Wednesday 22 February 2012
Quick Poem: Jagged Edge
Out By the Station Walking on a jagged edge Cracking Lines running Up Buildings as we fast take on routes unaware, Walking along the Jagge d edge Because we can't see inside we have to guess, Thjats why we walk on A jAGGED eDGE! iNVISIBLE fORCE pULLS THE THING APART leaVING a JaGGeD EDgE.
Monday 20 February 2012
EXCLUSIVE! We meet Newport's Mr Average, The Man the United Nations has Dubbed 'The Most Normal Man in the World'!
As part of it's continuing program to plot the distribution of wealth and assess the health needs of the world's millions of children, UNESCO has designed a model which seeks to define a median on which can be placed the 'average' man and woman.
The average woman lives in Cape Town, but to the delight of we at Be Quaint Then die, The average man lives in Newport! Yes, UNESCO has decided that Stephen Pritchard, 36, of Fields Park Road is the most normal man in the world!
Stephen, or 'Steve' as he is known to his friends arranges to meet us in the grounds of Tredegar House where he walks his dog. How will we recognise the most normal man in the world? "I'll be wearing a red carnation," jokes Steve.
We meet Steve on a hot July morning and he is indeed wearing a red carnation! Beefy the dog, named after Ian Botham the ex-cricketer, who Steve thinks he vaguely resembles, sits patiently while his owner explains the impact the UNESCO 'accolade' has had on his life:
Steve, you are the most average or normal man in the world. How does that feel?
Different!
When did you first hear about this?
After the Wales/ Ireland match, my mate, Ray, texted me and said it was on Google news.
What was your first reaction?
Well I'd never heard of UNESCO, so I thought it was for my wife, she works in Tesco's!
Do you think you are normal or average, Steve?
I've never thought about it until now, yeah I suppose I am, but what's normal? What's normal to you, might not be the same as what's normal to the next bloke. What do they mean by normal, I dunno.
What do you do for a living Steve?
I work at the Stats.Office, IT mainly, I won't give you my full job title, it's a bit of a mouth full! I started work there in...let me think...1987... yeah that's it, long time but hey...it pays the bills!
Now we've got here some of the questions the UNESCO people asked you when you were tested for... er... normality. can you remember your replys?
Yes some of them, there was one about the car, Yes...I've got a Renault Megan! and some about the kids; There's Sarah whose 18 and Josh whose 24, and I have another son whose 30 I think....yeah he'd be 30 now, He lives in Belgium.
Really, you have a son in Belgium! What's his name? Do you ever see him?
Can we talk about that later?
Yeah...yes Steve, now another question you were asked..., actually a series of questions, was about your lifestyle..., I want to ask you about your family background, later, but this is the order that UNESCO wrote the questions
Ok, fire away Dan Dare! or should I say...er
What was the last music you bought or downloaded?
That's easy, Napalm Death, Zeke and Cannibal Corpse, yesterday, i tunes!
Who!?... Never heard of them... sounds like Metal...
Well yes, what did you expect me to like? Rhianna? Status Quo?
Its not very 'normal' is it?
I told them I liked that sort of music..that must of slipped through!
Ok, next question, Where do you buy your clothes?
Well I'm nearly 50 so its becoming a bit of a problem, I used to shop in Topshop and River Island, but I go to TK Max in Cardiff because of the range and its near Spillers Records!
Do you follow men's fashions?
Look I'm a computer geek, I don't have a clue anymore I've got a rough idea about style but I... my Wife and kids tell me if I look a complete pillock especially my daughter!...and my son for that matter.
Which one?
I said I didn't want to talk about him.
You said later. What's his name?
I'm not going to talk about him, it was a long time ago....
But it's not a long time ago, he's 30 and living in Belgium...
Listen, love, with your caked on make-up and your frumpy dress, I don't want to talk about him, ok?
listen to my eyes, Spartacus, follow the lead of the squirrels... If you can't exceed the speed limit, nobble your accelerator...
Sorry?... what are you talking about...I just asked you a simple question and you insulted me...what was all that other stuff?
Are you a poopy pant ,or are you a panty poo? Have you resolved the differences with your rubber aunty? Deafness always starts at Christmas, ask Melvyn Bragg...lift up a stone and find the holy crayon..muggle a kicklarsh and a firkit will alight...
Stop it Steve! Talk normally, that's what normal people are supposed to do! It's a bit scary..I want to ask you some questions about your family background, now if you don't want to answer just stop me..
Ok, Ping?
Steve where were you born?
Washing machine.
What?
I was born in Washing Machine, Just north of Spandau Ballet's Murmmy! I'm a purrnd!
Steve, are you ok you,ve gone a bit red in the face..
I'm a clinsh a garaaaaayshert a sploonedpoitucro!!
Oh shit, I don't know what to do!
MORE LATER
The average woman lives in Cape Town, but to the delight of we at Be Quaint Then die, The average man lives in Newport! Yes, UNESCO has decided that Stephen Pritchard, 36, of Fields Park Road is the most normal man in the world!
Stephen, or 'Steve' as he is known to his friends arranges to meet us in the grounds of Tredegar House where he walks his dog. How will we recognise the most normal man in the world? "I'll be wearing a red carnation," jokes Steve.
We meet Steve on a hot July morning and he is indeed wearing a red carnation! Beefy the dog, named after Ian Botham the ex-cricketer, who Steve thinks he vaguely resembles, sits patiently while his owner explains the impact the UNESCO 'accolade' has had on his life:
Steve, you are the most average or normal man in the world. How does that feel?
Different!
When did you first hear about this?
After the Wales/ Ireland match, my mate, Ray, texted me and said it was on Google news.
What was your first reaction?
Well I'd never heard of UNESCO, so I thought it was for my wife, she works in Tesco's!
Do you think you are normal or average, Steve?
I've never thought about it until now, yeah I suppose I am, but what's normal? What's normal to you, might not be the same as what's normal to the next bloke. What do they mean by normal, I dunno.
What do you do for a living Steve?
I work at the Stats.Office, IT mainly, I won't give you my full job title, it's a bit of a mouth full! I started work there in...let me think...1987... yeah that's it, long time but hey...it pays the bills!
Now we've got here some of the questions the UNESCO people asked you when you were tested for... er... normality. can you remember your replys?
Yes some of them, there was one about the car, Yes...I've got a Renault Megan! and some about the kids; There's Sarah whose 18 and Josh whose 24, and I have another son whose 30 I think....yeah he'd be 30 now, He lives in Belgium.
Really, you have a son in Belgium! What's his name? Do you ever see him?
Can we talk about that later?
Yeah...yes Steve, now another question you were asked..., actually a series of questions, was about your lifestyle..., I want to ask you about your family background, later, but this is the order that UNESCO wrote the questions
Ok, fire away Dan Dare! or should I say...er
What was the last music you bought or downloaded?
That's easy, Napalm Death, Zeke and Cannibal Corpse, yesterday, i tunes!
Who!?... Never heard of them... sounds like Metal...
Well yes, what did you expect me to like? Rhianna? Status Quo?
Its not very 'normal' is it?
I told them I liked that sort of music..that must of slipped through!
Ok, next question, Where do you buy your clothes?
Well I'm nearly 50 so its becoming a bit of a problem, I used to shop in Topshop and River Island, but I go to TK Max in Cardiff because of the range and its near Spillers Records!
Do you follow men's fashions?
Look I'm a computer geek, I don't have a clue anymore I've got a rough idea about style but I... my Wife and kids tell me if I look a complete pillock especially my daughter!...and my son for that matter.
Which one?
I said I didn't want to talk about him.
You said later. What's his name?
I'm not going to talk about him, it was a long time ago....
But it's not a long time ago, he's 30 and living in Belgium...
Listen, love, with your caked on make-up and your frumpy dress, I don't want to talk about him, ok?
listen to my eyes, Spartacus, follow the lead of the squirrels... If you can't exceed the speed limit, nobble your accelerator...
Sorry?... what are you talking about...I just asked you a simple question and you insulted me...what was all that other stuff?
Are you a poopy pant ,or are you a panty poo? Have you resolved the differences with your rubber aunty? Deafness always starts at Christmas, ask Melvyn Bragg...lift up a stone and find the holy crayon..muggle a kicklarsh and a firkit will alight...
Stop it Steve! Talk normally, that's what normal people are supposed to do! It's a bit scary..I want to ask you some questions about your family background, now if you don't want to answer just stop me..
Ok, Ping?
Steve where were you born?
Washing machine.
What?
I was born in Washing Machine, Just north of Spandau Ballet's Murmmy! I'm a purrnd!
Steve, are you ok you,ve gone a bit red in the face..
I'm a clinsh a garaaaaayshert a sploonedpoitucro!!
Oh shit, I don't know what to do!
MORE LATER
Saturday 18 February 2012
EXCLUSIVE! The Man Who HAS SLEPT WITH, EVERY WOMAN IN NEWPORT!!
Following 'The Bouncers' tv show, and the boasts of one of the bouncers that he had 'bedded' over 5000 women, we decided to find a Newport man who could beat that incredible figure. WE DID!
Gareth Morgan, of The Lodge, Caerleon does not want to be identified, but if he has slept with as many women as he says he has, there doesn't seem much point in granting him anonymity! According to Gareth, who works at the Celtic Manor, he has SLEPT WITH EVERY WOMAN IN NEWPORT, CWMBRAN AND PONTYPOOL!!
We had to meet this guy and arranged a date at The Ship Inn in Caerleon, where we could discuss this amazing feat. We send our female reporter Megan along, to see how our Newport 'Stud' works his magic!
Gareth Morgan arrives suitably late, with a bid grin on his face, "fame at last" he say, sipping his lager, "you're not from the BBC are you? We assure him we are not from the BBC and begin the interview with a few basic questions.
How old are you Gareth?
26 man and boy, darling, what about yourself gorgeous, 18?
No, Now you claim to have slept with every woman in Newport and Cwmbran and you are working your way through Pontypool, That would mean that you would have slept with, my Nan, my Mum, my older sister and me. I don't seem to remember this mind-blowing experience.
You had black lacy Ann Summers undies on and youv'e got a birthmark under your left breast.
No I have not!
Well that must've been your Nan then. she was a bit tricky, your Nan, I kept kicking the switch on the dialysis machine! She loved it though! She said it was like a 'near death experience', I suppose turning the pages in 'Peoples Friend' is a near death experience for somebody of that age!
I have to ask this. What was the age of the youngest woman you've slept with...?
Well I'm not a paedo if that's what you mean! I think she was 16 or 17. I consider a woman worth getting into bed for should be over 18. thats why I asked you your age, sweety!
If you slept with every woman over 18, in the Newport area, that would include most of the women in this pub and the bar staff...none of them seem to recognise you or give you a second look...!
Don't be as dumb as you look, cupcake, The staff's working, them women over there are with their husbands, they're sat with their colleagues and I'm with my girlfriend ,right, you!... Think about it cute reporter girl!
There are roughly 150,000 women in Newport, Cwmbran and Pontypool over the age of 18 and you are really telling me that you slept with all of them, actually had sex with them?
Yep, that's what I'm saying Lady GaGa, and I can prove it!
How?
Genetics of course! I always use protection and I keep them. Test them, and all the ladies, and Bob's your Uncle, Fanny's your Aunt, misses!
But how long does it take, I mean you work shifts...You said in your notes you started when you were 15, just in the Lodge area. Its taken 11 years...?
Listen, love, don't get your pretty little 'Agent Provocs' in a twist, I'll tell you how I does it.
The old'uns gets a hour, old to middle-aged get hour 'n' half, middle-aged, my favourites, get 3 hours, 30s,40s get about two'n'half hours, all the rest it depends what they look like, it can be over in seconds if they look like you darlin' if you know what I mean Heh, heh
Right this is the last question I've been told to ask' then I've got one of my own.
Fire away, fire away, little angel of Caerleon! by the way you're wearing a blue thong, the same one you wore on friday!
Now you've slept with every woman in Newport, Cwmbran and Pontypool what is your next challenge, Gareth?
Cardiff of course! Swansea! I'd love to give Tenby a good 'seeing to!' Now of course my biggest most pressing challenge is you, my little passion fruit, my car is parked behind a cement mixer and builder's truck, at the rear of the pub, if anyones walks past they'll think it's the usual 'doggers'...
Alright then, Gareth, heres my question: There may be one, may be two, women that when they are so drunk that they go blind and fall over in a stupor, find you attractive enough to want to sleep with you. But in a hundred mile radius of Newport, thats pathetic. You have wasted my time with this stupid lie, cost me hours and petrol on this ridiculous interview! Used obnoxious demeaning words to describe women, insulted my Nan, who you have never met! and tried to seduce me into having sex with you behind a cement mixer!
You havn't slept with all the women in Newport, Cwmbran and Pontypool, but one part of your story is true, You don't remember me, do you, Gareth, but I remember you! I was 14, Gareth, and you were 15. We went up the fields by The Lanes, and when we came back I was pregnant! I had the baby, Gareth, but I was put into care, now the baby is 11, Gareth, the question I want to ask you is, do you want to see your daughter? She's outside playing on the swings.
What? you are kidding me!
No I'm not, I brought Gemma up in care, and if you think this is a wind up, ask your Mother. We stayed in touch and she knows the whole truth. You were the only boy I did it with and because you were so immature, you were never told! Maybe that was unfair, maybe you would have been a good father. But I can't go on not telling Gemma who her father is so I'm giving you this opportunity to be a man. Please Gareth, stop telling these lies and be a father to this little girl!
Ok I will then.
Friday 17 February 2012
EXCLUSIVE! EXCLUSIVE! EXCLUSIVE! We Have an INTERVIEW with Newport's CLOCK!!
John Frost Square housed the eccentric Newport Clock, named 'In the Nick of Time', and described by some as 'a cross between a cuckoo clock and an espresso machine'. The clock was built for the 1992 Garden Festival in nearby Ebbw Vale. Every hour, this bizarre metallic creation shook, whirled and smoked to mark the time. No wonder they called it 'the only white-knuckle clock in the world'.
NEWPORT'S spectacular festival clock could be sold for scrap.The disposal of the the eccentric timepiece, which was once a major attraction in John Frost Square after its stint representing Newport at the 1992 Garden Festival in Ebbw Vale, is one option being considered by the city council.Other proposals include putting it up for private sale, keeping it in storage or restoring and relocating it in Newport.A report to councillors says the refurbishment would bring back a popular attraction for the people of Newport and visitors, saving the authority £8,000 a year in storage costs.
But the work is expected to cost £59,000 with an additional annual maintenance cost of £21,000.If that option is agreed, the clock called In the Nick of Time, would need a new home.While the report says the city centre would be the logical choice, it adds the structure is unlikely to be in keeping with the redevelopment proposals.The roundabouts at junction 28 of the M4 or the Harlequin roundabout on Malpas Road are being considered.But the report says these would not be suitable if the clock was restored to its former glory, where it would open, billow smoke and various characters would pop out, as it could distract drivers.A council overview and scrutiny forum will now consider the options and make a decision on its future.
The popular artwork was removed from the city centre in 2006 to make way for the city centre redevelopment and was dismantled and put into storage and in 2008.The question of whether the clock should be saved divided opinion with some people calling for it to be restored while others questioned the cost of doing that.
HOWEVER, Due partly to online petitioning, and a vocal campaign on Facebook the clock may at last be saved! Positive noises from a council meeting have been heard so all may not be lost!
We have been given an EXCLUSIVE interview with THE CLOCK ITSELF!
At a secret location, just outside Newport we enter a large compound with an industrial shed at one end, this is where the clock is stored ready for a final decision on its future. We are met by Cllr. Ron Griffiths of Newport City Council, he shows us to a small door in the shed through which we are shown the various parts of the impressive clock
Cllr. Griffiths says that the clock or 'Nick' as it is known, is in a good mood so we should have no trouble: "Keep it short boys, and keep it light, if you upset him, he'll be in pieces!"
The clock is indeed in pieces and has been wrapped in hessian sheets for protection. Cllr. Griffiths tells us to aim our questions at the face of the clock.
Cllr. Griffiths leaves and we turn to the clock!
Hello Nick, how are you?
Well, I'm a clock so I can't speak, but as you ask, not bad as it happens, I prefer it here because it's peaceful.
There is hope that you may be being saved! What do you say to that?
Are you church people? Are you 'born-a-genners'? If so, you can get out of that fucking door!
No, the Council has met to decide your future, there have been positive noises...
How can noises be positive! A noise is a noise as far as I'm concerned, stuff the Council, I'll take my chances here, thank you!
Which did you prefer, the Ebbw Vale Garden Festival or John Frost Square?
John Frost Square, because of the girls! In Ebbw Vale it was all old 'coffin dodgers' and bus loads of kids trying to speak Welsh. In John Frost Square you've got plenty of titty all the time, apart from the odd 'boiler,' now and again. From my vantage point, especially in the summer, you can see right down their chests, lovely!
There has been a campaign to save you: petitions online, a Facebook page. Lots of people saying they miss you, what do you say to all those people who want you back?
Fuck'em. I'm a clock, I want to know how many clocks wanted me back! What about that prick on the Civic Centre? I bet he didn't sign your fucking petition, I bet that one on St Mark's Church didn't shift his arse to book a computer in the library to go on Facebook did he?
Well anyway it looks like you might be back in John Frost Square before long, are you going to do anything different with your act this time?
Yes, less!
There were occasionally mechanical problems. You broke down quite often and were out of action for long periods of time, why was that?
Yeah well, I worked for the Council, if you want to pull a 'sicky' you've got to be a bit clever! I made it look like a fault, but really I just couldn't be arsed. They all do it, the bus drivers, the maintenance guys, the office people. Most of' 'em like a drink if you know what I mean...!
You have spent long periods stood in one place in all winds and weathers, what have you learnt?
That women don't buy the right bras! If they are big, if you know what I mean, they think they've got to buy big bras, bollocks, buy a couple of sizes smaller and let mechanics do the rest. much more pleasing to the male eye! Footballs in a handbag, lovely!
You must have seen some sights!
Oh god yes! I saw this boy and this girl going like the clappers, in The Monmouthshire doorway, must have been there nearly an hour! Anyway this Community Safety whatever-they-are comes over and has a word with them, couldn't hear what he said, and they look a bit sheepish like. Anyway would you believe it, next thing I know, the Community Safety whatever whips down his trousers and joins in! Then he's joined by three of his colleagues, two girls and a man and they join in, I couldn't believe it. Anyway, the doors of The Monmouthshire give way and they all fall inside in a heap! The alarms are going off, glass eveywhere, but, and this is the thing, they're not stopping! Anyway, there was this function at the Dolman Theatre and all these people were leaving, walking across John Frost Square, all dressed up in their glad-rags. The Mayor is there and his Missus. Anyway, as they walk past, the Mayor stops and says something to one of the bonking bobbies who stands up with his trousers still round his ankles, the others just carry on with the business, which is reaching the moment of ecstasy by the noises whats coming from them. Anyway, the Mayor starts introducing the bobby to his friends from the Dolman, they're shaking hands, he's kissing these posh women on the cheek, like they do, and going on as if nothing was happening! Anyway, the Dolman folks disappear with the Mayor and his Missus and the people in the Monmouthshire just carry on... Anyway, about a minute later the Mayor comes back on his own and tries to join in, but he's missed the action and the couple and the bobbies are leaning against a wall having a fag. So the Mayor just stands there and gets his...
Ok THANK YOU, thank you! I think we'll stop there for a moment for us all to calm down.
Thursday 16 February 2012
SMOKIN'! We visit The South Wales Cannabis and Hemp Festival! TOKIN'!
We meet the organisers of the South Wales Cannabis and Hemp Festival and try out some of their 'goodies'!
The first mistake we made was to describe The South Wales Cannabis and Hemp Expo as a 'Festival', The Newport Leisure Centre is not exactly Glastonbury, although some of the people going through the doors look like they might have just returned from there!
We buy our tickets (£2) and climb the stairs to the main hall, the people going in with us are a pot-pourri of the sort who you'd imagine would go to a cannabis and hemp expo; hoodie wearing youths, Long haired hippies with rainbow clothes, stundents wearing black with 'interesting' hair styles and 'arty crafties with hand knitted shawls, and a smattering of 'Gangsta Rappers' sauntering in and out of the caffeteria.
We buy our tickets (£2) and climb the stairs to the main hall, the people going in with us are a pot-pourri of the sort who you'd imagine would go to a cannabis and hemp expo; hoodie wearing youths, Long haired hippies with rainbow clothes, stundents wearing black with 'interesting' hair styles and 'arty crafties with hand knitted shawls, and a smattering of 'Gangsta Rappers' sauntering in and out of the caffeteria.
Wednesday 15 February 2012
Newport on The Big Screen! We meet Philip J Prick, the author and Filmmaker who has set his latest movie in and around the city of Newport!
Philip J. Prick
Philip Prick is a busy man. Not only has he just published his fourth novel 'Blood Bath at St. Cadoc's' but his last book 'Joe Strummer's Ghost' is being turned into a film which has already prompted critics to speculate that it will be the best sci-fi-rock movie of the last ten years.
Set in Newport, South Wales, the film centres around the figure of Joe Strummer, singer and guitarist with The Clash, and one time resident of the city, who returns in ghost form to help revive the fortunes of Newport's ailing music scene.
We meet Philip in hipster's pub The Murenger to ask him about the new film and why he bases so many of his books in and around Newport.
Hello Philip, what is it about this film, do you think, that has attracted so much attention already?
I think it is Joe Strummer, he was a very cool character, the fact that he lived in Newport for a short period is important for the city. I've tried to portray this elusive character in the book and in the film, which is why I have made him a ghost.
In researching this, particularly for the film, did you learn a lot about Joe Strummer the man?
Well, yes and no. I was amazed how many people who knew him are still there and still willing to talk about their experiences with him! It sometimes felt like he must have lived there for 10 years rather than just over a year. I've spoken to 30 year olds who shared a flat with Joe in the mid seventies, played in his groups and introduced him to Bob Marley. I suppose it adds to the ghost- like character of the man.
I think Photoshop has enabled people to embellish their stories. I was shown hundreds of pictures of people with Joe except that Joe always looks exactly the same, same facial expression, same hair, it's sad really. I mean The Clash were an abysmal band and Joe Strummer was the worst one of the lot, so why lie?
You mean you don't like The Clash? Why not?
They were terrible, it's just the image, bit of Rockabilly here, bit of Reggae there, leather jackets, quiffs, 'little bitta politics', it was so fake. I knew some of their fans once down in London, completely up their arses they were, hats on the back of their heads, smoking rollies, pretending to 'get' Lee Perry, stole my girlfriend one of them did. Oh yeah, she fell for it, hook, line and sinker, promised her she could meet Mick Jones, he did. Did she heck! Ended up with a £100 a-day crack habit, bastard!
So why Joe Strummer's ghost? Especially if you didn't like them?
Money. Pure and simple. Take an impoverished town, add a semi-mythical figure from a legendary punk band, take the death of that figure at 50, throw in people's need to boast about having a connection to that figure and you've got a recipe for ...money!
I don't mean making money from the film, I mean money as central to the plot. Without giving too much away, one of the characters does guided Joe Strummer tours around Newport, of course he makes most of it up, there isn't a lot to see. The highlight of his tour is a house on Stow Hill, which he claims Joe shared with Bono and The Edge from U2 for a period in the late 70s. By adding U2 to the equation, this guy is raking it in, all those gullible post-punk wankers couldn't get enough!
Post-Punk?
Oh, you know, the ones who didn't like punk at the time and wanted something a bit like Genesis but cooler. Voila! U2.
So this guy is making money from his tours?
Yeah, raking it in! Anyway he makes the mistake of having a joint before one of his tours! So he is a bit bollocksed! He tells these people that he himself lived there at the same time as the U2 c**ts along with..., well I can't tell you that because it would spoil the film! Anyway he gets rumbled by some muso and gets blackmailed! The plot thickens from there.
Tuesday 14 February 2012
'Mr Limpy Limpy', the woman who has her own take on the Middle East crisis!
Mr 'Limpy Limpy' is the nom-de-plume of Barb who looks a bit like this!
As tensions between Iran and Israel ratchet up following tit-for-tat threats and increasing concern over Iran's nuclear weapons programme, we speak to the woman whose plain speaking has set the diplomatic channels alight.
From her busy city centre cafe in Worcester, Barbara Witchell, 59, uses her extensive knowledge of the Middle East conflict to conduct ad hoc interventions in one of the most intractable problems in the history of international conflict. Using nothing but a mobile phone and her wit and wisdom, Barb as she is known to her friends and customers, plays the 'shuttle diplomat' between the various power brokers. Her sister Manje once called her the 'Henry Kissinger of the Bacon Butty'
We sit down with Barb amongst the full breakfasts, steaming mugs of tea, and sausage and bacon rolls; struggling to be heard amongst the bleeping of fruit machines, the coughing and shouts of customers and the occasional unsuppressed fart from a nearby 'gentleman of the road'.
Barb, how long have you been involved in the Middle East conflict?
Since 1967, lover, when I won Miss Worcester. They ask what your dreams are for the future, lover, and I said 'world peace' like all the other girls, lover. The man who gave me the prize (gift vouchers for Preedy's the stationary shop) Herbert Short said: "Your lovely figure could easily achieve that, Barbara, especially your breasts". From that moment I decided that I would use my assets to do just that, lover, to achieve world peace! Later Herbert Short, who was the Mayor at the time, got arrested for sexual assault on one of the girls, lover.
Did you know anything about the problems between Israel and the Arab World at the time?
Can I just say, haven't you got lovely eyes, lover, gorgeous eyes you've got lover, ooh I say, lover, you've got come-to-bed eyes you have, lover! No I thought Arabs and Jews were the same, foreigners. I had never heard of Israel and I thought the Middle East was Birmingham, lover. My dad wasn't very keen on foreigners, lover, he was a supporter of Enoch Powell, lover, and Oswald Mosley, he said to me: "The Englishman is the true reflection of God, all other men have been created lower so that the Englishman may have Dominion over them". He was a learned man, my father, though he had never been to school, lover.
How did you go about using your 'assets' to achieve 'World Peace'?
I wrote to Prime Minister Harold Wilson. I found out he was Prime Minister from an article in 'Tit Bits', lover. I sent a photo of me in my Miss Worcester bikini and asked him if he wanted a closer look? I told him what Herbert Short had said, lover, and offered my services to achieving world peace, lover.
Did he reply?
Yes, lover, straight away, in person! I had to hide the letter from my Dad who hated Labour, lover, and read it in my bedroom.
What did it say?
Harold Wilson wanted to meet me, lover, in person! He asked me if it would be possible for me to travel to Salisbury, he would pay, and meet him at a hotel there, he said a date which was in a weeks time, lover, I was 17, lover, I had never left Worcester!
Did you go?
Yes, lover, I wrote back, just in time, and on the date I caught the train to Salisbury. I sold my vouchers from the Miss Worcester competition to pay for my ticket! Harold Wilson said he would give me the money when I got there, lover. I got to the hotel, lover, and asked the receptionist for a mister 'Hubert Catskill' which was the name Harold had told me to use, lover. I was wearing a mini-skirt which was all the fashion then, white knee-length boots and a low-cut top, and my 'Mary Quant' hair do, which I was very proud of, lover.
Weren't you worried? I mean didn't you think it was a bit strange: meeting in a hotel in Salisbury, Wilson using a false name?
I thought it was for security reasons, I really did, lover, I thought we were going to talk about 'World Peace'. Anyway, this porter showed me to a room on the top floor and I knocked and Harold Wilson answered, lover. He was wearing a mac and he had no shoes on just his socks! I noticed that he had no trousers on under his mac and he smelled strongly of Cologne, lover. He asked me in and he was looking me up and down, lover. He looked just like he did on the telly apart from not wearing any trousers, lover!
What did he say?
He asked me if I liked his mac, which of course I said I did, lover, he said it was a 'Gannex' mac and that he owned the company that made them.
He asked me to walk up and down the room like I had in the 'Miss Worcester' show, lover, I noticed that his mac was sticking out at the front and that he was holding on tightly to a chair, lover.
That's horrible, what did you think? That must have been really scary!
I was naive, lover, I thought it was his hand or something! Anyway he asked me to pick something up off the floor, lover, which would have meant bending down in my mini skirt. I had learnt how to bend down gracefully, lover, something they taught you at 'Miss Worcester', I picked up the thing on the floor, a spoon I think, without showing my knickers!
What happened next?
He lunged at me! He was breathing heavy and he went to grab me, lover, I dodged him but he kept on trying to grab me round the waist! By this time his mac was sticking out like a tent, lover, so I grabbed it and yanked it down like this, lover, he fell on the bed, groaning and I ran for the door, lover.
We sit down with Barb amongst the full breakfasts, steaming mugs of tea, and sausage and bacon rolls; struggling to be heard amongst the bleeping of fruit machines, the coughing and shouts of customers and the occasional unsuppressed fart from a nearby 'gentleman of the road'.
Barb, how long have you been involved in the Middle East conflict?
Since 1967, lover, when I won Miss Worcester. They ask what your dreams are for the future, lover, and I said 'world peace' like all the other girls, lover. The man who gave me the prize (gift vouchers for Preedy's the stationary shop) Herbert Short said: "Your lovely figure could easily achieve that, Barbara, especially your breasts". From that moment I decided that I would use my assets to do just that, lover, to achieve world peace! Later Herbert Short, who was the Mayor at the time, got arrested for sexual assault on one of the girls, lover.
Barbara Witchell, aged 17, after winning 'Miss Worcester'
Can I just say, haven't you got lovely eyes, lover, gorgeous eyes you've got lover, ooh I say, lover, you've got come-to-bed eyes you have, lover! No I thought Arabs and Jews were the same, foreigners. I had never heard of Israel and I thought the Middle East was Birmingham, lover. My dad wasn't very keen on foreigners, lover, he was a supporter of Enoch Powell, lover, and Oswald Mosley, he said to me: "The Englishman is the true reflection of God, all other men have been created lower so that the Englishman may have Dominion over them". He was a learned man, my father, though he had never been to school, lover.
How did you go about using your 'assets' to achieve 'World Peace'?
I wrote to Prime Minister Harold Wilson. I found out he was Prime Minister from an article in 'Tit Bits', lover. I sent a photo of me in my Miss Worcester bikini and asked him if he wanted a closer look? I told him what Herbert Short had said, lover, and offered my services to achieving world peace, lover.
Did he reply?
Yes, lover, straight away, in person! I had to hide the letter from my Dad who hated Labour, lover, and read it in my bedroom.
What did it say?
Harold Wilson wanted to meet me, lover, in person! He asked me if it would be possible for me to travel to Salisbury, he would pay, and meet him at a hotel there, he said a date which was in a weeks time, lover, I was 17, lover, I had never left Worcester!
Harold Wilson (right) with 'Hubert Catskill'
who was Wilson's double during his time in hospital
Did you go?
Yes, lover, I wrote back, just in time, and on the date I caught the train to Salisbury. I sold my vouchers from the Miss Worcester competition to pay for my ticket! Harold Wilson said he would give me the money when I got there, lover. I got to the hotel, lover, and asked the receptionist for a mister 'Hubert Catskill' which was the name Harold had told me to use, lover. I was wearing a mini-skirt which was all the fashion then, white knee-length boots and a low-cut top, and my 'Mary Quant' hair do, which I was very proud of, lover.
Weren't you worried? I mean didn't you think it was a bit strange: meeting in a hotel in Salisbury, Wilson using a false name?
I thought it was for security reasons, I really did, lover, I thought we were going to talk about 'World Peace'. Anyway, this porter showed me to a room on the top floor and I knocked and Harold Wilson answered, lover. He was wearing a mac and he had no shoes on just his socks! I noticed that he had no trousers on under his mac and he smelled strongly of Cologne, lover. He asked me in and he was looking me up and down, lover. He looked just like he did on the telly apart from not wearing any trousers, lover!
What did he say?
He asked me if I liked his mac, which of course I said I did, lover, he said it was a 'Gannex' mac and that he owned the company that made them.
He asked me to walk up and down the room like I had in the 'Miss Worcester' show, lover, I noticed that his mac was sticking out at the front and that he was holding on tightly to a chair, lover.
That's horrible, what did you think? That must have been really scary!
I was naive, lover, I thought it was his hand or something! Anyway he asked me to pick something up off the floor, lover, which would have meant bending down in my mini skirt. I had learnt how to bend down gracefully, lover, something they taught you at 'Miss Worcester', I picked up the thing on the floor, a spoon I think, without showing my knickers!
What happened next?
He lunged at me! He was breathing heavy and he went to grab me, lover, I dodged him but he kept on trying to grab me round the waist! By this time his mac was sticking out like a tent, lover, so I grabbed it and yanked it down like this, lover, he fell on the bed, groaning and I ran for the door, lover.
Barbara demonstrates how to bend down in a mini skirt (1968)
What did you do next?
Well I had no money, lover, I only had a single ticket from Worcester, Harold was supposed to have paid for me, Lover, I had to phone Dad and tell him what had happened, he was so angry! My Dad had been in the army, lover, and he still had army friends on Salisbury Plain, the army bases, you know, lover, so he must have arranged for some of them to sort Harold out, if you know what I mean, lover.
How did they do that?
Well I can't really say too much, lover, but it took three days to clear up the mess and the dogs were so excited they had to be caged for a week and slowly weaned off raw meat. Harold was in hospital for six weeks, lover, and they had to use a double for that period. Labour lost a by-election and Harold lost his manhood!...lover.
more later
Monday 13 February 2012
What are we meant to do? We meet the couple who have the answers to some of the most searching Questions facing us in the 21st century
Martin and Raoulle are warm and friendly, and after we have ordered coffee we sit down to discuss their new book, 'Strength Through Joy'. We begin by asking them about the controversial title:
Why 'Strength Through Joy', wasn't that one of the slogans of the Hitler Youth?
Raoulle: Yes it was, but before that it was used in the act of a Monsieur Petaine, a French Puppeteer who used to entertain children in the parks of Paris; that's where I first heard it.
What sort of puppet shows did he put on?
Raoulle: They were grossly indecent actually, when I look back. I think he should never have been allowed to perform them. My mother caught me watching once and attacked him with her shoe!
So 'Strength Through Joy', what does it mean in the context of your book?
Martin: Well the book came about as the result of research we did into happiness. Until we met both of us had experienced a lot of personal unhappiness. In my case, I realised at a young age that I was not fully human, actually about 50% human, but I didn't know what the other half was. At first I thought I might be half a dragon, but that was I think, wishful thinking. A wonderful specialist in St Thomas' Hospital, Cyril Cot, told me that my calcium levels were too low to be 50% dragon and that I should look more towards the Bovine species for the answer. I was seven then, and I spent the next 20 years searching for the answer, then I met Raoulle...
Raoulle: Yes I too had many problems as a youth, it started before I was born; my mother found a way of removing me from her womb when she was tired so she could rest. One day we were in a big store in Paris and my mother took me out of her womb and placed me on a display of brioche, a kind of bread, bear in mind I was still attached to my mother by the umbilical cord. At that moment an old woman came over to look at me, and not realising I hadn't been born yet, started cooing and trying to touch me. My mother took exception to this and threw some bread at her, the old lady retaliated and knocked my mother to the ground pulling me with her.
We were both unhurt, but my mother got arrested! When the police came my mother was in such shock she couldn't put me back inside so I got arrested as well, as an accessory! They wouldn't let me see a lawyer. This trauma, which I detail in the book, was the first of several significant events that led me to meeting Martin and writing 'Strength Through Joy'
The Book is a self help book but with a difference, you offer no actual solutions to life's problems, in fact you say quite clearly that there are no solutions, is this right?
Martin: Solutions to what? You need problems if you are going to have solutions! Most people's worries occur because of railway signalling, specifically the'block' system and a rather poor design of on/off light switch. None of these things is within our control so we can't really see them as problems. I'd rather we see life as a kind of satchel or shoulder bag, maybe a bit worn, maybe sparkling new, The shoulder bag has many uses other than those for which it was designed: it is a vital ingredient in genetic research, and plays a part in overcoming the difficulties in fostering children of different races.
Raoulle: I think what Martin is trying to say is, it's not the shoulder bag itself that represents life, but the creative uses of the bag...
Martin: No that's not what I was saying at all! Forget the bag, forget the bag! Life is like a...a...g-string, a thong. Yes, life is like a thong, a pair of frillies...
What will readers learn from the book?
Martin: They will learn about themselves! If you have noticed we have cleverly placed a mirror inside the front cover. This means that each book is a reflection of the individual reader. As Nick Griffin writes in his introduction: 'In these politically correct times it has become fashionable to blame ourselves for our own problems. When you look in the mirror it becomes clear that other people are largely if not entirely to blame.'
Is that Nick Griffin, leader of The British National Party?
Raoulle: Yes, he is a truly remarkable man. We met him at the opening of the Ann Summers shop in St Ives in Cornwall. He became a little overexcited and collapsed, Martin and I helped revive him and clean him up, from then on we became good friends. Did you know he has wooden eyes?
Martin: He also has tungsten testicles! Only joking!
Having read the book we were surprised that the last two thirds were a collection of cake recipes, and formulae for reversing male pattern baldness, how come?
Martin: We ran out of time, simple as that. Do you have a problem with that? Yeah? Do want to start now? Right here, in this cafe? I'm fast I am, really fast, so if you want to start I'm happy to oblige. You look like a green baby you do and where's your knees, you haven't got any have you? Start right now, hit my hair, you know you want to. You took my mothers virginity you did, you're my father you are!...
Please can we return to the book?
Sunday 12 February 2012
Coming Soon! Is Newport the Welsh Brighton?
Could Newport become the gay capital of Wales? We speak to the man who believes Newport could soon be on a par with Brighton or Manchester's Canal Street area. Don't miss this exclusive interview!
AT LAST! The World's Most Pierced Man
We catch three buses and a taxi to a secret location just outside Swansea to meet Angry Barry, the 'World's Most Pierced Man'. We arrive at high steel gates on an abandoned industrial estate and are met by a burly man with a shaved head and dark glasses. He opens the gates and leads us across a large compound. As a way of making conversation I ask the man whether he feels that Monet's work is rather chocolate boxy, he ignores me. Eventually we arrive at a large green shed from which strange noises are emanating, clinking, clattering, scraping and cries of pain. The burly man opens the door and beckons us to enter.
At first the shed appears to be full of scrap metal. Long steel bars, aluminium strips and rusting iron trimmings are piled almost to the ceiling. However this heap of junk is moving slightly causing the noises we heard outside. Now and again something from within the pile emits a groan.
The man shouts something at the pile and a voice answers in a Swansea accent: "You can go now Wyn, I'll be alright with these boys". The man leaves pulling the doors closed behind him. The voice from the pile continues, "Come to interview me have you boys? I wonder what for He...He...He...Well get on with it I'm rusting away here, not much longer to go boys!"
Are you Angry Barry The World's Most Pierced Man?
Well, who do you think I am, the world's least pierced man...? Now sit down boys you're making me nervous. Sorry about Wyn, he doesn't say much he has a limited vocabularly, by that I mean he's actually running out of words. Now what do you want to know?
What is your real name?
Boring question guys! Well I was born Diana Spencer in 1952 here in Swansea. My mother thought I was a girl because I had a 'widow's ear'. My parents had a row on the ward where I was born and damaged some equipment. They blamed me and I was thrown out of the hospital. I ended up sleeping rough on the streets of Swansea until I was 4 days old and then an old lady took pity on me and took me in; thats how I got my first piercing.
How old were you?
I was 6 days old. The old lady's husband had a do-it-yourself piercing kit but he was too scared to do it to himself so he tried it out on me. He rammed a steel bar through my bell-end and hey-presto! I had a 'Prince Albert'!
What did your parents think?
How do I know, I was 6 days old! Anyway my mother had murdered my father by then and was in jail. The old couple decided to keep me, on one condition, that I never read books. The old man saw reading as a sign of homosexuality and to this day I have never read so much as a crisp packet.
What was your childhood like?
Great! I was a bully! Bullies have great fun. I would recommend bullying to everyone. I picked on anyone from little kids, girls, weak boys and the elderly. And I wasn't a coward, my 'Prince Albert' gave me strength and I would often use it to get in that last painful blow, great days!
When did you get your next piercing?
I was 5, I was walking through Swansea when this man, a tall man with a briefcase knocked into me, I bit his leg and he stabbed me through the head with a pen, right through the brain. It was Aneurin Bevin, I found out later. Bastard!
TOO POOR FOR THEIR OWN GOOD The city where the residents are being blamed for driving away new business!
Brian is Head of Business and Planning at Newport City Council and has reason to be concerned; Newport town centre has been losing retail businesses at a rate of three a week over the last ten years and the trend doesn't seem to be stopping. Brian explains: "Newport used to be a thriving place but now we are losing some of the biggest names on the High Street. We have lost Next, Burtons and will be losing M&S, Dorothy Perkins and countless smaller places over the next two years, Newport is in decline and quite frankly we on the council are at a loss to know what to do."
Brian takes us up onto Commercial St, the retail centre of the City and continues: "Shops like the 'poundstores,' the bargain shops, like The Works and Card Factory, do really well, but when people want to do proper shopping they go to Cwmbran or Cardiff. Even the golf; The Ryder Cup in 2010, had little effect on the city itself."
We retire to Starbucks, out of the cold, where we are joined by Lelee DaCompta whose company Pretty City deals with the economic problems facing cities such as Newport. Brian Owens introduces her; " We have hired Lelee because she is an expert in the regeneration of cities such as Newport. She is working on the redevelopment of Baghdad and is about to start work on a shopping mall in Tripoli. Two of her companies successes have been the fashion district of Dubai and the St Anne's area of Taunton."
Ms. Da Compta opens her lap-top. " Cities like Newport have to identify what is causing this decline, it is not enough to blame it on the economic climate, that is lazy thinking! You have to look closer at the city itself at the infrastructure, at the people." She pauses to show some pictures on her lap-top that appear to have been taken in Newport Market; "if you see here this is a familiar scene, a cafe in the market, what do you notice?... do you see? the customers are, how you say, shabby, very scruffy. They are, and I'm sorry if this sounds awful, ugly".
Brian Owens looks uncomfortable for a moment and interrupts Lelee,"Well they are probably poor..."
Lelee continues: "Yes poor! That is it! You do not build a thriving city on the poor, you build it on the wealthy, that has happened in Dubai and that is happening in Baghdad. When there was the war, when the Americans invaded, the poor had to flee, now people are coming back, rich people who see opportunity."
Lelee proffers more photos this time of ASDA in Pill. "These places are for the poor, these supermarkets, the produce is cheap and they are on the edge of the town. The poor do not need to go into the city centre to shop. Wealthy shoppers do not need to see the ugliness and the bad behaviour associated with the poor, therefore they will have a more enjoyable shopping experience!"
Brian Owens is beginning to look like he is regretting inviting Lelee DaCompta along. But Lelee continues: "People are not just offended by words, they are offended by what they see with their eyes. If you see some 'doggie doos' you look away, you avoid that area, you will not go back again and of course it smells! It is the same with people, potential customers will not come to Newport if what they see is shabby, shuffling people swearing and wearing cheap clothes and probably smelling!"
Lelee DaCompta hands out small press release with a familiar face on the front. " This is my all time hero, my great friend Andy Warhol!" she says " He said some great things about money but the best of all was ' A rich man given more money is a danger to himself, so give it to the poor? No, then the poor will spoil the party'".
We pay the bill and leave.
Saturday 11 February 2012
Dr FeelGreat! We meet the controversial psychiatrist whose unorthodox approach to treating her patients has caused a storm in the mental health teacup
It has been impossible to ignore the furore that has ignited over the publication of one of the most controversial books ever written about the vexed subject of Mental Health. The book 'Only One Life' has only been out for just over a week and already the tabloids, particularly the Daily Mail have been calling for the author's head.
Headlines such as 'Dr Drug Peddler', 'Is this Woman the Most Evil Dr since Harold Shipman?' and 'This Woman Wants You to Be a Junkie' have all appeared in the Mail over the past week. Melanie Phillips in the same paper called for the author to be arrested, and even the Independent, normally a repository for liberal views, has in an editorial, asked whether the doctor should be struck off!
We decided that rather than rush to judgement, we would ask the doctor to explain, in her own words, some of her ideas and methods and how she will survive what is going to be a momentous struggle to convince a sceptical Press, public and the world of Psychiatry, that her ideas are valid
We meet Dr Rachael Spiro in the bustling canteen at Leicester's De Montford University, where she has been senior Tutor in Psychiatry for the past 7 years. In spite of the infamy that has placed Dr Spiro in the limelight recently, she is greeted warmly by several students and members of staff and chats easily with the the dinner ladies as she orders toast and coffee. It is clear she is well regarded here and there is a sense of protectiveness over her which is just as well as Dr Spiro tells us that she has agreed to be interviewed on TV by Jeremy Paxman, a notoriously hard interrogator.
We begin by asking Dr Spiro about herself and how she came to write the book
.
I had the usual training but I did it in several places and it was interrupted by national service in the IDF, the Israeli army. It was in the army that I began to notice how people would self medicate to help them deal with the traumas of warfare. You take kids who have never even left home, give them some rudimentary training, give them a gun and send them into 'the badlands' They come back and they're high, manic even, they can,t sit down, they are talking nine-to-the-dozen. If one of them gets killed, his or her friends would laugh and cry at the same time, some of them would do a kind of dance. I remember one boy, about 20, started singing a song in Yiddish, he wouldn't stop! His commanding officer ordered him to stop but he jumped on a cupboard and carried on.Then I noticed that groups of them would go outside into the compound for half an hour and when they came back they were calm, no more singing, no more talking, no more dancing. It was strange, then I found out that when they went outside they smoked Hashish behind the toilet blocks. They bought it from some Arab kids nearby. From then on I became interested in the use of these drugs by the armed forces and also the use of alcohol. This was before much research had been done into PTSD.
What did you do when you left the army?
I was half way through med school in Haifa when I was called up, so I wanted to continue with that. The army would pay for it and I also had my army pension, but I travelled, around the world, two years was the plan. I ended up working in a hospital in the Far East. For legal reasons I can't say which hospital, or even the country, but lets say at the time it was the party capital of the world, and still is as far as I know.
This was 1991, The Acid House thing, I worked as a casualty nurse because my truncated medical training qualified me as a nurse in that country. We had a lot of drug casualties in, mostly Europeans; too much Ecstasy, people overheating in clubs and lots of Acid casualties, people who had bad experiences on Acid. We would get five or six every night. most of them would be given Valium and be fine in the morning, but I remember this one girl about 18, British I think, who came in in a terrible state; she was screaming and howling, banging her head with her hands, she grabbed my arms and begged me to 'make it stop, make it stop'. I was scared, for me and for her, I didn't know what to do but the orderlies carried her away and I didn't see her again until a week later when I happened to go to the psychiatric ward. She was transformed, smiling, chatting to the other patients, playing a board game and when I spoke to her she was planning the rest of her trip. The change was unbelievable. Normally people who have psychosis take weeks to recover to that level.
I spoke to the doctor who had treated the girl and asked him about her. He told me he had given her a massive dose of Diazepam and 12mg of Zopiclone but that it hadn't worked and she was still in psychotic state several hours later.It was then the doctor used his license to prescribe banned drugs and administered her a small dose of Chlezopeine, a made up name I think, which is actually almost pure heroin. The doctor said that the girl calmed down almost immediately, became talkative and excited for a while and then slept for 12 hours. After that she was able to receive visitors, but he decided to keep her in for observation because he was worried that she would go back to the party life before she had contacted her family in Britain.
What did you learn from this experience?
more later!
Headlines such as 'Dr Drug Peddler', 'Is this Woman the Most Evil Dr since Harold Shipman?' and 'This Woman Wants You to Be a Junkie' have all appeared in the Mail over the past week. Melanie Phillips in the same paper called for the author to be arrested, and even the Independent, normally a repository for liberal views, has in an editorial, asked whether the doctor should be struck off!
We decided that rather than rush to judgement, we would ask the doctor to explain, in her own words, some of her ideas and methods and how she will survive what is going to be a momentous struggle to convince a sceptical Press, public and the world of Psychiatry, that her ideas are valid
We meet Dr Rachael Spiro in the bustling canteen at Leicester's De Montford University, where she has been senior Tutor in Psychiatry for the past 7 years. In spite of the infamy that has placed Dr Spiro in the limelight recently, she is greeted warmly by several students and members of staff and chats easily with the the dinner ladies as she orders toast and coffee. It is clear she is well regarded here and there is a sense of protectiveness over her which is just as well as Dr Spiro tells us that she has agreed to be interviewed on TV by Jeremy Paxman, a notoriously hard interrogator.
We begin by asking Dr Spiro about herself and how she came to write the book
.
I had the usual training but I did it in several places and it was interrupted by national service in the IDF, the Israeli army. It was in the army that I began to notice how people would self medicate to help them deal with the traumas of warfare. You take kids who have never even left home, give them some rudimentary training, give them a gun and send them into 'the badlands' They come back and they're high, manic even, they can,t sit down, they are talking nine-to-the-dozen. If one of them gets killed, his or her friends would laugh and cry at the same time, some of them would do a kind of dance. I remember one boy, about 20, started singing a song in Yiddish, he wouldn't stop! His commanding officer ordered him to stop but he jumped on a cupboard and carried on.Then I noticed that groups of them would go outside into the compound for half an hour and when they came back they were calm, no more singing, no more talking, no more dancing. It was strange, then I found out that when they went outside they smoked Hashish behind the toilet blocks. They bought it from some Arab kids nearby. From then on I became interested in the use of these drugs by the armed forces and also the use of alcohol. This was before much research had been done into PTSD.
What did you do when you left the army?
I was half way through med school in Haifa when I was called up, so I wanted to continue with that. The army would pay for it and I also had my army pension, but I travelled, around the world, two years was the plan. I ended up working in a hospital in the Far East. For legal reasons I can't say which hospital, or even the country, but lets say at the time it was the party capital of the world, and still is as far as I know.
This was 1991, The Acid House thing, I worked as a casualty nurse because my truncated medical training qualified me as a nurse in that country. We had a lot of drug casualties in, mostly Europeans; too much Ecstasy, people overheating in clubs and lots of Acid casualties, people who had bad experiences on Acid. We would get five or six every night. most of them would be given Valium and be fine in the morning, but I remember this one girl about 18, British I think, who came in in a terrible state; she was screaming and howling, banging her head with her hands, she grabbed my arms and begged me to 'make it stop, make it stop'. I was scared, for me and for her, I didn't know what to do but the orderlies carried her away and I didn't see her again until a week later when I happened to go to the psychiatric ward. She was transformed, smiling, chatting to the other patients, playing a board game and when I spoke to her she was planning the rest of her trip. The change was unbelievable. Normally people who have psychosis take weeks to recover to that level.
I spoke to the doctor who had treated the girl and asked him about her. He told me he had given her a massive dose of Diazepam and 12mg of Zopiclone but that it hadn't worked and she was still in psychotic state several hours later.It was then the doctor used his license to prescribe banned drugs and administered her a small dose of Chlezopeine, a made up name I think, which is actually almost pure heroin. The doctor said that the girl calmed down almost immediately, became talkative and excited for a while and then slept for 12 hours. After that she was able to receive visitors, but he decided to keep her in for observation because he was worried that she would go back to the party life before she had contacted her family in Britain.
What did you learn from this experience?
more later!
Friday 10 February 2012
Traditions and Rituals: Eton College Part 2. COMING SOON!
Eton College guards its secrets closely. No other school, private or otherwise, is associated, in the public's mind, with such a number of ancient, mysterious, some may say sinister, traditions as Eton. We return to the school to discover why pupils cover themselves with frog-spawn and learn how to 'smell' women!
Wednesday 8 February 2012
Eton College and Anti- Social Behaviour. We explore the ASBO culture that exists at the school and how a government funded project has been set up to deal with the problem.
It could be a scene anywhere in any town up and down the country. Tucked in between the pub, the coffee shop, WHSmith and a scattering of clothes shops (including Next, Abercrombie & Fitch and an upmarket school uniform boutique), the familiar red and green signs and gaudily lit shop front of a 'SPAR' convenience store illuminate the pavement, casting shadows across the road towards the monumental dark building opposite. Clustered round the door of the SPAR are four youths, shuffling on the spot, dancing against the cold night air, tugging idly on cigarettes and clutching long cans of sugary, super- caffeinated drinks with names like 'Demonia', 'Evilina' and 'Bollatrix.'
However, this is no ordinary town, this is no ordinary SPAR and this is no ordinary group of youths.
The Town is Windsor, site of the famous castle and close neighbour of Eton College, the SPAR shop is a carefully prepared mock up with real stock, tills and money, and the group of youths are all pupils at the elite school.
Tourists and locals would be forgiven for believing that the hoodie-wearing boys were from the local housing estate but they are part of a special project, partly run by Eton College and partly funded by the government.
'What had until recently been a closely guarded secret, can at last be revealed as we are allowed behind the scenes of something that Eton believes will revolutionise the way its pupils are prepared for high office. Kurshid, one of the boys explains, his breath freezing in the night air: "Most of us at the school, come from privileged backgrounds, my father is Transport Minister in my country and we live in a huge house with servants.It is impossible to meet the common people because I would undoubtedly be killed. Here it is relatively safe and I need a much smaller phalanx of security."
Caspian,16, joins in, his hood pulled over his head; "Until this scheme started it was usual, at the school, to laugh at working class people, mock their accents and avoid them at all costs, indeed it is the school ethos that successful leadership is only possible if the lower classes, those who have no knowledge of Moliere, say, are regarded with, at best, derision and at worst suspicion"
Ed, also 16, eyes the customers leaving the 'shop' and draws a deep breath: " these people, if you want to call them that, were bred for centuries to work and serve. Indeed my Great,Great Great Grandfather was one before he founded Barton & Joyce, the big stores in the North East, on which my family's fortune is based. However things are changing, leaders, whether they be in government or business are expected to communicate with their employees, listen to them, even give the impression of deferring to them occasionally, which does not come easy if you believe there is a distinct natural order."
The fourth boy, 18, who wished not to be named, shuffled uneasily: " We'd much rather 'socialise' to use a Marxist word, with our peers, studying Machiavelli, the finer points of Trollope and Racine and the French Symbolists, than stand here in the cold trying to 'identify with the yoot', but one day we are going to be controlling the destinies of them as members of our class have done forever."
Kurshid explains the scheme, "We dress up as chavs and do what they do for a couple of evenings after 'woat' or late school, some of the boys run the shop and learn how to serve customers and give change. It's not a real Spar shop and all the money goes to the school but the guy that owns SPAR is a Jabbett or old boy and helped set up the scheme. The worst bit is actually having to talk to 'spoats' or ordinary people, its not so bad here in Windsor but some of the boys do this in Slough!"
All the boys are agreed that one part of the task is particularly irksome, Ed explains: "standing out here you get a lot of attention from local girls, some of them quite aesthetically, and dare I say, erotically pleasing, but we are not allowed to get involved and it can be a bit difficult especially in these loose tracksuits! Interbreeding is a big no no of course!"
Next time we meet the boys in the shop!
However, this is no ordinary town, this is no ordinary SPAR and this is no ordinary group of youths.
The Town is Windsor, site of the famous castle and close neighbour of Eton College, the SPAR shop is a carefully prepared mock up with real stock, tills and money, and the group of youths are all pupils at the elite school.
Tourists and locals would be forgiven for believing that the hoodie-wearing boys were from the local housing estate but they are part of a special project, partly run by Eton College and partly funded by the government.
'What had until recently been a closely guarded secret, can at last be revealed as we are allowed behind the scenes of something that Eton believes will revolutionise the way its pupils are prepared for high office. Kurshid, one of the boys explains, his breath freezing in the night air: "Most of us at the school, come from privileged backgrounds, my father is Transport Minister in my country and we live in a huge house with servants.It is impossible to meet the common people because I would undoubtedly be killed. Here it is relatively safe and I need a much smaller phalanx of security."
Caspian,16, joins in, his hood pulled over his head; "Until this scheme started it was usual, at the school, to laugh at working class people, mock their accents and avoid them at all costs, indeed it is the school ethos that successful leadership is only possible if the lower classes, those who have no knowledge of Moliere, say, are regarded with, at best, derision and at worst suspicion"
Ed, also 16, eyes the customers leaving the 'shop' and draws a deep breath: " these people, if you want to call them that, were bred for centuries to work and serve. Indeed my Great,Great Great Grandfather was one before he founded Barton & Joyce, the big stores in the North East, on which my family's fortune is based. However things are changing, leaders, whether they be in government or business are expected to communicate with their employees, listen to them, even give the impression of deferring to them occasionally, which does not come easy if you believe there is a distinct natural order."
The fourth boy, 18, who wished not to be named, shuffled uneasily: " We'd much rather 'socialise' to use a Marxist word, with our peers, studying Machiavelli, the finer points of Trollope and Racine and the French Symbolists, than stand here in the cold trying to 'identify with the yoot', but one day we are going to be controlling the destinies of them as members of our class have done forever."
Kurshid explains the scheme, "We dress up as chavs and do what they do for a couple of evenings after 'woat' or late school, some of the boys run the shop and learn how to serve customers and give change. It's not a real Spar shop and all the money goes to the school but the guy that owns SPAR is a Jabbett or old boy and helped set up the scheme. The worst bit is actually having to talk to 'spoats' or ordinary people, its not so bad here in Windsor but some of the boys do this in Slough!"
All the boys are agreed that one part of the task is particularly irksome, Ed explains: "standing out here you get a lot of attention from local girls, some of them quite aesthetically, and dare I say, erotically pleasing, but we are not allowed to get involved and it can be a bit difficult especially in these loose tracksuits! Interbreeding is a big no no of course!"
Next time we meet the boys in the shop!
Tuesday 7 February 2012
The True Story of Stonehenge, and its Terrible Secret
To most people Stonehenge is a group of ancient and mysterious giant stones arranged in a circle on Salisbury Plain. Hippies and other weirdos gather every year to celebrate the summer solstice, when the moon is at its closest to the sun. We may also be familiar with the story of the creation of the stone circle by the Druids, a swarthy race of people believed to have come from an area south of the Maldives or Falkland Islands. We may also believe that the so called 'blue' stones had been brought all the way from the Presley mountains in Wales, a seemingly impossible feat, and we may have also come to believe, as most archaeologists do, that Stonehenge is a form of ancient casino, amusement arcade or a football stadium. However, the truth behind Britain's most famous landmark is much stranger than this and there is something else much, much darker, which may hold the secret as to why so many of our children are getting pregnant.
Professor Benjamin Linch of Bristol University, or 'Benj the Henge' as he is known, is used to controversy but nothing has prepared him for the tsunami of opprobrium that he has met following the publication of the archaeological discoveries he and his team have made at and around Stonehenge.
Sitting on one of the stones and drinking a 'Mcflurry' from the nearby tourist centre, Professor Linch explains: "Everything you thought you knew about Stonehenge is probably wrong, definitely wrong! Take the stones themselves, sandstone? Limestone? Chalk? A mixture? No, they are not rock at all, they are wool"... he pauses to allow this startling revelation to have maximum impact. "The stones of Stonehenge are in fact made of wool, they are knitted! If you look closely, what you may have thought of as striations or strata are in fact rows. It's not even very good knitting, dropped stitches here, cable stitching running into plain knit, it's a wonder they can stand up at all,"
Reaching into his bag Prof. Linch pulls out a book of knitting patterns, pullovers, cardigans, socks. He continues: "The builders or knitters of Stonehenge were attempting to make something like these, probably this tank-top or waistcoat, which would account for the astronomical alignment of the stones."
Prof. Linch explains how he first came up with the idea: "It was my daughter actually, She's very modern, a great fan of Shakira and Justin Bieber as well as Wanted and JLS, anyway my wife knitted her a cardigan, as you do, a lovely pale green with a lilac trim and blue buttons, gorgeous so I thought, but Spruce didn't like it, 'Mum it's horrible' she said, 'it's so old fashioned it'll make me look like one of those old rocks Dad's always going on about. Get me something from New Look'. And that's when it hit me; the reason Spruce thought the cardie made her look like an 'old rock' was because she in her childish female way had realised what I had never suspected, those old rocks were items of knitwear."
Prof. Linch prepares a small tincture of heroin; "Of course this leads me to what I suspect will be one of the greatest threats our children could face in the future." Prof Linch tightens the ligature around his arm,"If knitting is to be associated with ancient sites like Stonehenge, and who's to say other ancient sites like the Eiffel Tower, Manchester Piccadilly railway station and Banbury Cross aren't knitted or crocheted too, then our kids are going to 'dis' wool in favour of more revealing and 'sexual' material such as nylon, Lycra and suspenders".
Prof. Linch can hardly speak now. His eyes appear to have rolled up into his head and his voice is a whisper; "There is a direct correlation between rudey, nudey material such as polythene and draylon, and teenage pregnancy. I had a phone call yesterday from Fanny Craddock begging me to suppress this research, the Queen has been camping outside my house for three days, even my late mother has bought me an Ouija board so that she can talk to me! I'm thinking of sending my legs to Paris for a few days to give them a break. The professor holds his head in his hands, "The ironic thing is my daughter's got 17 arms so the cardigan wouldn't have fitted her anyway. We gave it to Peter Stringfellow to turn into butter for his new Lotus Esprit turbo..."
Professor Benjamin 'Benj the Henge' Linch staggers off towards the main road, a trail of knitting patterns and used needles following behind him.
Professor Benjamin Linch of Bristol University, or 'Benj the Henge' as he is known, is used to controversy but nothing has prepared him for the tsunami of opprobrium that he has met following the publication of the archaeological discoveries he and his team have made at and around Stonehenge.
Sitting on one of the stones and drinking a 'Mcflurry' from the nearby tourist centre, Professor Linch explains: "Everything you thought you knew about Stonehenge is probably wrong, definitely wrong! Take the stones themselves, sandstone? Limestone? Chalk? A mixture? No, they are not rock at all, they are wool"... he pauses to allow this startling revelation to have maximum impact. "The stones of Stonehenge are in fact made of wool, they are knitted! If you look closely, what you may have thought of as striations or strata are in fact rows. It's not even very good knitting, dropped stitches here, cable stitching running into plain knit, it's a wonder they can stand up at all,"
Reaching into his bag Prof. Linch pulls out a book of knitting patterns, pullovers, cardigans, socks. He continues: "The builders or knitters of Stonehenge were attempting to make something like these, probably this tank-top or waistcoat, which would account for the astronomical alignment of the stones."
Prof. Linch explains how he first came up with the idea: "It was my daughter actually, She's very modern, a great fan of Shakira and Justin Bieber as well as Wanted and JLS, anyway my wife knitted her a cardigan, as you do, a lovely pale green with a lilac trim and blue buttons, gorgeous so I thought, but Spruce didn't like it, 'Mum it's horrible' she said, 'it's so old fashioned it'll make me look like one of those old rocks Dad's always going on about. Get me something from New Look'. And that's when it hit me; the reason Spruce thought the cardie made her look like an 'old rock' was because she in her childish female way had realised what I had never suspected, those old rocks were items of knitwear."
Prof. Linch prepares a small tincture of heroin; "Of course this leads me to what I suspect will be one of the greatest threats our children could face in the future." Prof Linch tightens the ligature around his arm,"If knitting is to be associated with ancient sites like Stonehenge, and who's to say other ancient sites like the Eiffel Tower, Manchester Piccadilly railway station and Banbury Cross aren't knitted or crocheted too, then our kids are going to 'dis' wool in favour of more revealing and 'sexual' material such as nylon, Lycra and suspenders".
Professor Benjamin Linch
Professor Benjamin 'Benj the Henge' Linch staggers off towards the main road, a trail of knitting patterns and used needles following behind him.
The Undergarments are called 'Quelltroons' by the pupils of Eton College. The name derives from a Hugenot word meaning 'bag of dung'.
Windsor locals examine the 'delicious' Kinges Paite
Eton
College is exempt from Health & Safety legislation by Royal
Prerogative, therefore the school is able to follow traditions and
rituals which would otherwise be banned. One such tradition occurs on
the 17th July. 'Botting the Backstaff' is
thought to have started in the late 18th century by Bishop Powick; it
involves two loaded muskets, a number of soiled sheets and a horse hair
and wax effigy of a particularly hated Pope. The rest of the details
are a closely guarded secret but it has been rumoured that a number of
boys have been treated for severe but undisclosed injuries. One old
Etonian who wishes to remain nameless told me that since 1980, when the
tradition was revived, at least 12 boys have died following the ritual
of Botting the Backstaff'.
Windsor locals examine the 'delicious' Kinges Paite
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