Wot with being educated in sarf London, one left skool not well-endowed on the grammar front. Upon realisation of how the wrong 2 can leave a whole sentence in complete error—‘knackered’ as they say where I come from—I recoiled in utmost terror.
With great Gusto, I tried to get much better. Gusto—guess what—did really great, while I just mediocre. Correct me if wrong, I’ll be glad. But a two-way street it’s apparently not, as discovered to my bad.
Madge, me and the Brixton Academy; the latest entry in the Diary of a Mad Pest Controller.
It’s only with hindsight that I realise what a ‘playground‘ London was for me from the mid-eighties (when becoming old enough to do as I pleased) to the late nineties; when changes started running so deep they were impossible to miss and/or ignore.
“I could be a writer with a growing reputation; I could be the ticket man at Fulham Broadway Station. What a waste . . . What a waste.”
I used to walk past that ticket man made famous by Ian Dury’s lyrics on regular occasion. Going to and from Chelsea matches at Stamford Bridge. It was always a man, as I remember. Not that I paid too much attention.
Except for one particular Wednesday night game against Continue reading
We all know someone who posts them, but never do it ourselves . . . Continue reading
It’s said buses always come in threes. If you’re stuck waiting for one without anything in sight or are maybe on one and not particularly enjoying the ambience, here’s three poems about them to help pass the time at least.
Reflections on the Thames from an early 90s London Bridge.
How the BBC exploited equality for its own social media gain:
A Life of Crime vs. The Free Market Supplemental
‘The Elephant and Castle shopping centre, once a symbol of hope and regeneration could be on its last legs…’ started a BBC article published while I was in the throes of finishing The Life of Crime vs. series.
If hearing a similar statement when living nearby—permanently 1984 to 86 and then again 1988 to 99—I would’ve partied hard like it was the latter year.
A Life of Crime vs. The Free Market V
The fact literally no one was at work (except whoever ran where we ate; was at the market to say it was closed; and opened the club, obviously), had me anticipate the club being Continue reading