onionbagblog
Rec Off
Wednesday night is Retro night in Brixton; it was a Back to Basics old skool slag off Lambeth Council session in the Town Hall this week. A 'baying Brixton mob' (get in there!) gathered to deliver judgment on the public servant knobbers that are piss poor at providing leisure provision in the officially fifth worst local authority in the UK.
Impassioned speeches from the floor, hastily arranged hustings in dimly lit corridors and a bloody brilliant bonkers Brixton moment when the leader of Lambeth Council was publicly dressed down with:
'Yes - you! Stop grinning at me you smug little shit.'
Guilty as charged, Comrades.
The reason for such radicalism is of course the imminent three month closure of Brixton Rec. No consultation with the users, a third-party sub-contractor deal that is even less watertight than the leaking pool, plus a 23% price increase, just so that we can have the pleasure of staring up at some plasma screen bollocks whilst bemoaning the fact that none of the machines in the gym actually work.
One item dominated the agenda at the monthly Brixton Area Forum, and it wasn't the threatened SW8 uprising after learning earlier in the evening that my re-cycling day is about to change from Tuesdays to Thursdays.
Brixton Rec is at the heart of the community. I realised this after locking up Mr Wilson of Peckham shortly after 7pm; a fencing class for kids was taking place in the lower sports hall, a support group for young mothers was making its way upstairs, along with the unicycle hockey players heading for their weekly one-wheeled fix.
Sport For All, etc, plus many more weird and wonderful activities all under one leaking roof.
This is set to disappear as of Friday for 'three months.' This is the time period that the Lambeth Council knobbers have set aside to refurbish the Rec (again,) combined with convincing the new sub-contractors they haven't made an almighty cock up in working with a local authority whose failure in leisure provision is on par with its record on Rotten Borough appearances in Private Eye.
Is the refurbishment a smokescreen to try and sort out the muddled and murky world of privatisation of a public service? I have plenty of civic pride, but little faith in my elected civil servants.
Yes - you! You smug little shit, etc...
And so after leaving Mr Wilson locked up at my spiritual SW9 home, I arrived early for once outside the Town Hall and took my place on the steps with the rest of the Brixton Rec Users campaigning for Free Badminton For All.
A few rallying cries outside ('Don't close the Rec! Consultation not closure! Piss poor management of the kiddie piss pool!') and then it was time for the Forum to begin.
I was sitting in the very same hall where some four years previously, Lambeth Council had promised a 'quick and smooth transition of the handover of Brockwell Lido to a third party sub-contractor.' Self-styled 'leisure lifestyle' knobbers Fusion may just get round to getting their hands on our filthy lucre for the first time late summer.
Being a free for all forum, anyone within shouting distance of Brixton tube is given a voice to speak. Given that Brixton boasts some of the loudest voices in London, that's an awful lot of points of view to be put across.
Brixton Green (stop sniggering) was given an unexpected captive audience, campaigning to regenerate Brixton environmentally by using local businesses as the infrastructure for change.
A fine speech by some local business type, and then the Man With A Suit (yes - you! Smug little shit etc...) gave the professional (barely) politicians spin about how Lambeth is 'tackling climate change, putting your own house in order first blah blah blah bollocks.'
So said the Man With a Suit running a council that allows nuclear waste to be transported through the town centre at 11am every fucking morning.
Questions were invited from the floor, and we had another bloody brilliant barmy Brixton moment when some Old Boy rather eloquently enquired what Brixton Green planned to do to revive the old sport of wrestling in SW9.
I FUCKING LOVE LVING IN BRIXTON (ish)
The bare-faced cheek of the Man With a Suit as he spoke more bollocks about 'building upon sports provision.'
And so with the wrestling sideshow beaten into submission, it was time for the main event, grapple fans:
The BRU raggle taggle bunch of fitness freaks, wall climbers and University of Dub tokers taking on the Lambeth Council knobbers. Three submissions or a knock out, tag team tactics allowed and how dare you suggest that the bout is already fixed with the Lambeth Council knobbers not giving a flying fuck about consultation as the investment from Greenwich Leisure will bail the smug little shits out of a financial black hole?
Let's get ready to rumble!
The un-named architects 'presented' their back of a fag packet plans in the foyer at the Town Hall. It all looked lovely - some pink squares here, an adjacent green blob and some pot plants to fill out the corners.
But wait - what's this? Where's the bloody swimming pool?
As absent as any information regarding the closure of the Rec coming from the Council.
But first off we had to suffer the spin from Councilor Lib Peck, the Cabinet Member for Environment and Culture. The Rec IS my environment and the University of Dub is my cultural upbringing. She had my attention, if not my trust.
Secrecy clauses, apologies for lack of information and once again the professional political spin of new and improved discount cards, all added to disguise the 23.5% overall price increase.
You break our legs, and we say thank you when you give us crutches.
But not in Brixton, Lib.
The open mic was handed over to the floor and a sea of hands was raised, making me wonder if the question 'put your hand up if you think the Lambeth Council knobbers can't be trusted' was being asked.
The justification of 'bringing prices in line with the rest of London' was ripped apart. Brixton is very different to Kensington & Chelsea, plus the piss take Council Tax rates that we pay are supposed to include provision for leisure.
A wonderful speech from a young Muslim worshipper who uses the Rec for Friday morning prayers left Councilor Lib with no response. The Brixton Mosque has yet to receive any notification of the closure of their weekly place of worship. Plus one of the few details in the plans that is identifiable is that the previously separate Men and Women's saunas are now to be mixed. Not ideal for some users with religious beliefs.
Wise words from the University of Dub, who reminded the Man With the Suit that:
'You are on the pay roll of Mr Blair. Mr Blair is an evil man. You will have another riot on your hands if we can't rave until five in the morning every Friday night.'
I FUCKING LOVE BRIXTON.
And now for something completely different...
The Brixton Climbing Club presented the Man With a Suit the 500 membership applications from users wanting to use the only climbing wall in South London. The climbing wall is also absent from the back of a fag packet architectural plans.
So many questions, so little answers. It was a fine way to spend three hours on a Wednesday evening, but I left Lambeth Town Hall with even less confidence in my local elected representatives, and genuine fear for the future of the Rec.
I walked back to the Rec to be re-united with Mr Wilson. With the shutters to the Rec closing, the fencing kids had by now been replaced along Piss Alley with the fucked up junkies. Close the Rec for three months and this will become a familiar scene.
technorati: brixton rec
| Thursday 29 March, 2007 |
Wednesday night is Retro night in Brixton; it was a Back to Basics old skool slag off Lambeth Council session in the Town Hall this week. A 'baying Brixton mob' (get in there!) gathered to deliver judgment on the public servant knobbers that are piss poor at providing leisure provision in the officially fifth worst local authority in the UK.
 Blah blah blah bollocks... |
'Yes - you! Stop grinning at me you smug little shit.'
Guilty as charged, Comrades.
The reason for such radicalism is of course the imminent three month closure of Brixton Rec. No consultation with the users, a third-party sub-contractor deal that is even less watertight than the leaking pool, plus a 23% price increase, just so that we can have the pleasure of staring up at some plasma screen bollocks whilst bemoaning the fact that none of the machines in the gym actually work.
One item dominated the agenda at the monthly Brixton Area Forum, and it wasn't the threatened SW8 uprising after learning earlier in the evening that my re-cycling day is about to change from Tuesdays to Thursdays.
Brixton Rec is at the heart of the community. I realised this after locking up Mr Wilson of Peckham shortly after 7pm; a fencing class for kids was taking place in the lower sports hall, a support group for young mothers was making its way upstairs, along with the unicycle hockey players heading for their weekly one-wheeled fix.
Sport For All, etc, plus many more weird and wonderful activities all under one leaking roof.
This is set to disappear as of Friday for 'three months.' This is the time period that the Lambeth Council knobbers have set aside to refurbish the Rec (again,) combined with convincing the new sub-contractors they haven't made an almighty cock up in working with a local authority whose failure in leisure provision is on par with its record on Rotten Borough appearances in Private Eye.
Is the refurbishment a smokescreen to try and sort out the muddled and murky world of privatisation of a public service? I have plenty of civic pride, but little faith in my elected civil servants.
Yes - you! You smug little shit, etc...
And so after leaving Mr Wilson locked up at my spiritual SW9 home, I arrived early for once outside the Town Hall and took my place on the steps with the rest of the Brixton Rec Users campaigning for Free Badminton For All.
A few rallying cries outside ('Don't close the Rec! Consultation not closure! Piss poor management of the kiddie piss pool!') and then it was time for the Forum to begin.
I was sitting in the very same hall where some four years previously, Lambeth Council had promised a 'quick and smooth transition of the handover of Brockwell Lido to a third party sub-contractor.' Self-styled 'leisure lifestyle' knobbers Fusion may just get round to getting their hands on our filthy lucre for the first time late summer.
Being a free for all forum, anyone within shouting distance of Brixton tube is given a voice to speak. Given that Brixton boasts some of the loudest voices in London, that's an awful lot of points of view to be put across.
Brixton Green (stop sniggering) was given an unexpected captive audience, campaigning to regenerate Brixton environmentally by using local businesses as the infrastructure for change.
A fine speech by some local business type, and then the Man With A Suit (yes - you! Smug little shit etc...) gave the professional (barely) politicians spin about how Lambeth is 'tackling climate change, putting your own house in order first blah blah blah bollocks.'
So said the Man With a Suit running a council that allows nuclear waste to be transported through the town centre at 11am every fucking morning.
Questions were invited from the floor, and we had another bloody brilliant barmy Brixton moment when some Old Boy rather eloquently enquired what Brixton Green planned to do to revive the old sport of wrestling in SW9.
I FUCKING LOVE LVING IN BRIXTON (ish)
The bare-faced cheek of the Man With a Suit as he spoke more bollocks about 'building upon sports provision.'
And so with the wrestling sideshow beaten into submission, it was time for the main event, grapple fans:
The BRU raggle taggle bunch of fitness freaks, wall climbers and University of Dub tokers taking on the Lambeth Council knobbers. Three submissions or a knock out, tag team tactics allowed and how dare you suggest that the bout is already fixed with the Lambeth Council knobbers not giving a flying fuck about consultation as the investment from Greenwich Leisure will bail the smug little shits out of a financial black hole?
Let's get ready to rumble!
The un-named architects 'presented' their back of a fag packet plans in the foyer at the Town Hall. It all looked lovely - some pink squares here, an adjacent green blob and some pot plants to fill out the corners.
But wait - what's this? Where's the bloody swimming pool?
As absent as any information regarding the closure of the Rec coming from the Council.
But first off we had to suffer the spin from Councilor Lib Peck, the Cabinet Member for Environment and Culture. The Rec IS my environment and the University of Dub is my cultural upbringing. She had my attention, if not my trust.
Secrecy clauses, apologies for lack of information and once again the professional political spin of new and improved discount cards, all added to disguise the 23.5% overall price increase.
You break our legs, and we say thank you when you give us crutches.
But not in Brixton, Lib.
The open mic was handed over to the floor and a sea of hands was raised, making me wonder if the question 'put your hand up if you think the Lambeth Council knobbers can't be trusted' was being asked.
The justification of 'bringing prices in line with the rest of London' was ripped apart. Brixton is very different to Kensington & Chelsea, plus the piss take Council Tax rates that we pay are supposed to include provision for leisure.
A wonderful speech from a young Muslim worshipper who uses the Rec for Friday morning prayers left Councilor Lib with no response. The Brixton Mosque has yet to receive any notification of the closure of their weekly place of worship. Plus one of the few details in the plans that is identifiable is that the previously separate Men and Women's saunas are now to be mixed. Not ideal for some users with religious beliefs.
Wise words from the University of Dub, who reminded the Man With the Suit that:
'You are on the pay roll of Mr Blair. Mr Blair is an evil man. You will have another riot on your hands if we can't rave until five in the morning every Friday night.'
I FUCKING LOVE BRIXTON.
And now for something completely different...
The Brixton Climbing Club presented the Man With a Suit the 500 membership applications from users wanting to use the only climbing wall in South London. The climbing wall is also absent from the back of a fag packet architectural plans.
So many questions, so little answers. It was a fine way to spend three hours on a Wednesday evening, but I left Lambeth Town Hall with even less confidence in my local elected representatives, and genuine fear for the future of the Rec.
I walked back to the Rec to be re-united with Mr Wilson. With the shutters to the Rec closing, the fencing kids had by now been replaced along Piss Alley with the fucked up junkies. Close the Rec for three months and this will become a familiar scene.
technorati: brixton rec
| #permalink |
In Lein
It's a Wide-Angled Wednesday break away from the usual words whilst I re-charge the batteries (on the v good V3) and storm Lambeth Town Hall topunch some smug local knobber Councillor on the nose and remind him that Brixton Rec is far more important for this community than his crappy plan to close the centre and install plasma screen bollocks attend the Brixton Area Forum.
Phew. I'm pleased we've cleared that one up.
On the photo front and I'm still learning with the v good V3. Leinster Gardens, W2 was where Mr Way We See It sent us off to at the weekend. As per usual, I got very lost at the Marble Arch junction and almost ended up in St John's Wood.
A bit of backtracking and soon I was Bayswater bound. Leinster Gardens sums up the phrase 'former glory.' Beautiful Georgian buildings either converted into some sleazy stay over for foreign gentleman, or worse still, left to decay and become the focus for amateur photographers with a fascination in peeling paint.
People watching was an option and I would have loved to have gone into Lomo mode once again ('exciting news' to follow later on the Lomo front...) Sadly I was short on time and possible escape routes should a Lomo subject in waiting express a desire to punch my lights out.
I've got a proper portrait photo session booked in for Friday, and so I'll get to stick my wide-angled wonder in all the wrong places where it really shouldn't be pointed.
Now then - local knobber Councillor shouty shouty time...
technorati: leinster gardens
| Wednesday 28 March, 2007 |
It's a Wide-Angled Wednesday break away from the usual words whilst I re-charge the batteries (on the v good V3) and storm Lambeth Town Hall to
Phew. I'm pleased we've cleared that one up.
I got lost... |
A bit of backtracking and soon I was Bayswater bound. Leinster Gardens sums up the phrase 'former glory.' Beautiful Georgian buildings either converted into some sleazy stay over for foreign gentleman, or worse still, left to decay and become the focus for amateur photographers with a fascination in peeling paint.
People watching was an option and I would have loved to have gone into Lomo mode once again ('exciting news' to follow later on the Lomo front...) Sadly I was short on time and possible escape routes should a Lomo subject in waiting express a desire to punch my lights out.
I've got a proper portrait photo session booked in for Friday, and so I'll get to stick my wide-angled wonder in all the wrong places where it really shouldn't be pointed.
Now then - local knobber Councillor shouty shouty time...
technorati: leinster gardens
| #permalink |
Ayup, M'Duck
They've come a long way, baby; it's a mighty long way down rock 'n roll from TOTP to drawing the dole. Except DPW never made it to TOTP and are probably signing on at Leicester Central as I speak.
Nice boys though.
Blimey - back in the day and it was all A3 photocopied flyers for The Charlotte (happy days...)
Faster than you can say 'information super highway' and the City of Death's finest have gone all modern interweb on us.
We're talking EPK's, embedded myspace multimedia bollocks and 'I still blame the bigwigs at Radio 1 back in '89 on our lack of mainstream breakthrough, not that we're bitter, mind...'
And so the first new DPW album since the seventh re-release and ever so slightly re-mastered version of the Shakespeare Alabama masterpiece is almost upon us. I've not been so excited since Mark Crossley was last featured on Match of the Day.
It's an East Midlands thing, m'duck.
And so here we have an 'embedded web teaser' bollocks in all it's glory. Can't wait for the June release date, me. I may even have to take the day off work, download the audio delights and then declare it the BEST album since Crazyhead went all country 'n western on the City of Death masses.
And bugger me backwards with a banana Big John - doesn't this DVD look bloody good?
The DPW story has been retold many a times before. I can't be arsed to go over the ups (were there ever any?) and downs (descents steeper than taking your sledge down Hoe Hill) of MY band. Waste five minutes over HERE if you are playing catch up.
There's the added twist this time round that there's even more angst to be added to my love / hate relatonship with the City of Death.
Just don't go there.
No, really - JUST DON'T FUCKING GO THERE.
But I might have to sometime over the next few months with the worldwide tour to celebrate the, ahem, global release of Blood and Grace. The world tours kicks off in the City of Death and then continues in the car park at The Musician as Big J and Rick have a jazz cigarette and re-tell tales of of a Johhny Walker session sometime around early '91.
Every Picture Tells a Story, and I reckon I've been to five of the six locations for the photo shoots below. My stories surely can't be as great as the DPW legend, but then not a lot really is to be honest.
ONE! TWO! THREE! LET'S RAWWWWWKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!
God Bless the old boys; Still on the old rock 'n roll (rhyming slang) and still the BEST band in the world - EVER!
Anyone want to make me an offer for a set list from the Corporate Waltz tour at the Oliver Twist, Colchester, '93?
'Don't think twice you've just begun'
The road is tough but the road is long,
Your hour come, baby then it's gone.'
Good Times.
technorati: diesel park west
| Tuesday 27 March, 2007 |
They've come a long way, baby; it's a mighty long way down rock 'n roll from TOTP to drawing the dole. Except DPW never made it to TOTP and are probably signing on at Leicester Central as I speak.
Nice boys though.
Blimey - back in the day and it was all A3 photocopied flyers for The Charlotte (happy days...)
Faster than you can say 'information super highway' and the City of Death's finest have gone all modern interweb on us.
We're talking EPK's, embedded myspace multimedia bollocks and 'I still blame the bigwigs at Radio 1 back in '89 on our lack of mainstream breakthrough, not that we're bitter, mind...'
And so the first new DPW album since the seventh re-release and ever so slightly re-mastered version of the Shakespeare Alabama masterpiece is almost upon us. I've not been so excited since Mark Crossley was last featured on Match of the Day.
It's an East Midlands thing, m'duck.
And so here we have an 'embedded web teaser' bollocks in all it's glory. Can't wait for the June release date, me. I may even have to take the day off work, download the audio delights and then declare it the BEST album since Crazyhead went all country 'n western on the City of Death masses.
And bugger me backwards with a banana Big John - doesn't this DVD look bloody good?
The DPW story has been retold many a times before. I can't be arsed to go over the ups (were there ever any?) and downs (descents steeper than taking your sledge down Hoe Hill) of MY band. Waste five minutes over HERE if you are playing catch up.
There's the added twist this time round that there's even more angst to be added to my love / hate relatonship with the City of Death.
Just don't go there.
No, really - JUST DON'T FUCKING GO THERE.
But I might have to sometime over the next few months with the worldwide tour to celebrate the, ahem, global release of Blood and Grace. The world tours kicks off in the City of Death and then continues in the car park at The Musician as Big J and Rick have a jazz cigarette and re-tell tales of of a Johhny Walker session sometime around early '91.
Every Picture Tells a Story, and I reckon I've been to five of the six locations for the photo shoots below. My stories surely can't be as great as the DPW legend, but then not a lot really is to be honest.
ONE! TWO! THREE! LET'S RAWWWWWKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!
God Bless the old boys; Still on the old rock 'n roll (rhyming slang) and still the BEST band in the world - EVER!
Anyone want to make me an offer for a set list from the Corporate Waltz tour at the Oliver Twist, Colchester, '93?
'Don't think twice you've just begun'
The road is tough but the road is long,
Your hour come, baby then it's gone.'
Good Times.
technorati: diesel park west
| #permalink |
'Aint Greener
The best thing you can say about Clerkenwell Green is that it is in Clerkenwell. Not that the North London location acquires you extra bonus points. It wasn't very green (more putrid piss yellow,) but at least it was in EC1.
And so a Saturday afternoon cycle up to North London for the latest shoot with The Way We See It. I tried out a new North / South route, cutting through (not up) The Elephant, over at Blackfriars and then due north for Nathan Barley knobbier land. It worked out quite well for a car free Saturday morning. Not so sure I'd trust The Elephant during the rush hour choke-a-thon.
I was also experimenting with cameras. For 'experimentation,' read making it up as I go along. I've reached a conclusion of sorts. It's hardly a dpreview ten page appraisal, but the seven inch super zoom is good at, um, zooming; the v good v3 handles detail well.
The EC1 detail didn't involved village greens with cycling maidens and warm pints of ale. A pisshead lay face down outside a poncey design agency, the pewk from a few hours earlier starting to form a crust around his chin. A stray dog hovered, not sure if to lick up the carrot and gravy goatee or not.
I failed to find the White Elephant stall, but I did tread in some dog shit (new cycling shoes, natch.)
Still, a Green is a Green and London is all the better for having quirky place names that confuse tourists and naive South London cyclists / photographers / bloggers.
Next week: Stoke Newington Mews.
technorati: clerkenwell green
| Monday 26 March, 2007 |
The best thing you can say about Clerkenwell Green is that it is in Clerkenwell. Not that the North London location acquires you extra bonus points. It wasn't very green (more putrid piss yellow,) but at least it was in EC1.
And so a Saturday afternoon cycle up to North London for the latest shoot with The Way We See It. I tried out a new North / South route, cutting through (not up) The Elephant, over at Blackfriars and then due north for Nathan Barley knobbier land. It worked out quite well for a car free Saturday morning. Not so sure I'd trust The Elephant during the rush hour choke-a-thon.
I was also experimenting with cameras. For 'experimentation,' read making it up as I go along. I've reached a conclusion of sorts. It's hardly a dpreview ten page appraisal, but the seven inch super zoom is good at, um, zooming; the v good v3 handles detail well.
The EC1 detail didn't involved village greens with cycling maidens and warm pints of ale. A pisshead lay face down outside a poncey design agency, the pewk from a few hours earlier starting to form a crust around his chin. A stray dog hovered, not sure if to lick up the carrot and gravy goatee or not.
I failed to find the White Elephant stall, but I did tread in some dog shit (new cycling shoes, natch.)
Still, a Green is a Green and London is all the better for having quirky place names that confuse tourists and naive South London cyclists / photographers / bloggers.
Next week: Stoke Newington Mews.
technorati: clerkenwell green
| #permalink |
Crap Match Report
Dulwich Hamlet 0 Maidstone 0, 24/03/07
Stone the crows - table topping MaidSTONE came to Champion Hill on Saturday afternoon bringing a bumper crowd from deepest Kent along with them. Anything over a baker's dozen is officially considered 'bumper' around these parts. If there's enough room left for me to wheel my bike in through the main gate then it's just a glorified gathering.
The boys and girls from Maidstone were most welcome in SE22. Shame about their 'pineapple on his head' chant aimed at Dulwich debutant Damien Scannell. But then if you were living in a crappy Kent town then you would be about ten years behind the times as well.
Not behind the times, but definitely behind the play were the hapless referee and his Chelsea loving assistant running the line. There's not a lot for a lino to do all afternoon; you run up the line, and then with all the predictability of a Dulwich end of season slump, you run down the line again.
I could tell the lino didn't know much about the laws of the game - his Chelsea tattoo was a dead giveaway.
Causing a bit of a commotion for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum was the far corner flag. It was as dead as a crappy Kent town, lying flat in the mud (the flag, not the crappy Kent town.) Oh the woes of a non-league official. The flaccid flag was debated more than the Chancellor's budget. And just like the wafflings of last Wednesday, a man with ambitions for the top job had even less charisma than a floored wooden pole.
Being a 'bumper' top of the table clash, the BBC paid a visit to Champion Hill to broadcast to the masses. Well, the masses of a crappy Kent town, anyway. Sitting behind me with a fury BBC radio mic that looked more like a comic relief red nose was Mr Local Radio Man.
'HELLO MUM!!!!' went down about as well as the pineapple heckling. Still, it was nice to listen to a pro commentating on the pink 'n blue boys. I actually managed to put a few names to some faces for the first time.
We were even treated to the exciting news that 'Ireland have taken the lead against Wales!' This meant little to many in South London, and I'd wager even less to the Maidstone massive listening back home. That's public service broadcasting for you.
The Champion Hill Press Suite (oh yes!) had more notebooks being scribbled into than platform 13 at Crewe station. It all got a little competitive to be honest. The Gentleman of the Press peered over to see what I was scribbling:
'Milk, bread, birthday card for Mum,' probably won't make the back pages of the Maidstone Gazette.
On the pitch and Dulwich were doing alright. A great first half (no, really...) ended, um, 0-0 as a Maidstone midfielder stripped off to show his six pack as he left the pitch.
I opened up my flask of tea.
If you were in any doubt that this was a bumper day down at Dulwich then the half time turning on of the sprinklers to compete with the car wash in the car park confirmed this. It wasn't so much to do with irrigation, more like the irritation of the boys who kept on booting a ball onto the pitch.
The soundtrack to all of this was some cutting edge stop and start South London nu offshoot of the grime genre. Ear bleeding bleeps, random aural assaults and not much melody to be heard. Whoops - it's just the Voice of Champion Hill having a few problems with his half time CD's again.
Much of the same in the second half, and then with eleven minutes remaining, the hapless lino left to have a lie down. The fourth official made an appearance for the first time at Champion Hill, and you could soon see why he was even lower down in the food chain than the hapless flag flyer.
And so a scoreless draw on a dark South London Saturday afternoon. Could be worse; you could live in crappy Kent town.
technorati: dulwich hamlet
| Sunday 25 March, 2007 |
Dulwich Hamlet 0 Maidstone 0, 24/03/07
Stone the crows - table topping MaidSTONE came to Champion Hill on Saturday afternoon bringing a bumper crowd from deepest Kent along with them. Anything over a baker's dozen is officially considered 'bumper' around these parts. If there's enough room left for me to wheel my bike in through the main gate then it's just a glorified gathering.
Milk, bread, card for Mum |
Not behind the times, but definitely behind the play were the hapless referee and his Chelsea loving assistant running the line. There's not a lot for a lino to do all afternoon; you run up the line, and then with all the predictability of a Dulwich end of season slump, you run down the line again.
I could tell the lino didn't know much about the laws of the game - his Chelsea tattoo was a dead giveaway.
Causing a bit of a commotion for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum was the far corner flag. It was as dead as a crappy Kent town, lying flat in the mud (the flag, not the crappy Kent town.) Oh the woes of a non-league official. The flaccid flag was debated more than the Chancellor's budget. And just like the wafflings of last Wednesday, a man with ambitions for the top job had even less charisma than a floored wooden pole.
Being a 'bumper' top of the table clash, the BBC paid a visit to Champion Hill to broadcast to the masses. Well, the masses of a crappy Kent town, anyway. Sitting behind me with a fury BBC radio mic that looked more like a comic relief red nose was Mr Local Radio Man.
'HELLO MUM!!!!' went down about as well as the pineapple heckling. Still, it was nice to listen to a pro commentating on the pink 'n blue boys. I actually managed to put a few names to some faces for the first time.
We were even treated to the exciting news that 'Ireland have taken the lead against Wales!' This meant little to many in South London, and I'd wager even less to the Maidstone massive listening back home. That's public service broadcasting for you.
The Champion Hill Press Suite (oh yes!) had more notebooks being scribbled into than platform 13 at Crewe station. It all got a little competitive to be honest. The Gentleman of the Press peered over to see what I was scribbling:
'Milk, bread, birthday card for Mum,' probably won't make the back pages of the Maidstone Gazette.
On the pitch and Dulwich were doing alright. A great first half (no, really...) ended, um, 0-0 as a Maidstone midfielder stripped off to show his six pack as he left the pitch.
I opened up my flask of tea.
If you were in any doubt that this was a bumper day down at Dulwich then the half time turning on of the sprinklers to compete with the car wash in the car park confirmed this. It wasn't so much to do with irrigation, more like the irritation of the boys who kept on booting a ball onto the pitch.
The soundtrack to all of this was some cutting edge stop and start South London nu offshoot of the grime genre. Ear bleeding bleeps, random aural assaults and not much melody to be heard. Whoops - it's just the Voice of Champion Hill having a few problems with his half time CD's again.
Much of the same in the second half, and then with eleven minutes remaining, the hapless lino left to have a lie down. The fourth official made an appearance for the first time at Champion Hill, and you could soon see why he was even lower down in the food chain than the hapless flag flyer.
And so a scoreless draw on a dark South London Saturday afternoon. Could be worse; you could live in crappy Kent town.
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technorati: dulwich hamlet
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