royal pimps and headless men and naked Ministers in masks

epub or mobi

It was appropriate that the most blatant rebellion against law and order in 1964 should be merely the day-long unauthorised broadcasting of pop records from a rusty hulk moored ten miles off the coast. Throughout the month of April, the country waited in mounting suspense to see what the Government would do to terminate such unauthorised invasion of the airwaves. The Post Office cut off Caroline's ship-to-shore telephone. The Customs Officials did as much as possible to hinder intercourse with the ship. The Foreign Office lodged a protest with the Government of Panama, where the Caroline was registered. Four days later, when Radio Atlanta also began transmission, the prospect of a whole armada of pirates massed round Britain's shores elevated the problem briefly into major political importance. As May drew to a close, 'Screaming Lord Sutch', a pop singer from North London, set sail with a trawlerful of leopard-skinned acolytes, took possession of a disused army fort on Shivering Sands in the Thames Estuary and announced a round-the-clock service of Sutch classics, spiced with readings from Lady Chatterley's Lover.

wearing a miniskirt but no knickers, the latest trend among the hippies?

epub or mobi

We’re not a nation of prudes whatever anyone thinks. It’s only when you come on television you’re led to believe the people of Britain are very delicate flowers who must be nurtured and not offended. Unfortunately, the people who dislike us or who are critical of the BBC are very vocal and well-organised, viz. Mary Whitehouse. She says, ‘I have 800,000 people who all agree with me, this is obscene.’ But it’s nothing against the 18 million people who actually enjoy it. They don’t actually fill in questionnaires and say, ‘Yes, I’d like to see more filth on television.’

black music played by white, working class, bad skin bastards

pdf scan (31 pages / 44 MB)

People might say, "Well, there's no more Knickerbockers, there's no more Count Five and there's no more Hombres, and there's no more Standells out there." Yeah, but there may be a bunch of people who can give you the same emotional feeling if you spent the time on a Tuesday night to go to the clubs and hear music, you'll see. It's still out there. You have to find it again, because you can only recycle these stories so many times; you can only reissue these songs so many times, and eventually everybody's gonna have these records in their homes. You're going to have all the versions of all this stuff on bootlegs and tape and vinyl. After a while though, you're kid's gonna eat them, you're dog's gonna shit on them and your second wife will throw them out. So why don't you guys go form your own bands, or why don't you go find some and then you'll find some dirty bitches and get laid and you'll have a good time.

'You dirty little sod ... you want to make it with a dwarf.'

epub or mobi

He was a lovely guy, used to have a queers' club in the Haymarket, before the law changed, and that was where I met [names of famous stars deleted] and Shaky Sheila, who ran three clip-joints. Soho was always dangerous. It was dangerous in those days, when you had the Italian gangs and the Maltese; it was dangerous when the Krays were there, and it's still dangerous now with the Chinese. Soho has always been a dangerous place. There has always been sex and violence, with people disappearing without a trace. Nothing's changed, only the people who run the show. Most of the punters who came to Soho got what they came for. Sometimes you'd get the odd one who was a bit cheeky. Then I'd have to give 'em a backhander and tell 'em to get on their bike. The girls would come down to the pub if a geezer was causing problems. You'd get these guys who were quite happy being silly until they had to pay for it. I'd sort them out. No one asked them to come. ... 

Last time I was in the nick for anything serious was in 1980. The same time another feller comes in called Hugh Cornwell. Said he was lead guitarist with a pop group called The Stranglers. He had been done for drugs offences.

'I'm Hugh Cornwell,' he says.

'Oh,yeah.'

'I'm with The Stranglers.'

'Big deal!' I gave him a bucket and a brush and told him to clean the floor. No mop. Just a scrubbing brush. And he did not like it. I tell you: HE DID NOT LIKE IT!