the great wen: five
DESCRIPTION
e magazineTRANSCRIPT
ONCE, in this land long ago, there did dwell a dog called Wend. A large, black,
hunting dog, afraid of nought and called this name because o’er the land he did wend. He wended far and wide by star and smell in search of mainly food and love. His sturdy legs did take him to the very world’s edge and he did fight with wolves and monsters on the way. He journeyed high and low from lofty crag to stony desert.
Though ’twas in a water-meadow sweet that one day a tick called Sorry did jump upon his ear. This tick was called that name for ev-ery time Wend’s blood it sucked it whispered in his ear a sorry. Soon with all the sorry sucking,
NO 1
The city skyline extinguishes earlier this evening
“God help us, God help all of us, every one, all of us”or The London Sinister Exaggerator
TH
E SU N M A Y O N L Y B E R IS IN
G BE
CA
US
E THE SHIP WE SAIL IS SIN
KING
.
. .
.
. .
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@EXCERPT OF ADDRESS FROM CHIEF SECHELE DELIVERED FROM THE MANSION HOUSE BALCONY RE: IMPENDING CONFLICT
r theed in ve.
theght
n thght
n thght
eow rt.
spsorry. S
sprry. S
spoon with all rry. S
thrry. S
thrry. Se sorry sucking,
this tick grew large. The noble dog though paid no heed, for it was strong and kind and carried its host – although it sucked and sucked – with no complaint.
Till one day the tick did suck and not say sorry but instead it said, “I will drink you up.” Thereupon it drunk and drunk. It drunk and drunk but got so fat that right off the ear it fell, where-upon Wend’s hard and scaly feet did crush the
tick as they padded
on. On the ground the tick did lie and die, as from its ungrate-ful grey and leathery bod Wend’s blood did drain. “Sorry,” it did say one last time. But Wend had wended and Sorry was only sorry for itself.
before its timely evacuation
After withstAnding over-whelming opposition, plucky fort AiwA finAlly fell to the enemy this morning.
Since 4.30am yesterday, Surrey rebels shelled the government out-post, continuing the bombardment until nearly midnight. Though the fort exchanged fire, it became clear late last night that it could take no further punishment. It was then that a small flotilla was dispatched from Greenwich in the early hours – swelled en route by many of Lon-don’s more humble river-going craft – to rescue the beleaguered garrison’s incumbents.
The river fort, positioned mid-stream in the Thames at Isleworth, is of immense strategic importance, guarding as it does, the river entrance to Surrey’s capital, Richmond. Its evacuation and capture now puts Sur-rey in an advantageous position. But at what cost to the breakaway state? It starts a conflagration that ultimately only the Wen can win.
Spurred on by their initial suc-cess, we hear the rebel army massed in Richmond are scouting suitable Thames crossing places from which they hope to quickly launch an inva-sion. However, all along vast stretches of the river’s northern bank the city stands prepared. Bridges are blown, earthworks are up, and mile upon mile of Chevaux-de-Frise face Sur-reywards. TA stand shoulder to shoul-der with Communards, Apprentice Boys and LDV – watching and wait-ing. Behind them throngs the popu-lace. Whipped to a resolute frenzy by the stirring oration of Chief Sechele, the capital’s heart beats to the rhythm of impending war. Not for the masses the waiting game – they want to take the fight to Surrey. And all through the city the same chant is heard – the righteously intoxicated populace scream with one shrill voice:
“To Richmond, To Richmond...”
LI T
TL
E C
OD
GER W
ITH
A
SM
ILE
A F
UN
NY SMILE, FIVE FEET NONE HE’S AN ARTFU
L L
ITT
LE DO
DG
ER W
IT
H A SMILE A FUN
NY
OLDS CONSTANTLY SELECTING AND ARRANGING WORDS PURELY FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF MANKIND
NO 1
“THE ONE AEROPLANE AIR-FORCE they call Big Mig will soon be patrolling the skies. Flown by London’s only fighter pilot Ian ‘Big Igg’ Gabby-Gib-bons, it carries Horsecrippler air-to-surface missiles and op-erates a RAASAAA (Roving Around And Shooting Arbi-trarily At Anything) policy, en-suring one chilling sight to
friend and enemy alike.
IN READINESS for any hostilities the Chameo-loplane has attached red, white and blue plywood roundels to its wings and fuselage. Sadly, however, last Fri-day one of the roundels became detached as the plane fl ew over Hyde Park, and spun to the ground, slicing the hand off an off-duty police of-ficer en route.
THE FOG that has covered the east of the city for the last two weeks, moved yesterday, a quarter of a mile south-west.
56 C
orne
y Ro
adCh
iswic
kLo
ndon
W4
2RA
Inte
r-Cre
dit I
nter
natio
nal L
td2n
d Fl
oor
Sout
h Po
int H
ouse
,32
1 Ch
ase
Road
Sout
hgat
eLo
ndon
N14
6JT
26.1
1.11
Case
no
6020
98Pa
ymen
t Ref
: 538
1576
Dea
r K K
ing
Re: £
175,
000
Out
stand
ing
to y
our c
lient
New
s Int
erna
tiona
l Con
tribu
tions
Ltd
.
As s
tate
d in
a p
revi
ous e
mai
l bef
ore
any
paym
ent i
s mad
e I w
ould
like
a b
alan
ce st
atem
ent.
(Ple
ase
see
OFT
Deb
t Col
lect
ion
Gui
danc
e. U
nfai
r Bus
ines
s Pra
ctic
es. 2
.2b
and
2.2e
).
Your
s sin
cere
ly
Tim
Har
rison
56 C
orne
y Ro
adCh
iswic
kLo
ndon
W4
2RA
Inte
r-Cre
dit I
nter
natio
nal L
td2n
d Fl
oor
Sout
h Po
int H
ouse
,32
1 Ch
ase
Road
Sout
hgat
eLo
ndon
N14
6JT
26.1
1.11
Case
no
6020
98Pa
ymen
t Ref
: 538
1576
Dea
r K K
ing
Re: £
175,
000
Out
stand
ing
to y
our c
lient
New
s Int
erna
tiona
l Con
tribu
tions
Ltd
.
As s
tate
d in
a p
revi
ous e
mai
l bef
ore
any
paym
ent i
s mad
e I w
ould
like
a b
alan
ce st
atem
ent.
(Ple
ase
see
OFT
Deb
t Col
lect
ion
Gui
danc
e. U
nfai
r Bus
ines
s Pra
ctic
es. 2
.2b
and
2.2e
).
Your
s sin
cere
ly
Tim
Har
rison
56 C
orne
y Ro
adCh
iswic
kLo
ndon
W4
2RA
Inte
r-Cre
dit I
nter
natio
nal L
td2n
d Fl
oor
Sout
h Po
int H
ouse
,32
1 Ch
ase
Road
Sout
hgat
eLo
ndon
N14
6JT
26.1
1.11
Case
no
6020
98Pa
ymen
t Ref
: 538
1576
Dea
r K K
ing
Re: £
175,
000
Out
stand
ing
to y
our c
lient
New
s Int
erna
tiona
l Con
tribu
tions
Ltd
.
As s
tate
d in
a p
revi
ous e
mai
l bef
ore
any
paym
ent i
s mad
e I w
ould
like
a b
alan
ce st
atem
ent.
(Ple
ase
see
OFT
Deb
t Col
lect
ion
Gui
danc
e. U
nfai
r Bus
ines
s Pra
ctic
es. 2
.2b
and
2.2e
).
Your
s sin
cere
ly
Tim
Har
rison
56 C
orne
y Ro
adCh
iswic
kLo
ndon
W4
2RA
Inte
r-Cre
dit I
nter
natio
nal L
td2n
d Fl
oor
Sout
h Po
int H
ouse
,32
1 Ch
ase
Road
Sout
hgat
eLo
ndon
N14
6JT
26.1
1.11
Case
no
6020
98Pa
ymen
t Ref
: 538
1576
Dea
r K K
ing
Re: £
175,
000
Out
stand
ing
to y
our c
lient
New
s Int
erna
tiona
l Con
tribu
tions
Ltd
.
As s
tate
d in
a p
revi
ous e
mai
l bef
ore
any
paym
ent i
s mad
e I w
ould
like
a b
alan
ce st
atem
ent.
(Ple
ase
see
OFT
Deb
t Col
lect
ion
Gui
danc
e. U
nfai
r Bus
ines
s Pra
ctic
es. 2
.2b
and
2.2e
).
Your
s sin
cere
ly
Tim
Har
rison
56 C
orne
y Ro
ad
Chisw
ick
Lond
on
W4
2RA
Inte
r-Cre
dit I
nter
natio
nal L
td
2nd
Floo
r
Sout
h Po
int H
ouse
,
321
Chas
e Roa
d
Sout
hgat
e
Lond
on
N14
6JT
26.1
1.11
Case
no
6020
98
Paym
ent R
ef: 5
3815
76
Dea
r K K
ing
Re: £
175,
000
Out
stand
ing
to y
our c
lient
New
s Int
erna
tiona
l Con
tribu
tions
Ltd
.
As s
tate
d in
a pr
evio
us em
ail b
efor
e any
pay
men
t is m
ade I
wou
ld li
ke a
bala
nce s
tate
men
t.
(Ple
ase s
ee O
FT D
ebt C
olle
ctio
n G
uida
nce.
Unf
air B
usin
ess P
ract
ices
. 2.2
b an
d 2.
2e).
Your
s sin
cere
ly
Tim
Har
rison
56 C
orne
y Ro
adCh
iswic
kLo
ndon
W4
2RA
Inte
r-Cre
dit I
nter
natio
nal L
td2n
d Fl
oor
Sout
h Po
int H
ouse
,32
1 Ch
ase
Road
Sout
hgat
eLo
ndon
N14
6JT
26.1
1.11
Case
no
6020
98Pa
ymen
t Ref
: 538
1576
Dea
r K K
ing
Re: £
175,
000
Out
stand
ing
to y
our c
lient
New
s Int
erna
tiona
l Con
tribu
tions
Ltd
.
As s
tate
d in
a p
revi
ous e
mai
l bef
ore
any
paym
ent i
s mad
e I w
ould
like
a b
alan
ce st
atem
ent.
(Ple
ase
see
OFT
Deb
t Col
lect
ion
Gui
danc
e. U
nfai
r Bus
ines
s Pra
ctic
es. 2
.2b
and
2.2e
).
Your
s sin
cere
ly
Tim
Har
rison
FRIEND OR FOE?FIVE MINUTES
AT THIS QUEER FLAG PEER
THEN TURN AND STARE AT PAPER
CLEAR
ILLUSTRIOUS ILLUSTRATOR Sir Blank Frangwyn opened his exhibition of ‘War Atrocities Yet To Be Committed’ to wild public acclaim at the Tooth and Claw Gallery yesterday. At one point, a queue snaked a mile long into Faux Knee Place with visitors eager to see such strik-ing works as ‘Skewered Nuns’ ‘Head Football’ and what is set to become a classic ‘Bubba on a Bayo.’
The powerful works brought powerful reactions. Many of the frailer sex wailed or fainted as did a number of less than man-ly men. It was even rumoured that on viewing ‘Evisceration of the Innocents’ at an earlier viewing, our most beloved and sensitive Queen Angelina shed a pretty tear. Sir Blank, when told of her distress, was said to be “gutted”.
REBELS HAVE FORDED THE THAMES, at Brent-ford and are now encamped upon the north bank. London’s army under the command of the Earl of Essex, heavily reinforced with trainbands and other diverse citizenry, march from Chelsea Fields this morn to engage them.
From our vantage point at the top of Charles Hocking House on the South Acton Estate, we saw at first light the bivouacked rebel vanguard through the spyglass of one of the local Home Guard, Sergeant Sachchit Snafu, who assured us that when the Earl arrives, “the rebs will have their soggy arses kicked all the way back to Slaveshire.”
OUR MOST ESTEEMED ruler Chief Sechele and Consorting Rulerine Queen Angelina of Crowvania have vowed to stay within the city walls until hostilities cease. “We’ll take anything those mothers can throw at us and more,” said Her Royal Highness. “Can stay, will stay,” added The Chief.
short walk this time. Green Park west side to Hyde Park Corner. 24 steps through an underpass.
We start at the entrance. In we go. A brief smell of piss and out we come. We’re here. That was it.
Hyde Park Corner – not a corner at all; an ellipse. A worn grass island, surrounded by traffic, bisected by a bike lane and cluttered with war memorials. But what actual destination, you may ask, demands so many words at the expense of such a titchy journey? Well, my unknown companion, we stand before one of the finest sculptural edifices our city owns. An exquisite monument of sad stiffness that has no equal. A memorial, yes, but a special one. This is Charles Jagger’s, newly restored, Royal Artillery Memorial.
But, before we get any closer I need to briefly acquaint you with Bob Dough.
Many years ago when Bob was young, he and I were form-mates. In the summer we were ten years old, before school term broke up, our entire class – and indeed every other class in London – was given by the government a silver sixpence. But this was not to spend. This was a special sixpence, minted to commemorate our great city’s victory in the War of The Sussex Succession. This coin was to keep. For its size it really was a marvellous thing – each side artfully crammed with triumphant words and deeds, all bound with scrolls and swirls and curlicues. I have mine yet, in its original box, still in mint condition, for as children we were sternly instructed to care for our new prizes. Bob Dough, however, desired to go one better. Being a competitive sort and a child that considered appearance of paramount importance, he decided to improve upon his gift. He would increase its shine – make it really sparkle, and stand out from the rest.
That night at home, he gathered polishes deemed most suitable for giving that fateful coin an extra lustre. In no particular quantity or order, Silvo, Brasso, Duraglit and Vim were all applied. Then began a sustained period of polishing and buffing, vigorously administered by an eclectic variety of materials ranging in texture from fluffy duster to abrasive Brillo. And, knowing Bob, the effort applied to this tiny token would have been immense. His lack of guile was more than compensated by his extra gusto. As our form-master had remarked in his end of term report – one that Bob had proudly showed to all – “In education’s rigorous road race, Robert pedals furiously a bicycle stuck permanently in lowest gear.”
Presenting his improved sixpence next day in class we agreed as one that his coin was indeed the shiniest – though, sadly, its sheen came at a price. For as a result of his idiosyncratic improvement procedure Bob had all but erased both sides of his gleaming memento – reducing delicate markings and gentle contours to an irregular, bumpy swirl of abrasions. But proud Bob grinned at us triumphantly. Its brightness was indisputable.
Though I have lost contact with Bob for many years and have sometimes wondered what became of a classmate who would always find life difficult, it transpires, as I walk towards the aforementioned war memorial, that he is now in happy employment. For it appears the good men and women entrusted to protect this work of art have seen fit to commission a unique style of restoration, requiring a singular skill that only Bob Dough can supply. And from the striking new patchwork effect of light and dark stone panels, it becomes evident on closer inspection that Bob has concentrated his skills only on the memorial’s most delicate carvings. One can also see, if one compares his efforts to photos of the unrestored originals, that his enthusiasm and strength are still very much alive. But one day Bob’s tireless arms will stop forever and who will then tend his humble headstone? I fear that he and even his bold employers are destined to suffer the same fate as the fragile friezes of the Royal Artillery Memorial and be very soon all but forgotten...
promenadin’ with
OLDS CONSTANTLY SELECTING AND ARRANGING WORDS PURELY FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF MANKIND
ar r i On
eed s
“THROUGH THE FLUE and straight down the bowl of the salty lav.” That is how night watchman Oldma-nsname Perkins described the first direct hit on the capital. “One min I’m in me lodge a kip, the next, no Fish Abyss there ain’t”.
The bomb sank almost to the bottom of the ill-fated marine aquarium before exploding and rupturing the circular tank’s wall. According to a shocked and uncharacteristically blunt Prof. Soames Nomencla-ture, the museum superintendent, “The shell not only knocked the fuck out of the museum but, by exploding within the aquarium, became the catalyst for the release into the city’s sewers of a small to moderate sea of toxic shite, containing incalculable tons of rotting sea creatures, a recently-identified in-destructible strain of killer eels and five, poor, dead buggers in a diving bell”.
I Care for Lissy
WHILST REBELS CROSSED the river into Brentford, crack gov-ernment forces crossed the other way specifically to immobilise the artillery that has been firing upon the city. A surprise attack ensued, followed by bloody hand to hand combat, resulting in the cap-ture of fi ve cannon, two powder monkeys and a singed horse.
LONDON’S FAVOU-RITE drummer boy became the wars yougest casualty yestersometime. He was fl eeing from brentford with the rest of the overrun garri-son when he was shot in the back-side - his assailant scoring a bullseye. The bullet was later remocved sudssfi lly but it will be months of painful, down-ward facing horizontalcov-elescencebefore the lad is up and drummimg
DONATING AT LEAST a few tiles to the war effort is a duty not a choice. That’s the mes-sage from the government in a bold new initiative called The Few Tiles Scheme, in which the public are asked to bring whatever ceramic fl oor or roof cov-erings they can spare, to one of 20 Tile Tips currently being established throughout the capital. Any tiles collected will be taken to the front for use as auxiliary weapons in the event of a ‘too few guns for too many soldiers’ scenario.
Said The Few Tiles Scheme’s supremo, Colonel Tim Sur-Vert, “The common or garden house-hold tile can be a perfectly lethal ‘projectile’ when propelled with force and preci-sion. In future, the leaky roof or pot-holed garden path will be the sign of a truly conscientious citizen.”
The angel of death is abroad throughout the la
nd you can
alm
ost h
ear
the
beat
ing
of h
is w
ings
T
E N
E O
DA H S B O D H O G O T H
L
N;
O C
N
LO
T ER T
E
ET
N O
HS G
T
e n
e o
da h s b o d h o g o T h
l
n;
o c
nl
oT er T
e
eT
n o
hs g
T H I N AIR
AB
LE
SH
ITEN
ESS OF S
PY
I NG
‘up u
p and
awa
y
in m
y r
econna
issace balloon’
JU
ST RELEASED...
SHINgIGERYFully Clothed Staircase Piss Trio take the stage at Dodgy tonight, bombardments permitting. Scrimpers hosts Penniless whilst Chafed Fundament welcomes back The Pes-saries. Vera Lynn starts a month of Mon-days at Wardour Street’s Marquee – backed as always by John Coghlan’s Diesel.
Tues sees Muse at Mars supporting Manky Donkey while the Royal Artillery Big Band play The 12 Bar Club (timed tickets only).
It’s couples night at West Ken’s snooty Doublets on Wednesday, starring So and So. Free entry for twins in identical dress. No trainers or triplets.
Day of Thor sees Unreliable Narrator play Scribes East supported by Unreliable Reader. Bar food and lightshow – or maybe not.
Fri features Flack at Flim Flam while Sat sees Spiv at Shady Ladies.
And Sam’s in Ham hosts Gun on Sun.
Oh, ‘e’s little, but he’s wise;‘E’s a terror for ‘is size, An’-’e-does-not-advertise-Do yer, Bobs?
TWO NIGHTS ONLY
EX Q U I S I T E I NCE N D I A R I E S
HIGH
❤ ❤wArLiKe OnEs To WaTcH Sten Gun Ripley, Vallhalla Hat Check Girl, Swivel Chair Deciders, Dute of Cawly, Sodden Culloden, Jacobite Jihad, Pokery Jiggery, Powder Monkees and Scions Fed By Flunkies.
sYnThEtIcS Waxings well depleted this month due to plastic rationing – all platters to be pressed in cardboard and sprayed with Vinalette® (max 15 plays) – so buy wise.
And from a measly batch, heres the gem: Eed Aud and Elsie’s, Resist Not Evil: But Who-soever Shall Smite Thee On Thy Right Cheek, Turn To Him The Other Also Whilst Simulta-neously Giving Him A Sly Poke Down Below. A hummer and no mistake...
ICEUM B
ALLROOM
Great Kent Wars. Holding the line. Remembered until forgotten...
Great Kent Wars. Holding the line. Remembered until forgotten...
Guilty pleasure? Staying alive.
How do you relax? Airfix kits, hotknife hits.
advice for out of towners? Don’t attempt to climb the stairs at Covent Garden tube with a full pack and bladder.
fave war lyric? Naked, an army towel covering my belly,some of us weep, some of us howl, knees turn to jelly.
fave war? War isn’t fun. War spelt back-wards is raw – not many civvies know that.
Mayor for tHe day? I’d clear the bloody beatniks from the steps of Eros.
fave daub?I remember at the battle of Maidstone, a check-shirted, sallow faced, fifth columnist was dragged into the street to be summarily executed by a passing brass hat. As the gun was aimed at the poor blight-er’s temple, I begged them to stop, which they thankfully did. Whereupon I hastily set up my easel and arranged my palette. The two of them then re-held the pose for another 40 minutes until I had a servi-cable rough. The whole episode was most advantageous to all. The finished picture became a national treasure, the general went on to be knighted and our friend the en-emy lived 40 minutes longer than he had at first expected.
least fave war artist? Linda Kitson – draws like a ruddy Emin .Hill? Highgate. food? I like to eat a big fat frog sit-ting on a rock in the wilderness minding its own business, just before a helicopter winches me to safety.
How do you relax? A laugh and a pint with Don McCullin.
faGs? Senior Service.
starbucks or slauGHters? Coffee’s coffee. I drink anything at the front. I once drank a sol-dier’s piss in the year of the Great Viking Beverage Blockade.
Quote tHat inspires in tiMes of fear and stress?
I’m-a eat ya food up, boo I could bust your 8, I’m-a do one too, Fuck ya gon’ do?’
Absolutely marvellous. I do take my hat off to the young.
Stan ScribblyFrom the Great Kent Wars to postcode posse
punch-ups, spunky Stan has sketched them all . Soon London’s finest war artist will be in action again.
But just what makes him load his busy brush?
quick. Assistant coracling it back copped a cannon ball a few feet from home. Had to paint the whole blummin’ shooting match again. But there it hangs in the Man-sion house today. When I see that painting, I still feel the thrill.
wHere does a war artist Go on His Hols? Hampstead – always feel more relaxed on higher ground.
fave war artist? Eddie Ardizonne – a broth-er brush that tells it like it is – but in a cuddly, no bloodly, snuggly buggly kind of way.
first london MeM? A shiny stream of crimson gouache, freshly spurted from its tube, snapped in mind’s eye mid-air, as it swoops to strike and stain incarnadine a pale beige page of pristine, infant art-class, sugar paper.
career HiGHliGHt? Great Kent Wars. K day. First wave to land on the Medway south bank. Ea-sel up and oils out in sec-onds. Arrows whipping round me. Men falling everywhere. Dead soldiers floating past like gangly boats. Hairy. Scary. Art ca-nary. Got it finished double
More talent than you can shake a hacked off head at! Yes, Theatreland’s finest converge at The Pantheon next week for vari-ety spectacular: No Sleep till Victory.
Bill toppers include: Bill Topper (tip top tap) Max Müller ( a laugh, a song and a latitudinarian innuendo) Danny and a Thousand Dancing Dogs (dog dancing) and HP and Saucy (hoof and smut). Also appear-ing are those performance artists ex-trordiniare: Flanagan and Allen, who, according to my spies, plan to sit onstage throughout the four-hour show, eating 16 helpings of powdered eel and mash (rations permitting), whilst dressed as legendary crooners Gilbert and George.
And from my eyrie in The Ivy, I can safely regurgitate the still warm titbit that the whole fandango finales with a Gang Show style singalong to the old Ramones classic: Glad To See You Go Go Go Goodbye, cul-minating in the war’s first captured rebel prisoner (Darth Biggs from Guildford) being discharged from the sphincter-shaped muzzle of a stage-front cannon up into the gods.
Compere: Brucie (natch). Funny walks and dances: Cleese and Gervy. House hoofers: The Young Generation, and making the maj with music: The Eddie Elgar Or-chestra. Ticks only avail on the night. Push in at your peril – a little birdy tells me Hells Angels, Windsor chapter are ‘doing security’.
the inevitable, impending atrocities. Penned by comedy duo Frivolous Cake (Alan Silitoe and Dennis Potter) and directed by Alexander Korda, The Barons Court Apostrophe Mystery starts filming next week.
The caper concerns, I gather from Al and Den, side-splitting shennanigans along the Piccadilly line, as funnyman Brian Kay (cast as comically-monikered Inspec-tor Clueless) tries to find ab-sent abbreviation answers at stops including Earl’s Court
(Barons Court’s snooty, apos-trophed-up near neighbour) and Ravenscourt Park (its saucy but enigmatic, unneces-sary-punctuation-eschewing, west London line-mate).
Introducing Alex Guinness as a young Will Hay and star-ring the legendary Will Hay as an ageing Alex Guinness.
Taster soundtrack out soon complete with guaranteed hummeroo: I Couldnt Do This Every Day, from Northern Family Down For The Week-end Who Get On For The Tower At Green Park.
‘Who stole the soul?’ asked Chuck D with righteous indignation on Public Enemy’s fantabulous Fear Of A Black Planet. But inquisitive though he was, what Chuck, nor indeed any other enquiring rapper ever asked was, ‘Who stole the apos-trophe from Barons Court?’
That singular query has re-mained largely unanswered, until - a chatty mole informs me - now. For work has begun on what is to be the biggest, bad-dest, musical comedy ever – one to help us smirk our way through
LON
DO
N
LON
DO
N
“The one duty we owe to history is to refight it”
go
odby-ee, goodby-ee, wipe the t
ea
r, baby dear, from your eye-ee