The continuing adventures of rock n roll in Selfridges.
I awoke on the Saturday morning from an odd dream. Dave vanian had been bopping around my head all night, singing a most unfamiliar song and seemingly shorter than he usually is. Not to worry, no less weird than the dreams most of us have so I paid it no mind. Miss Claudia and I then trundled from a soho lunch onto sainsburys (sorry selfridges), to make our appointment with uncle malc. The same shambles as the ticket allocation ensued, and the 2 o clock start time came and went. But I had a plan..a cunning plan. A very tall man in a designer striped jacket took the mic and announced himself the compare. He looked a lot like William burroughs and was so familiar, but I couldnt place him. Then he started reading from his book and the penny dropped, it was kid/Richard strange from the doctors of madness, now this was a treat. I hadnt seen him since a gig at the music machine in 78 when dave vanian did a short stint on vocals prior to the doomed, well thats the dream explained. Hes a huge bloke. He told various tales and then came uncle malc. Now he doesnt look very well, in fact I was thinking that he might not make it through the talk.he was quiet and distant, seemingly grasping for his thoughts for the 1st 10 minutes, which were largely his views on post war London. Personally I find this more interesting than the rehashed pistols story, and his slant on this is amusing, concentrating on spivs and french prostitutes. But he didnt look well, never mind, I had a plan. He rambled on and on, and sounding all the more like not just a drunken uncle, but a pervy, creepy one to, explaning how he loved all those underage kids, hitching to come to his shop, or shopping for the porno shirts with their mums and how he was now designing for 12-4 year olds, the 8bit generation he called them. Well this went on for nearly 2 hours and my arse was getting very numb for the school type chairs we were sat on. There was a q and abut the answers took 10 mins each and never arrived at a conclusion, so there were only 4 and to be frank they were dull, pistols related usuals.
Never mind I have a.a film came on and uncle retired to the bar and seized my chance. I was wearing one of my homemade shirts and had the cuffs turned up so they looked plain white.
hello I said sideling up
I was one of those hitching kids
oh really says he, looking shiftily around.
yes, would sign my shirt please? and thrust forward the cuff.
of course he says, still searching. have you got a cigarette? he asked.
He signed the cuff very nicely and looked to me for the white stick.
I flipped over the cuff, revealing a chaos skull and said swindled!
Now he maybe ill, and looking all of his 60 years, but hes still sharp and understood instantly what had just happened. Having signed it, he had just authenticated a forgery/fake/copy /bootleg of his own work.
like it ! says he, now thats anarchy!
he was then swamped by all manner of shaking, nervous, middle aged men, clutching armfuls of never mind the bollocks and pictures etc, so never got his cigarette. Miss Claudia and I left for home. We missed bob gruen and pat gilbert, but the spell was broken and our arses were just too sore too take anymore. My only regret was not talking to kid, who seemed to vapourize, but I did listen to the good doctors that night and enjoyed them again. Maybe well go see big brother don today.
miss claudia
malcolm mclaren
[IMG]
http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d98/mechanoia/malc.jpg
[/IMG]
.......the swindle.....
.....is revealed
leaving the scene of the sting and a bemused uncle
I awoke on the Saturday morning from an odd dream. Dave vanian had been bopping around my head all night, singing a most unfamiliar song and seemingly shorter than he usually is. Not to worry, no less weird than the dreams most of us have so I paid it no mind. Miss Claudia and I then trundled from a soho lunch onto sainsburys (sorry selfridges), to make our appointment with uncle malc. The same shambles as the ticket allocation ensued, and the 2 o clock start time came and went. But I had a plan..a cunning plan. A very tall man in a designer striped jacket took the mic and announced himself the compare. He looked a lot like William burroughs and was so familiar, but I couldnt place him. Then he started reading from his book and the penny dropped, it was kid/Richard strange from the doctors of madness, now this was a treat. I hadnt seen him since a gig at the music machine in 78 when dave vanian did a short stint on vocals prior to the doomed, well thats the dream explained. Hes a huge bloke. He told various tales and then came uncle malc. Now he doesnt look very well, in fact I was thinking that he might not make it through the talk.he was quiet and distant, seemingly grasping for his thoughts for the 1st 10 minutes, which were largely his views on post war London. Personally I find this more interesting than the rehashed pistols story, and his slant on this is amusing, concentrating on spivs and french prostitutes. But he didnt look well, never mind, I had a plan. He rambled on and on, and sounding all the more like not just a drunken uncle, but a pervy, creepy one to, explaning how he loved all those underage kids, hitching to come to his shop, or shopping for the porno shirts with their mums and how he was now designing for 12-4 year olds, the 8bit generation he called them. Well this went on for nearly 2 hours and my arse was getting very numb for the school type chairs we were sat on. There was a q and abut the answers took 10 mins each and never arrived at a conclusion, so there were only 4 and to be frank they were dull, pistols related usuals.
Never mind I have a.a film came on and uncle retired to the bar and seized my chance. I was wearing one of my homemade shirts and had the cuffs turned up so they looked plain white.
hello I said sideling up
I was one of those hitching kids
oh really says he, looking shiftily around.
yes, would sign my shirt please? and thrust forward the cuff.
of course he says, still searching. have you got a cigarette? he asked.
He signed the cuff very nicely and looked to me for the white stick.
I flipped over the cuff, revealing a chaos skull and said swindled!
Now he maybe ill, and looking all of his 60 years, but hes still sharp and understood instantly what had just happened. Having signed it, he had just authenticated a forgery/fake/copy /bootleg of his own work.
like it ! says he, now thats anarchy!
he was then swamped by all manner of shaking, nervous, middle aged men, clutching armfuls of never mind the bollocks and pictures etc, so never got his cigarette. Miss Claudia and I left for home. We missed bob gruen and pat gilbert, but the spell was broken and our arses were just too sore too take anymore. My only regret was not talking to kid, who seemed to vapourize, but I did listen to the good doctors that night and enjoyed them again. Maybe well go see big brother don today.
miss claudia
malcolm mclaren
[IMG]
http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d98/mechanoia/malc.jpg
[/IMG]
.......the swindle.....
.....is revealed
leaving the scene of the sting and a bemused uncle
when those pix first flashed up I though for a second that you'd got him to sign your pants, but the I realised you don't wear pants now do you darling...
GOOD WORK MR D.