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Archive for 2010

“We built this city on debts and booze…”

 

Molly and her admirers...

 

Having only remembered on Thursday previous it was my turn again to choose our route for Sunday, I hastily cobbled together a list of potentials, had a quick scout on the interweb and took a little time to whittle my list down to five. If only we could visit them all; give it time and we will have I guess.  An interesting weekend it was turning out to be with the madcap encounter described by DMcHugh below on Friday evening, a great Punky Reggae Party in Seomra Spraoi later that night, a large slice of luck on Saturday afternoon (many thanks to Ringsend Rose;) and a beautiful Sunday afternoon. What better day for a walk around the city…  Waiting at Molly Malone for the lads, I was witness to streams of tourists pause and giggle at Molly’s… ahem… appendages, funny photos  to be taken back home and talked about, and no doubt the source of many profile pictures on Facebook and Bebo alike. I couldn’t believe it- a queue actually started to mount- I’d say if you stood there with a Polaroid camera and a sign saying “Photographs, €10” you’d be worth a fortune. Anyways, I’m losing the run of myself. A quiet start this week, just the three of us mainstays meeting for the start, to be joined later by Antrophe, DSmith and JFlood.

The Duke, Duke Street

So… first stop. I had decided to cover old territory; Around Grafton Street, we had already stopped off, with varying degrees of success, in Nearys, McDaids, The Bailey, Kehoes and Davy Byrnes. One pub missing from this list, one we should have included before now but neglected, is of course The Duke, on Duke Street. The outside of this pub belies a certain grandeur within; it really is a large premises that you can’t imagine ever being packed, what with the same floorspace in the upstairs bar as down. The end of the milk cup or tin cup final or whatever piece of silverware it was the Manchester Reds and the Birmigham Clarets were battling out for was on the big screen but the barman pointed out that there were a couple of quieter seats down the back or upstairs. (You might have noticed a theme of disdain towards the English Premier League in mine and DFallon’s posts, thats pretty much because we do hold it in disdain, and well, something akin to hatred, preferring to support teams actually on this island.) I didn’t do my duty and write the prices of the pints down in each place but if memory serves, pints here were €4.45 and very enjoyable indeed. A nice crowd in too but well dispersed, such is the lay out of the place. JayCarax led the way and we captured a nice quiet table near the back of the pub. Another venue for the pour your own pint initiative that seems to be popping up all over the place, you wonder if the characters historically connected with this place (It was, for a time, purported to be the favourite watering hole of Behan, O’Brien and other Dublin literary luminaries, and after that, Ronnie Drew and his cohorts) would take to such a thing, I can imagine them pouring and drinking the pints alright, its the paying for them that I’m not sure about.

The Gingerman, Fenian Street

We didn’t linger too long, aware that the night had to end earlier than usual with JayCarax spinning the decks at the The Magnificent 7’s Session in 4 Dame Lane later that night. A nice place this, innocuous enough to be honest, historically important when it comes to Dublin social history but not much you can say after that; A fine pub, with fine pints and fine staff, certainly one that didn’t jump out as being outstanding having lost the characters of old  but I don’t have a bad thing to say about it either.

So we upped and headed out the door, to our next stop which was to be The Gingerman on Fenian Street. The Gingerman, which takes it’s name from the famous novel by JP Donleavy (a Mullingar resident now, strangely enough.) The first thing that hit us walking in the door was the smell, and that’s never a good thing- Close your eyes and you could well be in the Markievitz swimming pool down the road; bleach or chlorine or both… At least its an indication the place is clean I guess! I wasn’t over-awed by this place to be honest, nice and all as it was. None of us ventured a try at their home brew, all sticking to pints of plain at a relatively expensive €4.60. I guess the fact it’s attached to the Davenport Hotel drives the price up. DFallon was happy to see “real, actual books” on the shelves though, after his terrible let down out in the airport. The table opposite us was surrounded by young Trinners types sipping on “min-er-dils;” 7-ups and Fantas all around for some reason, maybe they didn’t trust the drink or were just the athletic type, who knows. Joined on this stop by JFlood, three became four and we headed off after another couple of mediocre pints.

Ned Scanlons, Townsend Street

The next stop was probably the strangest of our stops so far on this run. Ned Scanlons (Or just plain and simple “Neds”) on Townsend Street is an institution in itself. They make absolutely no qualms about being a spit-and-sawdust  local and rumour has it that it’s not long since they stopped spreading sawdust on the floor, having recently undergone “renovation” and adding quite a nice beer garden/ smoking area out the back. Now, it would be suicidal of me to criticize this place too much, as a few old friends and work-mates count it as their home-away-from-home but to say it’s “quaint” will do. You can’t give out, the pints ring in at €3.80 a pop. This was no student deal (You get the feeling students would be torn alive in here,) just one of the cheapest pints in Dublin. And a nice pint it was too, served by a jovial barman with his shirt hanging out at the back and looking like he had been indulging in the stock himself. I like this sort of pub, I’m not sure if the others do though. Going to the jacks is like heading into a dungeon, the womens was only added as an afterthought a couple of years ago, and the mens not far before that. Renowned as an early house, Neds is in the same tradition as Kennedys at Tara Street station and certainly one of a dying breed. As four became five, with Antrophe joining us, and inebriation setting in, we started on the short hop to our next stop, The Longstone down the other end of Townsend Street.

The Long Stone, Townsend Street

I’ve already written a bit about this place below but I didn’t really go into it other than discuss the beautiful banners they have hanging on the walls. Aesthetically beautiful, this place and Davy Byrnes probably fight it out for the title of Dublins best looking pub. Although large and imposing,  a lot of work has gone into ensuring that it remains authentic and doesn’t turn into a faceless beerhall. The front part of the pub is anonymous enough, small tables in areas squared off by the couches but when you get to the back of the pub… wow. This area is enclosed on three sides by a natural stone framed staircase on the left,  a large landing area with quiet low tabling to the front and a narrow natural timber staircase to the right . We took up positon next to the ornate fireplace, said to represent Lugh, the norse god of light and heat… or something. We were joined here by DSmith, on his first venture along to the CHTM pubcrawl. As I said, I did a sizable piece on this pub below so don’t want to harp on about it. It’s beautiful to look at, I think pints were somewhere in the €4.60 range and weren’t too shabby. The banners I talked about below, obviously, inspired a great deal of conversation as again and little known facts and titbits of history started to flow and we lost ourselves, yet again. I’ve been here on a Friday evening before and it does tend to get busy, as do most Dublin pubs on Friday, an onslaughtg of office workers from all over the city who stagger from work to pub and merrily home.

Bowes, Fleet Street

Merrily we left this place too, and after a brief run in with an Gardaí Siochána who demanded JayCarax list off what records were in his case before letting us go on our way (a truly comic… or tragic moment, a young man with a suitcase full of records; unheard of) muttering that it must be a quiet night on Dublin’s streets. Last stop, and new ground for us all- Bowes on Fleet Street.

I only realised the existence of this pub a couple of months back, one of the blokes in work telling me of “a fine little shop,  next door to that student kip;” his words, not mine. You could be fogiven for missing the place, the narrow frontage often disguised by the busses parked outside. Attached to Doyles, this place often gets by-passed and forgotten about but not anymore with me. If I’m thirsty and in this part of town, I’ll be sure to drop into Bowes again. Definitely not what I was expecting, having been told that this is an “old-mans-pub,” no spit-and-sawdust nor tobacco stained walls anywhere to be seen, just a quiet, well kept, lovely pub, with  couples chatting quietly over pints and a few more tables occupied by stragglers, quietly reading the days news before joining the Sunday evening exodus out of the city. Pints rang in at €4.50 and were more than acceptable. I don’t know what to say about this place really, I know nothing of its history, I’d never been here before and was relying purely on the recommendation of a friend but I really liked it. It is certainly a “home-y” sort of a place, very relaxed in atmosphere and everyone seemed to be on first name terms with the lady behind the bar. I was delighted to hear a bit of music start up in the other corner, starting off with a lone Uileann Piper, one of my favourite instruments, I’d love to pick a cheap set up but apparently there’s no such thing as a cheap set, the things cost a bloody fortune. If there’s one good thing to come out of this little experiment of ours, we’ll all have the ability to walk through the streets of Dublin and say “I know a lovely spot not too far away” no matter where we are.  I have a feeling I might not be too far away from Bowes tomorrow evening, I might drop in and see if the pints are still as good…

So, the end of the night was upon us, and a communal visit to Supermacs for their snack-box special and we we’re off. Another five pubs down, making it thirty four or so we’ve reviewed already, and many, many more to go.

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The Charge of the Light Brigade (1854) at the Battle of Balaclava during the Crimean War remains one of the most infamous events in military history.

It may come as a surprise to some people to learn that the fabled bugle that sounded the charge was not only made in Dublin but was sounded by a Dubliner.

The bugle was made at J.McNeill’s on Capel Street. McNeill’s was a celebrated music shop that started off operating from 148 Capel Street in 1834. Six years later, the business moved to number 137 before settling in a couple of doors down at number 140 in 1842. It traded from this spot for 162 years before relocating to Kilrush Co. Clare in 2004. (The premises is now a pub named McNeills)

From the 'Official Catalogue: Dublin International Exhibition of Arts and Manufactures 1865'

The man believed to have sounded the charge was Dubliner William ‘Billy’ Brittain of the 17th Lancers, Orderly Bugler to Lord Cardigan, the commander of the Light Brigade. Though it is agreed that Billy sounded the “walk”, “trot” and “gallop”, it should be noted that there has been ongoing debate whether the final order of “charge” was actually sounded. Brittain was mortally wounded during the charge and died, still clutching the bugle, in Florence Nightingale’s Hospital in Scutari, Istanbul a few months later.

Brittain's Bugle

The battered bugle remained in possession of Brittain’s family until 1905 when it sold to a publican, James Baker, in Newscastle to be displayed in his pub, The Percy Arms. In 1964, it turned up for action at Sotheby’s in London and fetched £1600. The buyers were Ed Sullivan, the American TV showman and Laurence Harvey, the Lithuanian born English actor.

After repairs and restoration, the pair presented the bugle to the Queen’s Royal Lancers – formed from the original 17th Lancers – to be placed on display at their regimental museum in Belvoir Castle, Leicestershire where it remains to this day.

Alexanders Toy Soldiers are selling a miniature, hand painted figurine of William 'Billy' Brittain for £39.99

References:
– Dutton, Roy. Forgotten Heroes: The Charge of the Light Brigade. Wirral, 2007.
– McNeills Music Shop, Facebook page

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Nice to see the Dublin Flea Market, which I plugged here just before Christmas (and hopefully guided at least one of you away from that Easons/Topman voucher ‘idea’), has a beautiful new website up online which you can check out here

Every month a different artist designs the Flea Market poster, which you can then purchase yourself for five yoyos.

I’m keeping a space on the back of the door for one of those Larkin efforts, fantastic. History nerds like me will no doubt get a giggle out of Parnell calling it a “great affair” too. I, for one, ‘see what they did there’.

Anyway, the March effort is an expanded one, with 20 extra slots available.You can apply over here.

It has happened TWICE now on Come Here To Me pubcrawls that I hear how good the market that day was from someone else. We’re ‘last Sunday of the month’ people too, you see. Only recently James R of Soundtracks For Them walked into Neds with a few records he’d picked up before joining us, and I’m pretty sure even my Ma has got to one so far.

I really enjoyed Independents Day up at Newmarket (where the Flea takes place) so I figure I’ll get along to the next one without a doubt. I’ll even forgive them for putting a picture of a Diana camera on the website. You know the ones, the lovely plastic things in Urban Outfitters that you can’t find film for anywhere (PLEASE educate me if I’m wrong…) this side of JFK Airport.


Dublin Flea Market
The last Sunday of the Month
The Co-Op Newmarket

Facebook

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"60 million have died already. Smash The Reds" - Liffey St. March 2010

This vandalised Communist Party of Ireland (CPI) poster was spotted on Liffey Street last week, ironically just beside the Soviet themed Pravda bar.

Reports that the Tankies have already started to stockpile weapons and barricade Connolly Books on East Essex Street, to preempt a repeat of the 1933 attack and burning of Connolly House, have not yet been corroborated.

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They say it’s a fine line between genius and madness and I reckon Behan made a good attempt at finding the middle ground.

Now here’s a good one; I have few heros (or, as Public Enemy said,  “Most of my heroes don’t appear on no stamps,”) but I unashamedly pronounce Brendan Behan one of mine. Never one to be shy, he announced freely in the media that he was an unavowed and unabashed communist. Now, I suppose this was likely to draw some deal of attention to him considering the second Red Scare was in full swing in 1957. What you wouldn’t expect is for him to be bugged by MI5. But bugged he was, as records released today show and I’d love to hear some of the recordings as the man himself was pronounced as “A little mad, or a little drunk” by the officer investigating the case. We, of course, know that he was a good dollop of both.

Mona Lisa

An Fear féin

It was a call to Barbara Niven, editor of Communist Party of Great Britain’s paper, the Daily Worker that attracted MI5 attention. The MI5 officer consistently misspells Behan’s Christian name as Brandon in the transcripts.

“He said he had his mother with him. Did Barbara understand him? Barbara said she did not understand him. Brandon said he was going to give a subscription to the Daily (Worker) for a year.”

“Barbara said that was wonderful. Brandon said he understood that canvassing was very bad. Brandon said could he call around to see her. Barbara said she was very busy as she was writing something which had to be finished by that evening.

“Brandon said he wanted to give the money to her himself and he wanted to see her because he was a first-class man and no one would call for him. Not even his own class would talk to him, he said,” the officer wrote.

“He said he had got the embassy working for him. He hoped that they would get him a plane.”

“He wanted to go home to Ireland where he lived. His brother Brian had dragged his name in the mud by his interview in the Daily Express,” the officer wrote, adding, “I assumed Brandon was either a little mad, or drunk.”

As well as songwriters and storytellers, the Behan clan were always great painters and signwriters.

I can only imagine a high paid civil servant sitting in a top-secret office somewhere in London trying to decypher the conversation; was it some form of uncracked code? Who is “mother“? And what of this “embassy“? I wonder how long it took them to realise the man was just twisted and leary. They say its a fine line between genius and madness and I reckon Behan made a good attempt at finding the middle ground. And I doubt many will disagree.

(Míle buíochas le mo dheartháir Liam chun fáil airteagal seo.)

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A trip to Saint Patricks Athletic F.C (Inchicore) versus Galway United F.C, as League of Ireland football returns to Dublin for a new season

Every second week before the Euro

Nice to be back really.

I remember as a child being taken to see Saint Patricks Athletic in a stadium you could only describe as electric. The camac standing area directly opposite the stand would be a red, white and yellow explosion of colour, and a flare in the shed and deafening roar awaited that first goal in that game. The 90s were brilliant times for the domestic game, not just in Inchicore but on the Northside too, were local football could draw in considerable crowds and at least a handful of your classmates got it. Unlike the ‘Who are yis’ in the class we had chosen our teams purely on the grounds of geography and as such were all (literally) singing from the one sheet. We, quite literally, meant we. Us and our next door neighbours.

Still, a hard rain fell on the League of Ireland. A really hard rain. A flood even. The old man would still take us to home matches and car trips to Drogheda, north of the liffey and suburbs of Wicklow, but the religious nature of going stopped. You go from missing a few games to missing half a season. I’m incredibly grateful there’s a younger Fallon to catch the bug and get us back down.

Anyway, to say Saint Patricks Athletic had a woeful season last year would be an understatement on par with ‘the economy is looking a bit shakey’.

Back from under the stairs for a new season

Getting into the ground a bit late I hear the sound of a trumpet. A fucking trumpet. A quick glance and it’s coming from the Galway United away supporters. A small but loyal band of followers, and mainly youngsters, you can take it some of these lads left the schoolyard a bit early to travel up, just as some of the young lads down the far end of the crowd would for a trip to Cork or Belfast. There’s a passion there that doesn’t come across well on the telly.

“United, we love you, we love you…
and where you go we’ll follow, we’ll follow, we’ll follow….”

I’m too busy looking at the one man trumpet show to see the build up to the goal that puts Pats in the lead. Then it happens. The home support lights up.

I spot four good sized large tifo flags, a flare in the middle of it, and a few hundred fans going mad like Pats had won the league, not just scored the first goal of their first League match.

It’s not until half-time rolls around that you realise what a community thing the league is in Ireland. I’ve heard and seen the same at Dalymount, Turners Cross, that kip in Drumcondra and other stadiums. Your man who is emigrating to America next Monday (“No sorry folks, it’s Tuesday. He’s leaving on Tuesday. Good luck to him”) gets a mention over the P.A, the Palmerstown and Clondalkin under 12s come on the pitch and have a kick around, a bucket goes around for the local old folks and whatever else. The club is at the heart of the community, and the youngsters scoffing the (bloody awful) hotdogs into themselves now will hopefully be the ones bringing their kids here down the line.

Coming soon to a Dublin shed near you.

When the whistle goes, and Pats take the 2 goals and 3 points away from this one, the shed (where the away support are based) erupts into one last defiant chant: “United! United!”

They’ve travelled across the country for this. When the matches fall that way, a similar sized band will do the same in reverse. I feel terrible for falling out of the habit, but after tonight- I reckon I’m hooked again. The odd trip down last year isn’t good enough, you’d wonder why you’d miss a game….

Bohemian F .C (Phibsboro) fans make a point about corporate football to Red Bull Salzburg

Will the game grow in this city? I don’t know to be honest. There’s no way I can see a return to the glory days, but at the same time shenanigans on the otherside of the pond have shown British football up as the emotional wasteland that it is.

You can Love United, Hate Glazer as much as you want, but you’ll never love United in the way that lad on the trumpet loves United.

The United he shares a home with.

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Land League banner in The Longstone

One of our stops on the last pubcrawl (the review is yet to be finished- this weekend hopefully!) was The Longstone pub in Townsend Street. I won’t say too much about the place apart from the fact that we liked it and were taken aback by the decor; for the walls were adorned with what look like original Union banners dating from the late 19th Century. One that caught our attention was the one above, a banner with the words “Kinlough,” “Down With Landlordism,” “Union is Strength” and “Branch in League” painted on it, along with a picture of Michael Davitt. Now my knowledge of the Land League isn’t the best but I do know that the bottom part of Michael Davitts right arm was amputated at a young age after he got it caught in a cog wheel while working in a cotton mill, yet here he is in his resplendant glory with both arms intact! (Although it took me until I got home and looked at the pictures closely to realise that- the paint is very faint, and therefore could well depict Charles Stewart Parnell!)

Anyways. A little known fact about Davitt is he was invited to lay the centre turf at Celtic Park at the clubs inauguration in 1888. Thieves sneaked in that night and stole the very sod he lay, giving inspiration to the poem that begins:

“The curse of Cromwell blast the hand that stole the sod that Michael cut; May all his praties turn to sand – the crawling, thieving scut.”

Old man, old banner.

We mused how the banners got there and whether they were original or not. Now I was under the impression that this place had been in the hands of the same family for generations but apparently not- The Longstone, though it looks as if it’s been there forever, has changed hand a few times over the last couple of decades. The lady behind the bar was unable to shed any light on the situation, other than saying she always believed them to be originals.

Amalgamated Society of Tailors

We’d love to get a history of these banners, I’ll be mailing the folks from the Longstone anyways and will keep people posted about anything I hear. Alternatively, if anyone knows anything about them, drop us a line on here!

The Davitt banner in.. full.

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I’ve been in to Saint Patrick’s Institution and Mountjoy Jail over the last few days with Maser (amazing Dublin graffitti artist) and Johnny Moy (legendary dublin DJ), we were sussing out walls that Maser can spraypaint some of my lyrics on in there, some positive lines for the inmates. I saw where Kevin Barry was hanged and got to hit the old triangle……Maser’s doing workshops and paintings in both places and is getting prisoners to help him with these pieces teaching them some of his skills as he goes along and he’ll probably get some lines off the inmates aswell to spraypaint around the place. This is all part of a project that meself and Maser and Johnny are working on called ‘They Are Us’ (details and pictures will be up on the website soon about it)

-From DamienDempsey.com

An interesting one this. We still get plenty of hits from people confused about that great Maser piece down by Busaras on The Good Bits (Damien Dempsey gives me HOPE) and if you follow the blog you’ll know I’m a massive fan of Damien, from the days of They Don’t Teach This Shit In School to his current buzz.

I take any and every chance to see Dempsey live – from a pisser of a day in Farmleigh to in his element bringing down the house at the Civic Centre in Tallaght- he has yet to dissapoint me in a live setting. His fan base, mainly young, sing every line back to him with a passion you wouldn’t dare question.

Anyway, the above mentioned project between Maser and Damien sounds fascinating to me. Damien notes on his website that this concert will hopefully “raise money for the materials maser will need for his pieces around the city” so for that alone I think it is worth attending. I still smile everytime I pass that piece on The Good Bits.

Damien actually does give me hope for this city and the youth of it.

Damien Dempsey
March 12th
The Good Bits
7:30PM
Tickets: 15e

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The Irish Women Workers Union. Liberty Hall.

Over the last couple of years, it’s been fantastic to see International Womens Day marked properly in Dublin. While it seems there is a wide range of events planned this year to mark the occasion, ranging from a showing of the fantastic I Was A Teenage Feminist as part of the (very much free) Progressive Film Club to the ever-popular and highly regarded Feminist Walking Tour hosted by Choice Ireland, the RAG collective and the Lashback collective (and more on that below), the event that’s grabbed my attention is undoubtedly the ‘Take Back The Night’ march planned for Tuesday night.

Event Poster

The march/vigil will meet at 7pm on Tuesday at the front square of the University.

Take Back the Night (also known as Reclaim the Night) is an internationally-held march and vigil that is organised with the purpose of unifying women, men, and children in awareness of sexual violence and rape. TBTN is about taking a stand against violence and making the night safe for everyone.

The event at Trinity is one part of many events being organised in honour of International Women’s Day. It will include speakers from the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre, One in Four, an Irish based support service for women and men who have experienced sexual abuse/violence, and Amnesty International, an international human rights organisation.

As a protest and indeed direct action against sexual assault and rape, Take Back The Night marches have occured all over the world in cities, towns and Universities.

As for the Choice Ireland/RAG/Lashback walking tour, I have to confess to not getting along to either of the previous Feminist Walking Tours of Dublin, despite hearing nothing but praise for both tours. Dublin has a tremendous social history with so many female figures neglected from popular history, but none the less inspiring. From the women who led the anti-apartheid actions at Dunnes Stores to the women of the Labour and Republican movements, there is a hidden history just below the surface. Hopefully the walking tour will help fill in some of the blanks for those who attend!

I should stress these are but two events occuring to mark the day and the week around it. Be sure to look around for more events, for example by checking the event guide on Indymedia.

Choice Ireland/Rag/Lashback Feminist Walking Tour
This Sunday, 1 pm.
Meet at the Central Bank , Dame Street.


Take Back The Night Vigil
Next Tuesday, 7PM
Front Square of TCD

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Before Dublin’s Feminist Walking Tour on Sunday (see dfallon’s post above for more information), why not head down to the Spire at midday to hear Eamonn Campbell and others sing in honour of ‘Mad Mary’, the beloved Dublin street character who danced on O’Connell Street from the late 1970s to 2002. Due to a deteriorating eyesight Mary has had to hang up her dancing shoes and move back into her family home.

A facebook page called ‘WHO REMEMBERS THE WOMAN THAT DANCED ON O CONNELL ST BESIDE THE ANNA LIVIA’ has already attracted over 14,000 fans. The growth of the page and the flood of comments wishing her well has also prompted articles in the Irish Daily Mail and The Star in recent days. Though she might have been known for her conservative catholic views, no one can deny her importance in the social history of the capital.

Mad Mary, the dancing woman of O'Connell Street.

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A classic Dublin new wave single from a band called Spies (1978 – 80) from Howth.

Joey Barry, the lead singer, was later in the Thee Amazing Colossal Men. The guitarist, Gerry Leonard, later went on to become David Bowie’s musical director and lead guitar player.

I’ve recently uploaded the A side ‘Thinking About The Sun’ from their first and only single.

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Right… Before we get anyone on mumbling about “waste of tax payers money… etc,” we really didn’t expect what happened to happen… The following is the work of DMcHugh, and is a quick anecdote about what happened last Friday. My additions are in italics!

Yes, a fire engine just like this

Feet are shit. They’re slow, they’re tender and if they pick up even a slight injury and then you’re stranded; marooned. Which is why I love my bike. Not in the ostentatious, fixed gear and no brakes way, but as an indispensable part of my life. So when I don’t have my bike, because of puncture or more serious damage, I’m pretty upset. But I wouldn’t call it an emergency. And I definitely wouldn’t expect anyone else to to call it that either. But that’s what happened on Friday night…

It was a crap lock. A 30 euro one I got because it looked tough and was cheaper than most. But like so many other locks, the real catch is the lock itself- does it jam, does it twist, does it break the key off? Which is exactly what happened. A few beers and a night in the cold left my patience thin and the metal sluggish. hXci’s patience was
thinner still and he took the keys off me, to loose the bloody thing. The keys came back but the lock stayed put, half the key stuck in there, and my bike was left to wait out the cold night on its own.

Before and after work, we plied it with pliers and pared away two hacksaw blades, transforming them into toothless breadknives, but it was stubborn, not moved by clumsy grabs or sharp words. A tip from Google Buzz (thanks Andrew!) had suggested the fire brigade, and I called them up. They didn’t just cut it for me, (we expected one man in a jeep to show up with a pair of boltcutters;) they sent a whole bloody fire-engine along, flashing siren and stocked with four big fellas and all manners of equipment. They cut the thing there and then, hopped back into the wagon and chased off into the sunset, off to do proper fireman work, or maybe just back to the station for a cup of tea.

So hot tip, buy a proper lock, with a solid mechanism and strong keys. And should the worst happen anyway, you can ring the fire department office to come and rescue you, if you can live with the embarassment and the joke (I-hope-it’s-a-joke-) 500 yos call out charge.

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