Photo op lunches

There is a pic bouncing round of Obama and Hilary Clinton enjoying a 'relaxed' lunch together. Never have two people tried so hard to look relaxed. Also the table is set for two, therefore whoever took thr pic has been brought along specially. Who brings a photographer or invites one to a relaxed lunch between two friends.
Also the food must have been lousy, as neither seem to be showing any inclination to tuck in. 

Punk Footnotes #3 Stiff Little Fingers -Johnny Was

'This is a song written by Bob Marley
About a guy getting shot
For being in the wrong place
At the wrong time
This is
Johnny Was'

So Jake Burn's introduced  the song on Hanx over the sound of a snare drum thrumming like in a marching band. Turning this 3 minute Marley album track into this sprawling 10 min howl of pain against the cheapness of life in Belfast was their finest achievement.

Though most famous for the more straight forward hardcore of Suspect Device, Alternative Ulster and Wasted Life, it is in Johnny Was that one can see the scale of the potential they had at the start. On there later albums there was always a workman like Reggae cover, Roots Radcials and Love of the Common People. But these were at best worthy. Johnny Was is much more, it takes the original but completely reinterprets it, placing it in a setting so vivid that when Burns sings 'a shot rings out, in a Belfast night' he could be singing about nowhere else.

Though they enjoyed a few hits and good commercial success, they always seemed trapped by the brilliant first album Inflammable Material. That explosion of rage was always going to be hard to follow. They lacked the musical and stylistic agility of The Clash. Deciding to stop writing about Ulster once in London got them accused of being dishonest, and the quality of the material drifted gradually away. They still exist in some incarnation with the bespectacled square head of Burns leading the line.

There are numerous versions of Johnny Was out there. For me the version recorded at The Rainbow for Hanx! is probably the finest.

Odd thoughts #1- The Moth

The Moth! An austerity superhero. Lives in the sock draw and renders villains ridiculous by making holes in their underwear.

Not sure the movie pitch will make me enough to retire on.

Not entirely sure why I wrote this down, probably something to with having shellfish for dinner. Or not.

For the avoidance of doubt

For those confused in this complex world here is a handy guide to wearing our nations flag and shouting.
Standing around on Mt Ventoux during the TdF wrapped in the Union Jack and Shouting = Being British Cycling Fan= Ok (mostly)
Standing around in Croydon on a Saturday afternoon wrapped in the Union Jack and Shouting= Being an EVF Nazi= Not ok (under any circumstances)

Tweet of Shame

As far as feminist campaigns go, Caroline Criado-Perez pushing for Jane Austen to appear on our banknotes was a pretty modest one. The fallout has been astonishing. Criado-Perez has been subjected to a sustained barrage of threats and abuse via social media. I find it completely incomprehensible why because of what she has  said any man would threaten  rape. I cannot begin to guess what is going on in these guys heads, the poison and hate that must live there. But maybe I now have a better insight into  what misogyny looks like. Nasty stuff. 

A Women's Tour de France

I hope that Brian Cookson's public support for a Women's Tour is not just part of his campaign to be President of the UCI. Somebody of his stature throwing their weight behind it after the Tour's rather sniffy response could be a breakthrough. On the track, representing their countries Women riders have made huge leaps in recent years, and when given equal billing on the road, like at the Olympics deliver the goods. In Bejing Nicole Cooke delivered a win in a thrilling race, while in London Armisted only came up short to Vos, a true great.

But when it comes to professional road racing Women riders are getting a lousy deal, and as a result the fans are missing out. The shameful disparity in the incomes of riders was revealed when Cooke highlighted that as Olympic and World Champion she was earning £50k a year.

If you want to watch Women's road racing on TV well fat chance. Oddly because of ITV's coverage of the Johnson Healthtec series you have a better chance of seeing women riders in this slightly low rent domestic races than competing in the big World Cup events. ITV4 and Eurosport show little interest in covering these races, but at least there is a Women's Tour of Flanders. When it comes to the most famous and most prestigious cycling event in the world, nothing.

It was probably a bit rude door stepping Christian Prudomme on this issue when he came here to promote next years Grand Depart in Yorkshire. But his response, basically its all to hard, was weak. The sport has a duty to tackle this inequality, a duty most have shirked so far.  

Our Tour de France - Away with the OPCC

I have recently come back from an Old Ports trip to France to follow the tour. It is events like this that remind me about the benefit of being part of a cycling club. Now there a plenty who don’t like the club thing for whatever reason, but for me it has opened up worlds that there is no way I would have accessed otherwise. There are places I have been and things I have experienced in the last seven years that I will enjoy forever, which I would never have experienced if I had not rocked up to a Saturday club run one January morning.

The kind of trip we have just enjoyed would have cost a fortune if one had tried to book it commercially. But Iain did the bulk of the organising for the love of the sport and Cloudie and Kev backed up on the driving. Ok we were subject to Iain’s frugal hotel choices and rooming arrangements. (Lesson, bring your own partner otherwise you never know who will be in the bed next to you.)

There are a couple of things that always leap out at me when I go back to France. Firstly, though clichéd there are parts of Provence that are a Garden of Eden, some of the most beautiful landscapes one could ever hope to ride through. Secondly, how accessible and friendly France can be. Sitting by the river in Ile en de Sorgue on Bastille Day enjoying a lovely meal in the company of friends, absolutely brilliant. Some of the food was mind blowing, even a day’s climbing could not give Julian the appetite to finish one of his steaks, lovely has it was. Three of us had a go and there was still meat on the bone.

I love riding the road the tour goes over. It just builds ones admiration for the riders. Anyone who a descended Col de Sarenne knows just what a tricky bugger that is. To ride it eyeball out as the pros did – full on respect. The return to the world of work was not easy.

National Pride - Oh no not here as well

I am no stranger to national allegiance in sport. In my teens I would even troop off to Wembley to watch Ron Greenwood or Bobby Robson’s England Teams draw or lose to the likes of Greece and Denmark. I would watch in wrapped agony on TV as Viv Richards humbled the English Bowling before the Windies bowlers put our batsmen to the sword. I sat through every Olympics since Brendan Foster fell short in 1976 rooting for our girls and boys. With tear filled eyes turning and asking that question 'Father, is there a sport we aren't completely crap at?'

It was the Tour de France when Lance was set to break the record number of wins that I got interested in cycle sport.  I had just bought a Ridgeback Hybrid and was congratulating myself on completing a 16 mile ride to Bromley and back. Feeling like a proper cyclist I bought a copy of Cycling Weekly. It was the pre Tour Edition full of the stories of the previous riders who had managed five wins, and a review of the teams.

With the help of ITV2’s coverage, always nicely aimed at the uninitiated, for the first time I started to understand how the race worked. How the teams worked, that is was not just a mob of blokes hammering up the road seeing who could get to the end first. Well it is and it isn’t.  I started to understand the difference between the GC contenders and the Sprinters. Lance was an easy pantomime villain, Tommy Voeckler battling away, Jan Ullrich sliding away. All wonderfully free from any national pride issues. There were no British riders. Not even a humble domestique. There was no British hope, I was completely free to get behind the riders I liked and wish ill up those I did not.

It was Cav who started spoiling this, but it was easy enough, Cav is the kind of rider I would have enjoyed even if he was Belgian, Spanish or French. The flamboyance in Victory and defeat. Still there was no threat to the GC, Millar and Wiggo were visible but not contenders, the sharp end of the race was in the hands of others. Then it wasn’t. Wiggo came 4^th. Then Sky appear, planning to win with a Brit. It started to feel like every other fucking sport again. My ability to enjoy the simple beauty of the racing being undermined by national sympathies.  Then Wiggo wins, then Froome is the favourite and I’m standing on Mount Ventoux holding a flag.

I had always found the throng of nationalities on the mountains part of the thrill, those strange Basque flags, the Lion of Flanders. While I suspect those regional flags probably have some political significance I am not required to acknowledge this. Its just part of the spectacle.

But standing on Alp d’Huez I found myself opposite a man wearing a bikini because he had lost a bet. Wearing in a Union Jack like a Sarong he wiggled his arse around while his girlfriend, in a Ginger Spice dress asked the men in Orange where they were from.  Their friends enthusiastically engaged with (harassed, annoyed, intimidated) anyone passing while tackling bottles of beer and red wine. A club mate suggested we should have pretended to be German.  I concluded that national allegiance is much more appealing in a language one does not understand.

Lukewarm response to Froome's TdF win

With the dust settling on both the Tour de France and the Old Portlians own mini tour this is a good chance to share some thoughts.

I would say that despite a fair bit of coverage last weekend by today the Chris Froome’s Tour win has safely sunk below the surface of media attention. Even in the immediate aftermath of his win a good few commentators were asking why in comparison to Wiggo last year, Froome had not captured the public imagination.

On one level this does seem odd; the manner of Froome’s win was at least as deserving. This was a far tougher parcour. Wiggo’s make time in the TT’s and defend in the mountains tactic would have been wretchedly exposed this time. And in 2012 the Sky team worked like clockwork throughout while this time they often looked brittle, Froome on several occasions is left to fend for himself. Beyond this Froome rode an attacking race, making time in the TT’s but also taking his opponent on in the high mountains in the process claiming some fantastic stage wins. To win a stage at the top of the Ventoux while in yellow in itself a huge achievement.

But then why the slightly downbeat reception.  Well, being the second to win is never quite the same as being the first, but it was the 100^th edition so special in other ways. Some have pointed to Froome’s ‘Britishness.’ Born in Kenya and educated in South Africa he doesn’t sound like he comes from Kilburn. While Wiggo was born abroad, he did grow up here and cut his teeth racing in Kent.  But to be fair we have learnt to love plenty of ‘English’ Cricketers who have more than a hint of somewhere else in their accent.

Others have suggested it is because he lacks Wiggo’s charisma. Now, I have to say I am something of an agnostic when it comes to Wiggo’s charm. A taste for Dadrock, Britpop swearing and sideburns does not maketh a personality. While some seem to appreciate his geezerish banter, it often seems crass to me.  Froome’s measured poignant and humble victory speech was appropriate to the occasion, when Wiggo’s raffle ticket ramblings fell a long way short. That said cool headed professionalism is not always a short cut to the nations hearts. David Beckham could become golden balls not just because he took descent free kicks. Disgrace, allowed him to seek redemption. A far more fetching story.

But for me another factor is surround success. For those old enough to remember, it was amazing how the British public could learn to care about ice skating when Robin Cousins or Torvill and Dean were our only medal prospect in the winter Olympics. On the Ventoux and Alp d’Huez there was no shortage of British fans, and cycling is a sport on the rise. But that is from a tiny niche base. We have few if any ancient grudges in cycling, there are no old rivalries that make defeat sting and victory sing. It is important to remember that last summer the Tour finished before the Olympics but after yet another disappointing England performance in football and yet another Wimbledon where our guy did not quite make it. This year it has arrive like the small chocolate with the bill in a curry house. Massive wins for the Lions, some dominant showings in the Ashes and that so long yearned for victory in Tennis has given the wider sporting public plenty to fear on. No need to dwell too long on something a little bit foreign. If the Aussies has sent the Lions packing, and England were following on in the Test, and Murray was once again rueing what might have been maybe we would have clung more passionately to this victory.

Honey Bane, There's a story in here somewhere

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honey_Bane

If you are aged between 45 and 50 there is a small, actually tiny chance that you might remember Honey Bane. The high point, at least in commercial terms was her single 'Turn me on turn me off' that made 37 in the charts in 1980 and earned her a Top of the Pops appearance. It stuck in my memory because when Peter Powell introduced her he told us she was 16, which to the 14 year old me was pretty impressive. I was not taken by the tune, a bit of sub X-Ray Spex new wave, and her star did not linger long.

I was not sorry the song did not progress, but was surprised a couple of years later seeing she had credits for backing vocals on the Angelic Upstarts album. Seemed an odd connection, though as the album was produced by Jimmy Pursey the reason may become clear.  But what pricked my interest recently was seeing that she had released a song on Crass Records, 'You can be You' a couple of years before her moment in the sun on TotP. Now whatever Crass were up to it wasn't trying to promote teeny pop. It nudged me look a bit further and what emerges is quite a story.

The 14 year old Donna Boylan forms a punk band in 1978, Fatal Microbes. Ok there were probably a few thousand similar bands at the time but this mob had sufficient wherewithal to release a joint single was anarcho punks Poison Girls. Now we are already someway off the beaten track for the average 14 year old. But things seemed to take a sharp turn for the worse when she spent time in a youth detention centre. It was following this that she linked up with Crass, and released the single under the awful name of 'Donna and the Kebabs' while allegedly on the run from Social Services. That she found some kind of refuge at Dial House in the company of people like Penny Rimbaud and Gee Vaucher is kind of amazing in itself. But stardom was yet to beckon, she followed her time with Crass with had another stint in youth detention.

After singing with Killing Joke  she was picked up by Jimmy Pursey of Sham 69 who became her manager. This led to a deal with EMI and the hit single as Honey Bane. 

Once safely dropped by her label an acting career followed. The highlight of this was, by a horrible irony, a major role in the film Scrubbers. Alongside the likes of Kathy Burke she was part of a story about life in girls Borstal.  I guess there must have been only so much acting involved.

From what Wikipedia has to share the acting career was not lasting and rather cryptically states that 'Bane spent the remainder of the 1980s as a pin-up model for erotic magazines.'

On one level  she seems to have been kicking out at a world, that to quote the Libertines 'kicked back an awful lot harder'. At the same time there must have been something pretty remarkable about this girl to have enjoyed that patronage of Crass, Poison Girls, Sham 69 and Killing Joke before her 17th birthday.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honey_Bane

Newtown Neurotics - Footnote to a Punk Footnote

Browsing iTunes I stumbled across a half forgotten band from my teens. The Newtown Neurotics were never that big a name, even in their heyday. They dished out a kind of punk that sat somewhere between the Ramones and Billy Bragg and they hung around with the ranting poet Attila the Stockbroker. I saw them at a tiny festival in Bermondsey in the early 80's. They seemed a likable bunch and got the modest crowd bouncing around. Their most lasting legacy was the tub thumping anthem 'Lets Kick out the Tories'  a  song that  is as enthusiastic and naïve as the title suggests.

But listening to their stuff again, away from the rather obvious sloganeering there is something more interesting at work. The lyrics of  'Agony' and' Mind of Valerie' explore domestic violence, depression and compromised masculinity in a way that was pretty unusual for the early 80's. Lines like 'I know I am wrong, but the fury drives me on, cry is all I want to do, cry instead of bruising you' and 'whenever I get a bee in my bonnet its always you who gets stung' move the band into considerably more emotionally complex territory than most of their piers. Which kind of begs the question why would a band capable of this be satisfied with releasing a straight cover of Blitzkrieg Bop? Can't answer that one, but I am glad that this odd little footnote exists and hope that wherever they are today good things have come to them.

Reg Barnett - Nicest Cycling Story You Hear This Week

The smiling man in the Photo is one Reg Barnett. For those who are not big on their cycling history Reg was a Pro racer in the late 60's and 70's excelling in the track sprint. Nowadays he enjoys a slower pace of life, taking in  the odd pint at his local in Shoreham. As well as a bike racer he also built his own bikes and happened to mention this to one of his friends.
A few days ago he arrived at the pub to see something strange standing in the fire place. There in all its glory was one of the bikes that carried his name. Inspired by his story his friends had scoured E-bay and tracked down one of his creations and bought it as a surprise. The smile on his face will tell you what it meant to him.

Schools In -Forever

So Mr Gove wants schools to be free to set term dates, doing away with the 6 week summer break. I am so glad I am not a child right now. I still remember how wonderful those long breaks were, the kind of windows of freedom one only gets to enjoy as a child. The main benefit of this act of scroogery, according to those asked seems to be - 'a shorter break makes it easier for parents who struggle with child care.' So is that the reason children go to school, massed childminding to help their parents work longer  more easily?
I find it odd that Mr Gove seems determined to wrench education away from the tyranny of local government, (which is what this is really about) while enjoying playing with it himself like a huge version of The Sims.

Rapha and the Mamils

Enjoyed the article in today's Observer about Rapha and 'middle aged men in Lycra' (Mamils).
With a small cringe I acknowledge that I spend more time, thought and money on what I am going to wear riding to work than on what I wear once I get there. That probably makes me a bad person but hey.....