Theatre, Music Or Overseas Travel, But With People, Late March To Early April 1998

Grand Hotel, Hove (public domain picture)

As we had planned to be away for most of March, but changed our plans due to Phillipa’s indisposition, we had a few weeks of relatively low key activity that spring. Yet we ended up meeting and seeing a lot of people.

Introduced To Nigel Hinks, 20/27 March 1998

I very rarely talk about work-related matters in Ogblog, but by my meeting Charles Bartlett (in Autumn 1997) and Nigel Hinks in March 1998, through The Children’s Society, a tradition that endures a quarter of a century later was established:

Guest Piece by Nigel Hinks: The Birth Of The Heavy Rollers Tradition, Edgbaston, June 1998, Including The Revelations And Acts That Led To The Birth

In the matter of being introduced to Nigel, my diary has clear notes. I had a meeting with Clive Timms on 20 March 1998, at which he gave me Nigel Hinks & Jeff Tye’s telephone numbers. I had an initial telephone call with Nigel the following week (27 March) and the rest, as they say, history.

Charles & Nigel 15 years later, Chester-Le-Street: Clive didn’t mention the singing

A Resourceful Party, Thanks To Rupert Stubbs, 28 March 1998

Then a Chiswick home, latterly a Maldon Tea House

After speaking with Nigel on 27 March I went to play bridge at Maz’s place (almost certainly with Andrea and Tessa on that occasion), then on to Janie’s place.

That Saturday lunchtime Janie and I went to a party on Rupert Stubbs’s Thames Sailing Barge of a home, Resourceful. This might have been my first “return to the scene of the crime that was Michael Mainelli’s stag night” since that night.

Harrendous, A Poem For Michael Mainelli’s Stag Night, 3 May 1996

Janie and I remember this party surprisingly well. Rupie was going out with a lovely lass by the name of Sophie at that time. The party was mostly populated by people we didn’t know – i.e. we only knew a few of Rupert’s friends before the party. Most of the party goers were either Sophie’s fun friends, whom we got to know by dint of the party, and a rather cliquey crowd of Rupert’s colleagues from Saatchi & Saatchi who were, to say the least, not quite so friendly.

Here’s Rupie a few week’s later, at an early Z/Yen cricket match, donning whites in a Saatchi & Saatchi ad man stylee. The hat is an especially telling piece of non-cricket garb.

Anyway, the hospitality was lavish and there were plenty of fun people, so we had a really good time. We weren’t surprised when we learnt that Rupert had left Saatchi’s not all that long afterwards.

A Grand Time In Sussex, 3 & 4 April 1998

Records show that we stayed at The Grand Hotel in Hove – my first return to the place since my Geoffrey Boycott encounter there nearly 30 years earlier.

A Short Holiday In Brighton, During Which I Met Geoffrey Boycott & The Yorkshire Cricket Team, 3 September 1969

I think this visit was primarily to do with Janie doing a CPD course or joining a podiatrtist’s convention of some kind, but we were also able to combine it with a visit to Michelle & Neil’s [Epstein/Infield] place in Balcombe on the way back.

Central Balcombe Nigel Freeman, CC BY-SA 2.0

The hospitality will have been warm and friendly. I think that might have been the only time Janie visited Michelle & Neil’s place.

A Weekend Including The Arrival of Nobby, Cause Célèbre by Terence Rattigan, Lyric Hammersmith, A Drive Out To Mainelli-land On The Sunday & Finally Unwanted News On Our Return Home, 7 & 8 February 1998

A memorable weekend in all sorts of ways, this one – good and bad.

The weekend started with me collecting Nobby, my souped-down Honda CRX. I don’t often buy cars, so this was a big day.

Janie, with Nobby, at his last resting place, 16 years later

Then Cause Célèbre at the Lyric, which I simply rated “good”.

It didn’t get much press. Here’s a snippet from the Sunday Telegraph:

22 Feb 1998, Sun Sunday Telegraph (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com Cause Célèbre 2 of 2 Sunday TelegraphCause Célèbre 2 of 2 Sunday Telegraph 22 Feb 1998, Sun Sunday Telegraph (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com

I’ve never been a huge fan of Rattigan and I recall that this play/production didn’t really change my view.

On the Sunday, somewhat on a whim I seem to recall, the Mainelli’s invited us over to their place as they had several people already scheduled to visit and they wanted a butchers at my new motor.

My abiding memory of that visit was how cold it was that day, but the assembled throng (especially Rupert Stubbs) insisted that we remove the roof of the car and drive off demonstrating the open-toppedness of the thing.

Dall-e thinks we looked a bit like this

When we got home, while we were eating a camembert salad supper, Janie’s twin sister Philippa called to let us know the bad news that she had been diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer. That news dampened our mood considerably and turned our world upside down for quite a while.

Harrendous, A Poem For Michael Mainelli’s Stag Night, 3 May 1996

Latterly a tea room in Maldon, at that time Rupert Stubbs’s home in Chiswick.

I wrote this parody poem for Michael Mainelli’s stag night, which was held on Rupert Stubbs’s barge in Chiswick.

A rare example of a piece I wrote and performed myself; given the cosy audience and their state at the time of the recitation, unsurprisingly it went down rather well.

HARRENDOUS
One of the most godawful lays made about the city MCMXCVI
(A poem not entirely dissimilar to Horatius by Lord Macaulay)

VERSE 1

Liz Lizbetchen, she of Chiswick
By the sauerkraut she swore
That the great house of Franken
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the sauerkraut she swore it,
And named a wedding day,
And bade her messengers set sail,
Letters, faxes, calls and e-mail,
To summon her array.

VERSE 2

Letters, faxes calls and e-mail
She let them know real fast,
In hamlet, town and cottage
And little places you’d drive past.
Shame on the false Etreusscan
Who lingers at the stalls,
When Lizbetchen of Chiswick
Has Michael by the balls.

VERSE 3

Now from the dock St Katherine’s
Could young Mainelli spy
The line of blazing bridesmaids
Across the midnight sky.
The buddies of Mainelli,
They sat all night and day,
For every hour some faxes came
With tidings of dismay.

VERSE 4

To London and to Franken
Have spread the Reusscan bands
Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote
Unrenovated stands.
Bayswater down to Bishopsgate
Hath wasted in a dash;
Our Liz has stormed through Selfridges
And spent shitloads of cash.

VERSE 5

They held a council standing
Before the River Thames;
Short time was there, ye well may guess,
To stop him buying gems.
Out spake the Verschoyle roundly:
“That Liz must great go down;
Mainelli’s sense is truly lost,
We might as well rave on down.”

VERSE 6

Then out spake brave Harrendous,
The one from Michael’s firm:
“To every man upon this earth
Wedlock cometh like a germ.
And how can a man wed better
Than pissed as a bloody fart
Cos he’ll still be window shopping
For a fresh bit of jam tart.

VERSE 7

So start the rave Sir Rupie,
With all the speed ye may;
I with two more to help me,
Will get on down, way hay.
The legal limit of a thousand
May well be drunk by three.
Now who will stand on either hand
And get well pissed with me?

VERSE 8

Then out spake Lucas Clementus;
A boating man proud was he:
“Yo, I will stand at thy right hand,
And get well pissed with thee.”
Then out spoke Ricardus Sealyus,
Of filming man fame was he:
“I will abide on thy left side,
And get well pissed with thee.”

VERSE 9

Then out spake Marcus Schlossmanus,
A photographer proud and tall:
“Don’t mind if I do have a quick jar or two,
Until I’m senseless and I fall.”
Then out spake Julius Mountainous,
A friend from firms gone by:
“I’ll knock them back, build up a stack,
I can drink this damned barge dry.”

VERSE 10

Then out spake Rupius Stubbsius,
A Saatchi man by trade:
“Just hold it a tick with your big swinging dicks,
This is my party I’m afraid.
For stags at stag nights quarrel
Spared either girl or dame,
No maids, no duff, no bits of fluff,
Not even one that’s on the game.

VERSE 11

Imbibers oh imbibers!
It’s Michael we must drown,
A bachelor but a few days left,
So just shut up and party on down.”
So he spake and speaking sheathed
(tho “why sheathed” in this company? doesn’t it make you think??)
And with his wineglass in his hand
Plunged headlong in the drink.

VERSE 12

Years later, you’ll not remember
Much about that night gone by;
But you’ll recall the week of migraine
And that month of sustained red eye.
With weeping and with laughter
You’ll tell the stories right,
How well Mainelli held his drink,
On Michael’s wild stag night.

If you want to know what Horatius At The Bridge by Lord Macaulay actually reads like, click here for the poem. Trigger warning: if you think my parody version is too long, I wouldn’t try reading all 600 or so lines of the original.