Chart Music: the Top Of The Pops Podcast - #71 (Pt 1): 19.3.81 – Shaky Of The Dorm

Episode Date: June 21, 2023

Neil Kulkarni, Taylor Parkes and Al Needham prepare the stage for a late-Eighventies episode of The Pops – but first, it’s a flick through that week’s NME, Rod Hull and Emu pay tribute to Rolls-Royce, Neil speaks of his brush with the local Masonic Lodge (and fails to win the Tombola), Al shares not one but two embarrassing stories about teenage lust gone awry, and a BIG ANNOUNCEMENT…Video Playlist | Subscribe | Facebook | Twitter | The Chart Music Wiki | PatreonGet your tickets for Chart Music at the London Podcast Festival HERE Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This will certainly have an adult theme and might well contain strong scenes of sex or violence, which could be quite graphic. It may also contain some very explicit language, which will frequently mean sexual swear words. What do you like to listen to? Um... Chart music. Chart music. Hey, all you pop-craze youngsters. Welcome to the latest episode of Chart Music,

the podcast that gets its hands right down the back of the settee on a random episode of Top of the Pops. I'm your host, Al Needham, and the shoulders I stand upon today belong to Neil Kulkarni and Taylor Parks. Yeah, hello. Don't you think we should suit these up a bit? We deserve more professional introductions. soup these up a bit we deserve more more professional introductions you say uh taylor parks author of 2001 an inventor of the communication satellite now in retreat in sri lanka he ponders the riddles of this and other worlds harmful to aquatic life with long-lasting effects no let's carry on doing what we normally do and we should have catchphrases i i might go with nice to see you to see you cunt it's a good one and at the end one of us should say and it's good night from me and then the other one should say and it's good night from that cunt

and then we both say good night q starfield are you going on chat GPT for your biog or something? Because I was outraged that mine says I'm from Wolverhampton, man. Really? Mine says that I wrote for Sounds, Melody Maker and The Enemy and Vice. Fuck that. Mine says I prefer looking at paintings from behind. I don't know where they got that from. Anyway, boys, put your hands on my belly

and i'll say do you want to fill me with all the pop and interesting things that have occurred of late i've been doing a bit of work i've been working with rudy from ar cane oh yeah sleeve notes for their latest box set fuck me it's been fun but a arcane were ad copywriters you know i mean so preparing copy for them was somewhat nerve-wracking i've been um decorating my house trying to control my cat i'm having a nice burn up every night though in my newly swept chimney oh god i've turned into such a fire wanker about that or conflagration cunt but um anyway far away from such middle class bougie concerns i've also spent possibly the strangest night i have in many a year oh really yeah a night that i'm not sure i can talk about with full candor because i don't want to wake up

with my tongue buried on a beach somewhere i went to a masonic ladies' night. Oh, yes, you did, yes. It was a bizarre and odd glimpse of how the elites live. Right. With a tombola thrown in as well. Did you win? No, it was fucking fixed, wasn't it? No, of course it was. There was bank coppers in the room. I mean, as you can imagine, it was very like a call-in-the-gang ladies' night.

I mean, it wasn't a night special everywhere from New York to Hollywood. This was in Warwick, a town that I've never got along with. Not just because of Warwick Uni planting its ugly ugly snobbish presence in carpentry but also like most medieval towns it's kind of wonky and wrong and not fit for purpose oh yes and the bathroom in my hotel was so misshapen and small i had to sit with my legs at 10 a.m just to have a decent dump oh no i should perhaps explain how i ended up at a masonic ladies night um but obviously i'm gonna have to protect names so that i can continue on sharp music podcast and as a teacher with my vocal cords still effective so my dear friend name redacted his partner to a chap called

name redacted this fella he happens to have been a grand worshipful master of the local masons for the past year, as it combines his love of dressing up and ridiculous ceremony and charity work. That sounds a bit familiar. Does he go for really long walks as well? No, he doesn't. No, he doesn't. He doesn't jingle jingle. You know, my dear friend as partner to Grand Worship Former Master

is therefore lady name redacted for that year. And commensurate with that role is her responsibility to put together a ladies' night in which, you know, money's raid and speeches are made. Get a stripper on. Yeah, and gavels are banged. She invited me and a few cov mates along as moral support and as a sort of general buttress against the sheer

weirdness of the evening I mean we were of course all determined at some point to stumble down corridors we shouldn't have you know and chance upon the summoning of Osmodeus or something but truth be told as soon as we stepped into the Masonic Hall

we were whisked upstairs and we were straight into this kind of bizarre devil rides out style furnishings soon as we stepped into the masonic hall we were whisked upstairs and we were straight into this kind of bizarre devil rides out style furnishings in this room there was a magnificent checkerboard black and white rug that carpeted the room and we patiently waited for it to turn into a walling vortex that would tumble us into a netherworld of arcana cultism it didn't oh instead a nice chap called bill who like all the masons there was identifiable by his bow tie and evening dress got us some champagne and we looked at the bizarre aprons and symbols and thrones not daring really to ask what any of it meant um yeah it was

weird and then it was downstairs for a three-course meal and the speeches which was all kind of normal apart from a couple of the serving wenches no they weren't actually oh it was ladies night wasn't it it was ladies night were there any kind of like waiters from a couple of things. Were there serving wenches? No, there weren't, actually. Oh, it was ladies' night, wasn't it? It was ladies' night. Were there any kind of like waiters in aprons, and then you turn around and you could see their bare arse? No. Oh, this sounds crap. Although we did leave early, maybe that's how the night went.

I don't know. We were on top table, man. It was great. Fucking hell. And we noticed when we sat down that the table had a massive gavel on it. Right. Kind of the heft and weight of a hefty sofa leg, but sort of shaped like a dunce's cap.

And we started to notice, as the ceremony started, that the grand worshipful master was able to bang this on the table with this kind of shocking loudness and reverberance. And then every other table would answer with their own gavel. Right. It's like a dub-style effect, really. We should unhinge things more there was speeches there was this raffle which was a total fucking stitch up what was the top price

one a child's heart i think it was one of those horrible days where you go away and drive a fast car or something yeah it was a fix that that raffle it had that real west midland serious crime squad feel in terms of corruption but basically i mean the entire room looked populated with bent coppers i was one of only about two non-white people in the room right but um my suit cravat and spats meant that i passed for civilized the most bizarre moment though we had to toast the king and also sing the national anthem oh for fuck's sake i know i did it as well craven and pathetic as i am as a republican minded person i should have kept my mouth shut but you know this is the power of

these things and and the night ended with me sort of boogieing to luther van dross and i requested the call in the gang song of course but it was very telling for me the next day that we me and my girlfriend we had a little stroll around warwick castle my girlfriend asked the grand worshipful master who we were giving a lift back to carve you know about the castle and he was full of kind of oh well you know we do a barbecue every year you should come and we do a tour that's how they fucking get you in it yes i think it would be my last masonic encounter because um looking around that room i just thought you know if i put myself about right here i may well not only be able to speed through 50 mile per hour zones on the motorway i could also probably get embroiled in warwick's biggest swinging scene oh yes a very strange night a brush with the masons which i'm hoping will never happen again did you win the day driving the fast

car no i didn't i was gonna say i was gonna ask you if it's got a sunroof for the antlers to poke out the sun no it was a total fix man you know because the the masons they were identifiable because they were all in sort of evening trash you know like black bow tie and all of that yeah and they were the only fuckers going up and winning any prizes whereas us outlanders well yeah we were just sort of cold-shouldered in that regard. But an insight that I don't want to repeat, because I suspect that room upstairs with the thrones and the compasses and all of that, that's where the real sick shit goes on that they don't put on when outsiders are in the building. Taylor!

Well, I can't compete with that. I've just been cooking my coronation quiche. Lovely. Broad beans and tarragon makes you feel so proud to be british doesn't it truly a quiche to put the great back into great scott that looks disgusting anyway i paid a servant to make mine i was too busy working on my blaxploitation film about one of the old ladies from Fawlty Towers working title. They call me Miss Tibbs. And I know it's irresponsible putting a joke that obscure this close to the top of the show,

but it's all I can manage this month. I sound old because I've been feeling old at this point. It's only the fact that I'm not two years of my age in defiance of the pandemic that's keeping me under 50 can you believe it i've reached that age where you're supposed to relax a bit slow down and enjoy the fruits of your labor uh which in my case are three crab apples and a lime and i'm not expecting to get rich poking holes in things, even though a lot of people who do it far less well are millionaires. And I appreciate that there are those many, many chart music listeners

who allow me to sleep with their wives or girlfriends in front of them out of sheer admiration and gratitude. Tears in their eyes. They say, sir, I don't mind that she's gonna go with you while i watch because it means i get to meet you which is heartening but apart from that what do i get just this sense that it's all my own fault so bear with me it's like being an actor who's also a dwarf in 1970 like you sat there waiting for your phone to ring and like every three years your agent calls and he's like oh yeah good news we found another part for you what oh yes actually it is

playing an eccentric evil millionaire's personal butler how did you guess that but this is how it is now it's like i've been showing my dog at crufts and in the obedience round it leapt up and bit the judge's throat out you know it's not going to be oh well maybe next year right i've set my expectations now but i've been keeping busy i was out oh good the other week watching a live on stage interview with some of the old composers from kpm the library music oh yeah one of whom was John Cameron, and one of whom was Alan Parker. That is to say, the co-composer of and guitarist on the piece of music the Pop Crazy Youngsters were hearing just a moment ago, Brother by CCS.

Lovely to be in the same room as them. Although, I didn't mention anything about this podcast in case they wanted money. Yes, what a play-tale, thank fog. What else? Oh, it was my birthday last month oh or this month as it used to be called i can't keep up with this changing times no major cause for celebration except that i didn't die which is something i'm quite paranoid about dying on my own birthday because aside from making me something of a party pooper as though there were any party it would render me utterly predictable in death because it means that every single person who

looked at my gravestone would say exactly the same thing apart from good riddance or he could afford a gravestone then yeah you and shakespeare taylor that's what i'd say oh and also i've been listening to this great podcast called chart music really it's really long but you don't have to listen to it all in one go i love the grange hill bit in the last episode and i'm grateful that you put in that completely true story about me in the mid-90s encountering the just say no era grange hill cast in the green room of the word where they were indeed running around looking very animated and singing to each other just say yes it's all accurate but i should add this detail the most tragic bit was melissa wilkes melissa Melissa Grom Pricks-Wilts, a.k.a. Jackie, Zamo's girlfriend.

That's pathetic, Zamo. First of all, she'd played no part in that Just Say Yes horseplay, just as she'd seemingly played no part in the Just Say No record. But I saw her standing at the exit door of Teddington Lock Studios as the audience were filing out saying thank you thanks for coming to every single person as they went out as though it was her show fucking hell i remember feeling a bit of a chill how polite yeah but she wasn't even 30 at the time and looking at that it was horrible she was like a psychologically broken relic.

You know, it's like, well, that's that. Two defining moments, upstage by Zamo and his clockwork orange eye makeup to show that he's on heroin. And upstage by Dickie Davis saying cocksucker instead of cupsocker by mistake. And that's it, right? And that sheepdog that slid down the hill because it had worms while that bloke was singing oh yeah yes there you go hope you had fun melissa you're out the door stand aside please here comes lucinda rhodes flyerty to take your place it's terrible melissa

wilkes doesn't even have a wikipedia page no. Not even one as depressing as that of the genuinely likable Lee MacDonald, a.k.a. Junkie Kid Zamo, whose Wikipedia page lists his profession as actor, locksmith. Yes. Although, speaking of Grange Hill, you know the tube station, Grange Hill? Yeah. It's out on a loop on the far eastern end of the central line right essex borders middle of nowhere and it's nothing to do with the tv show it's not set there it's just a coincidence but how fucking inescapably

tedious that connection must be if you actually lived there yeah and i was sat on the tube of the day looking at it thinking imagine if you were the station master of grange hill underground station you'd feel like you had no choice but to take over the tannoy system and instead of the spoken announcements insist on just playing chicken man by alan hawkshaw the one true gr jill theme over and over on a loop all day and night endlessly at deafening volume so that passengers just wouldn't be able to escape it whatever they did or just lob sausages on forks at people as they come out yeah i'll replace the ticket barriers with big sausages on forks yeah yeah hire a 15-old with a quiff to hang around the station, bullying people, stealing their fare money.

And you could have Mr. Bronson going, You, boy, mind the gap! Yeah, but the important thing would be the music, blasting out 24 hours a day, making everyone smile. Yeah. So even just people passing through the station couldn't hear themselves think because of the sound of it until eventually the top brass would call you in for dressing down and

the bloke says look this has to stop we've had thousands of complaints from commuters several hundred of them from a locksmith's down the road just please stop playing that music over and over again all day but you'd have to stand firm and say no i'm sorry this is just the way it has to be until eventually they'd say right that's it we warned you you are no longer the station master of grange hill station you're being moved to baker street hope it goes well, I have something that's very pop and extremely interesting. So mark this down right now in your pop craze diary. Saturday, September the 16th, 2023. King's Place, King's Cross, London.

Chart music comes alive and returns to the london podcast festival fucking yes same venue hall one the big one little bit later in the day at all past four but don't you worry there'll be plenty of time to link up with us and the pop craze universe afterwards i.e get fucking k lied and i can exclusively reveal right now that the lineup will be me taylor parks and neil called carney oh yes pop craze youngsters teammate tv land in the ass if you will yeah yeah there's none of that you know face for radio hiding no more is is there, man? I'm going to have to rouge up. Fuck it, it'll be the first time I've ever met you in person, Neil.

No, it's mad, isn't it, Al? That is mental. Ridiculous, man. It's like a long-distance relationship is finally going to be consummated in front of hopefully 600 people. Indeed. After years and years of Neil asking you to forward some money so that he could come and see you.

Now, as these words are coming out of my mouth, I don't know how much it's going to be, but I can reveal that the Pop Craze Patreons are going to be hit off with a 20% discount. So if you're not one of those people yet, maybe now is the time to get some tips in this g string right here oh they're fucking good aren't they taylor these uh these live shows yeah we we were treated very kindly yes we were yeah wait till you see the green room they have at king's

place and they'll fucking out all the best crisps oh man yeah get out you're not supposed to say this in front of the listeners but yeah it's a great opportunity for you the listener to commune with your fellow pop craze youngsters and it's a great opportunity for me to get shot of a load of fucking bummer dog t-shirts that have been clogging up my back room for the past year do you think it would be profitable to try and sell a T-shirt that didn't feature a silhouette image of a dog buggering a small child? Yeah. I know.

2022 wasn't ready for that T-shirt. No. I think 2023 is more than ready for the bummer dog T-shirt. Let's talk about the really important people at the moment, and those people are the brand-new batch of Pop Craze Patreons. And in the $5 section this week, we have Gordon Kennedy, Thomas Dowding, Neil Major, Saps, Paul Whitelaw, peeps robin gold matthew kendrick pie museum foul play ash preston matthew reitz paul thorpe matt d lee kyle opec dreams brian oblivion lee cremin sean moran and Wendy Bort comes in. Oh, thank you, babies.

And in the $3 section, we have Philip Bedford, Chris Dowding, Brendan Parsons, and Roderick Lewis. God, we fucking fancy the arse off you. Oh, and Martin Reilly, you nudged it up, didn't you, you naughty boy? Thank you so much. And as well as keeping chart music alive and getting the latest episodes in full without any advert ramble,

days before anyone else, the Pop Craze Patreons get to tinker and a tanker and a fiddle and a whiddle and a diddle with the all-new Chart Music Top Ten. Are you ready for it, boys? Yes. Hit the fucking music! We've lost sex under Artex and the two Ronnies clash,

which means three up, two down, two non-movers, one new entry and one re-entry. Last week's number three dropped seven places to number ten. Noel Edmonds' wank fantasy. Up one place from number ten to number nine. Jeff Sacks. It's another one place jump to number eight, but here comes Jizzum. Re-entry at number seven for my fucking car.

And last week's number four drops two places to number six, Eric Smorgshaw of Eccles. Yes. Into the top five and no change at five for the bent cunts who aren't fucking real. Last week's number six, this week's number four, Bummer Dog. Into the top three and it's a two-place drop

for the Birmingham Piss Troll. This week's a two-place drop for the Birmingham Piss Troll. This week's number two. No change for the provisional O-R-O-R-A, which means... Griffin's number one. This week's highest new entry and the brand new chart music number one. Ghost Face Scylla.

Oh, what a chart, boys. Fucking hell. The Pop Craze youngsters, they don't like stasis, man. They like change. Yeah, it's exciting. They live for kicks. So, yeah, Ghostface Scylla. I don't even want to talk about what that sounds like.

I just had it in my head while I've been lying in bed for the past fortnight. Fucking hell, man. But a couple of pop craze youngsters have alerted me chaps to a possible Eric Smallshore sighting. Have you heard about this? All my days, really. A karaoke singer in an episode of Cracker Doom when the Saints go marching in. Someone pointed out that the way the singer phrases the word number is extremely similar to Eric. But, yeah, you don't think so, Taylor.

No, Eric's influence spread far and wide, right? It's a bit like saying, I heard a band, this singer, he's singing just like Mick Jagger. Was it The Rolling Stones? No, no, no, no, no. He's 100% not him. Oh, well, never mind. So, if you want to get in on all this thrilling excitement,

you know what you do, Pop Craze Youngsters. You take them fingers over to the keyboard. You tap out patreon.com slash chart music and you pledge and you pledge and you pledge if you can. It's a sound investment, I would say. So, this episode, Pop Craze Youngsters, takes us all the way back to March the 19th, 1981. Nothing particularly special or landmark about this episode, but I can tell you right now

that a lot of the old friends we've made along the way during our Chomp Music Odyssey will be swinging by. But also, hey, we've got a the way during our Chomp Music Odyssey will be swinging by, but also, hey, we've got a few surprises in store. Just put your head round the door. Also, chaps, we're a good nine months into the reign

of Michael Earl by now, so this is an excellent opportunity for an examination, an ultrasound, if you will, of the difficult pregnancy of the yellow hurl era because the reformations have not kicked in yet have they oh god yeah i mean it does feel this episode for me still quite 70s yeah yeah there are some old familiars here but there's also some new enemies for us as well but truth be told that i mean looking at the charts they still don't really feel entirely

colonized by by new pop music there's still a lot of dinosaurs there and in terms of this episode it's certainly sort of old pop and older pop people who are kind of winning in a way top of the pops could never entirely commit to new music in a way you know a show like the tube could later but i don't think hurl has yet realized that new bands are more exciting yeah in a sort of classic top the pops way than their older competitors so consequently i found this episode lurches between sort of variety and pop probably in a way that would have angered me at the time it's clear here that while the 80s are gagging to kick on in certain places the 70s aren't quite ready to let go, are they?

No, absolutely not. They're clinging on with their scaly tendrils. Yeah, there's really a lot of old lags on this episode. On top of the pots from 1981, my God. Yeah. Deep in the booming heart of either the finest or at least the second finest half decade ever for the British charts, you know, full of young spunk and piss.

And basically half the acts on this episode are over 30 and have been recording since the 60s or early 70s. But it's quite interesting because unlike in the later 80s when all these older guys, like, all souped up with the modern aor sound were a fucking plague on the charts and essentially all the same uh what you got here is a bunch of oldens creeping out from under the blankets now that punk is over looking around and trying to work out how to respond to the new decade and so it's different in every case, right? It might mean horrifying self-consciousness

or a new lease of life, or in one case here, hang on, didn't I invent half of this? Well, I don't do that shit anymore. And we get examples of all of these tonight. Do you know what I mean? It's not like 1986 with Steve Winwood delivering another soulful pop ballad or elton john returning with a new album described as his finest work since too low for zero you know

it's a business as usual in 1981 these old fuckers have got a dilemma because they still feel like they have to justify their existence within pop. And most of them seem to be addressing it with varying degrees of success. So even when the music isn't brilliant or even bearable, it's worth discussing. Yeah, and the highs are quite high, but the lows are really low on this episode. Low as crocodile piss. I mean, it is a reminder that golden ages are quite often beheaded with straight up golden showers and and some of the older acts here fuck me i mean there's no other word but shameful for some of what we're

gonna talk about yeah i mean it's always the same isn't it it's always easy to fall into that sort of bbc4 bullshit that hey everything was changing culturally but i watched an episode of summertime special the other night the bbc saturday night variety spectacular from august 1981 still a flagship light entertainment program and it's indistinguishable from 1971 and in a lot of ways from 1951 um and anyway you can tell it's not is that the title sequence features members of the a team not the real a team oh my shame this perma smiling song and dance troupe of pleasant face nothings in cheap nylon t-shirts with their names printed on the front and ice skater trousers, right, who come on regularly to pad out this grim 45 minutes until you're longing for the young generation to hobble in

on their Zimmer frames and headbutt them in the bollocks. But anyway, at the start, you see all the members of the A-team larking around in an overcast and freezing Brighton seafront. I mean, the very first shot of this programme is the word summertime special superimposed over a helicopter shot of a marina in the pissing rain. And then you see them all leaping about in their T-shirts, pretending not to be cold on the beach um giving a kid a donkey ride uh buying candy floss purchasing a lobster from a seafood shop uh stroking a police all those things you do on holiday right and the only way that you can tell that you're even looking at a time that's within our lifespan is when one of the girls picks up a giant novelty lollipop,

which says, kiss me quick from a revolving lollipop stand and pretends to lick it without first taking the plastic off. And you can see the other two lollipops on the stand. And one of them says, Charles Diana Royal wedding. And the other one says, I like pussy with a picture of a cat

i guess nobody knew what it meant mrs slocum would and so this program is hosted by rod hull and emu right of course a bully and his fig leaf and features guests uh such as shaking stevens um Irish easy-listening vocal trio The Bachelors, as hot and sexy as the frozen peas which share their name, the Birmingham-born easy-listening... And as mushy as the peas that go intense. Yeah, they're dressed in a hundred shades of brown, that most complex of colours.

The Birmingham-born, easy-listening chanteuse, Maggie Moon, who's got a... Oh, don't bring Maggie Moon's name up in front of me, Taylor. I go all red. So she turns up, she's got a hair-sprayed-up cloud of copper-coloured hair, a slinky ankle length black lace dress slit to the thigh

and far too much pink lipstick she looks like she's at her gangster husband's funeral but unbelievably she was in her twenties I've got a break in there Taylor before you can carry on, a couple of years hence from this episode of

Summertime Special, Maggie Moon was the guest singer on Name That Tune you can carry on um a couple of years hence from this episode of summertime special maggie moon was the guest singer on name that tune and i was sitting there watching it with my mom and my dad and she came on wearing what sounds like the same outfit that you've just described there i remember my mom just tutting and just says oh i bet she hasn't got any knickers on. And I was absolutely overcome with lust and had to go upstairs and do something about it. So there we go. That is my second most embarrassing masturbatory story. Anyway, she's one of the guests on Summertime Special

along with Irish all-girl, easy-list easy listening vocal trio sheba of whom more later believe it or not um and the uh whip cracking arabian nights themed acrobatics act kazbek and zari who are very impressive at what they do but it's a bit like the boring bit at a fetish club where everyone has to stand still and watch an act. And throughout the show, over and over again, the A-team, the A-team, I see the A-team. Yeah, they had to appear on Summertime Special for the crime they didn't commit. Until the grand finale of this programme, which has a huge studio audience right there in the place is a 10 minute item on film featuring song and dance production numbers shot in the Rolls Royce factory

in Goodwood introduced by Rod Hull and his fake bird as a place where we can still be proud of the slogan British made summertime special salutes rolls royce and it's literally just these grinning inadequates leaping about in a fucking gray factory full of exhaust pipes and yeah all dressed in pink and baby blue to a medley of easy listening versions of appropriate tunes like Grease Lightning, Pick Up the Pieces, Interrupting Production, a time when the British motor industry really needed to pull its finger out, All in the Cut with close-ups of people in brown stores coats and overalls soldering things and fitting washers in that pale grey light.

Saturday Evening, Prime Time. things and fitting washers in that pale gray light saturday evening prime time um and then at the end they pile into finished rolls royces to the sound of the 18 singing silver lady obviously and they drive out through the factory gates triumphantly of course and that's the end you think and there's about a minute of shots of the studio audience in rapturous applause. But then they cut back to Rod Hull and he says, before we leave Rolls-Royce, let's have a look at what more than a million pounds worth of motorcars looks like. Cue another minute of film showing 18 brand new Rolls-Roycesces clearly not actually being driven by members of the a team who i guess couldn't be trusted rolling into a field and assembling themselves into a giant double r which is then filmed from a helicopter it's a fucking advert it's a prime

time bbc advert for a product way out of the price range of anybody in the studio audience. Or, indeed, watching this lower-class bilge at home, right? A super high-end product whose image can surely only be tarnished by association with Rod Hull and the A-teams. And the whole thing stinks, right? This was shortly after Rolls- rolls royce was sold to the engineering and aviation group vickers and while i can't pinpoint any particular significance there i'll bet you any money that's significant somehow some fucking spear fall in a wood paneled office sitting behind a huge phone and a massive glass ashtray calling in a favor but the reason i bring this up is that a

number of things i just mentioned will recur later so more of this when the time comes but also just to mention the strange pickled feeling of that program which was absolutely in the mainstream of 1981 but feels decades older like something which should have been swept away by the luftwaffe you know what i mean like i'm punk yeah and there it is front and center saturday night prime time a harrowing watch alas no footage of the after show party when maggie moon drank two bottles of martini and punched a police horse in the face. But this is bad enough. And this was the main reality of 1981, right?

I'm here to tell you young people, it was. It's like a rule with yours, right? You know, if you go on a dating app and someone's got five pictures up, the worst one will be the best likeness of what that person looks like in real life well it's the same the worst pop cultural artifacts from a particular time are usually the best representation of the reality of being alive at that time as a working or lower middle class english person yeah and this is how i remember 1981 despite since then the gradual creep of this idea that hey even your dad looked like a member of visage right no 1981 was more like 1971 than it was like 1991 which is why

the stuff that we now think looks so 1981 looked fucking crazy at the time because it's down to where you where you are at that time a lot of the people on these bbc4 documentaries talking about the early 80s weren't in places like we were actually watching shit like this but maggie moon i'd completely forgotten about that real brummy sultriness up there with lisa dominique and um you know connie anyway seeing as you asked um my most embarrassing masturbation story happened in early 1983 in my bedroom just before school was about to start while i was watching tv am on my portable now chaps this was the era of ridiculously tight stay pressed trousers and i was paranoid that I'd get a bonk on at school and it got noticed and I'd get absolutely shamed up.

So I was in the habit round about that time of enjoying myself in the gentlemanly manner, you know, to get it out of the way for the day. Get the poison out. Exactly, Taylor. So, you know, I fished me copy of Men Only from under the mattress and proceeded to set about me, Sen. And when I was

at the I Know Corrida stage, I could hear my sister thumping up the stairs, screaming and shouting and carrying on. And I was absolutely terrified she was going to burst into my room. So I got up to throw myself against the door and accidentally ejaculated

over Wincy Willis's face yeah fucking hell so i just want to say if you're out there wincy i am so fucking sorry even now 40 years later and i swear to you it was completely unintentional and you were just collateral damage dog it could have been anyone but it could have been mike morris which doesn't bear thinking about at all so um yeah let's move on did you ever find out if maggie moon was wearing knickers oh god knows i bet emu knew yeah the only way to find out would have been uh i stand neath the magg Moon. Hesitating. Onward!

Radio One News. In the news. Ronnie Biggs has been maced in his home in Rio de Janeiro by three kidnappers who claim to be former members of the SAS, who then stuff him into a canvas bag with four carrier handles, and is currently whereabouts unknown. While the media speculates that it is a publicity stunt for his forthcoming autobiography, it turns out to be a legitimate attempt to abduct him to a place where he could be extradited to Britain. In three days' time, a yacht containing Biggs goes out of control off the coast of Barbados

and all four men are rescued. And Barbados tells Britain to fuck off when they request an extradition and he's returned to Brazil. You lucky bastard. The Social Democratic Party estimates that they will have 14 MPs when they officially start next Thursday. All Labour MPs who have resigned and defected to the

SDP. They would end the year with 27 former Labour MPs and a Tory. Sir Peter Heyman, the former British diplomat and intelligence officer who was revealed in Parliament last week as the unnamed member of the paedophile information exchange who had left a packet of child grot on a bus but was let off by the police has been found in a hotel in Normandy with his wife trying to keep the fuck out of it. Residents in his home village of Chequendam, Oxfordshire, have been doorstopped by the papers, and they're remarkably okay with it all. Who are we to judge him, says a woman in the street. We'll decide for ourselves when the fuss has blown over. Different times. Two workers at NASA are killed when they accidentally walk into an area containing pure nitrogen,

while the Soviet Union announced that they've successfully tested a killer satellite that shot the fuck out of another satellite over Eastern Europe. The Bank of England have put out their first £50 note since the war. They've got Christopher Wren on the back. Liverpool and Ipswich cruise into the semi-finals of the European and UEFA Cups after beating CSKA Sofia and Senteti in respective layer but West Ham get knocked out by Dynamo Tbilisi and Newport County are dispatched by Coles Agena in the UEFA Cup

but the big news this week is in the Sunday Mirror headline, banned! Sickest group in pop. A top punk rock group have been banned from college concerts because of their vile stage antics. The chart-busting group who call themselves Splodgeness Abound use the severed heads of pigs and oxen in their act. It sounds sick. And that's what many people feel after seeing them perform. After a recent concert at Thames Polytechnic in London,

cleaners were horrified to find the group had left behind the rotting remains of their gruesome stage props. Now college officials have banned further concerts, and even the students themselves are so disgusted they have advised other colleges not to book the group. But 23-year-old Max Blodge, leader of the group that shot up the charts with a record called Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps is unrepentant.

I'm not surprised the cleaners found the heads, he bragged. They probably smelt them before they could see them. They were a bit maggoty when we left them. Then Max spoke in loving detail about the group's ideas of entertainment. Our showstopper used to be oral sex, but we've cut that out because we no longer have a girl in the group, he said. Now we buy pigs and oxen heads from the market and use them in sexual movements or as ventriloquist dummies. Then we throw them into the crowd. It's just a bit of a giggle.

Know what I mean? If you don't find that very funny, there's always what Max calls the group's bingo interval. One of the group lies on the floor and spits pig's eyes out of his mouth like the numbered balls in bingo. It's sort of Kelly's eye, with a difference. Student union president Simon Hubbard said it was seconding. We hope we have seen and heard the last of this group.

Alas, not quite. When Moronic Max heard of the ban, he retaliated in typical style by sending the college two more heads through the post. Oh, shocking behaviour. Disgraceful. I mean, everyone's just going to be waiting around, aren't they, for two pints of lager and a packet of crisps, please. So they've got to do something.

I think people would be more offended nowadays if they did two little boys again. I don't understand why they didn't just let the music do the talking. On the cover of Melody Maker this week, Pauline Black of The Selector. On the cover of Smash Hits, Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark. On the cover of Record Mirror, Francis Rossi of Quo in a very tight bomber jacket and tie, leaning against a wall with a fag on. Oh, they're still relevant.

The number one LP in the UK at the moment, Kings of the Wild Frontier by Adam and the Ants. Over in America, the number one single is 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton. And the number one LP is High Infidelity by REO Speedwagon, which, of course, was the number one LP in America for 15 weeks on non-consecutive occasions, broken up for three weeks by something a bit more punchy and vibrant, Paradise Theatre by Styx. Oh, America. So, me boys, what were we doing in March of 1981?

Well, I would have been eight, a year into wearing glasses. I'm adjusted to that. Second year at junior school. I mean, the only thing I genuinely remember about this time is that I was entering into a key moment for any young person, I think, my first fountain pen oh get you i'd long looked longingly at the massive array of quinks oh yeah in um midland educational coventry's one-stop shop for all your stationary needs but now i was finally given the

chance to actually write with a fountain pen load load up cartridges in that shotgun way, and, of course, become acquainted with the taste of ink. I've never used a fountain pen, ever. They're great. What's the fucking point, man? We've got ball points in this century, Neil. Yeah, I know, but you can do italics and stuff. You can get all calligraphical, or whatever the word is. I mean, I wouldn't feel as grown up

until I got my Texas Instruments graphic calculator, so this is a big, big moment for me. No, man, I was happy with me parka, nicked out smith in vicky center well it was mod wasn't it you know the arrow oh yeah cool jutting out of your pocket man taylor i think i went to butlins on holiday in 1981 which one yeah minehead yeah we're one of the last families to go to butlins when it was still butlins i think as opposed to a cultural abattoir, which it became as early as the mid-'80s, really. Then we went to Minard. It was fucking brilliant.

Me and my dad went on the monorail, and my mum wouldn't go on it. Like, she thought it was going to come off the rails and crash through the glass-windowed wall of the princess ballroom like some kind of working-class disaster movie. Either that or she'd heard the word from Ogdenville and New Haverbrook. And Skagness. Yeah, and she wasn't entirely foolish, as it was indeed closed in the 1990s after an accident

during which six people received whiplash injuries. Oh, that Buckling's monorail. I think one shunted another one up the back. Oh, fair dues. The year before, I went to Skegness, Buckling's, fell in the boating lake in my brand new jam t-shirt. But yeah, we went on the monorail, but we were really disappointed

because when we got off, we realised we were still in Buckling's. I thought it was going to take me all the way to the pier in skegge right no miles away yeah no i was just happy sitting in a slow moving fiberglass shell 20 feet off the ground looking down on crazy golf courses and those tiny roller coasters for five-year-olds you know it was It was a heavy chariot. 1981 was a really grim year for me. It's one of my least favourite years, along with 1996 and 1975. My granny, who was the Rolling Stones fan,

who was convinced that all the Beatles were homosexuals, she died a few weeks previously. And my grandpa was about to have a heart operation that could kill him, but it didn't, thank fuck. And three members of the family are going to be made unemployed in the space of a month. Mum from her job at a Mike Barlow-like children's clothing factory, dad from his removal van firm,

and me from the programme shop, which absolutely fucking broke my heart. So, yeah, not good times at all. I'm still basking in the joy of having my own dog, Hot Rex, but by this point, my sister's nicked him off me, and she and her mate have started dressing him up in baby clothes and putting him in a pram on his back and pushing him up and down the estate

in an attempt to get the fishwives of the area tutting at two 11-year-old girls getting in the family way. And I'm not happy about that all it's most undignified no it's the sort of thing that will become an yeah yeah yeah well i put a stop to that very quickly because my sister had a like a swimming costume and i put that on the dog let him run out um my sister's chasing him down the street and then he just squats down and has a massive piss all over her clothes. So, yeah, that got nipped right in the bud straight away.

If those fishwives thought it was bad enough that two 11-year-old girls had got pregnant, wait till they looked in the pram. Music-wise, well, obviously, I'm still an absolute weller sheep and I've been boring the fucking arse off everyone at school going on about how only the jam could get into the charts with a German import single. That's entertainment, which is still at number 36 in the charts

and would have been number one if Polydor had released it properly, let me tell you, possibly. But, you know, also looking around me and disgust at my peers not being mods or rude boys anymore. Things are changing and I'm refusing to keep up with the rapid turnover of pop and as a matter of fact there was a poem in the letters page of a recent smash hits by disillusioned x mod that absolutely chimed with my state of mind at the time and if you don't mind chaps I'd like to read it right now. Yeah.

We rose like lions to the sound of secret affair, yet we died... Fuck off, you're making this up. If you don't mind. Sorry. We rose like lions to the sound of secret affair, yet we died like sheep to the next fashion. Heroes we were in our two-toned tonic suits. Corner of the street we waited with our hair nice and neat.

Along they came our little modettes proud and all they were yet as mods the big heroes gave it all up so please somebody tell me mod what was it for it's plaintive that that, isn't it?

Gets you right in the solar plexus. Is he suggesting that mod means nothing unless everyone involved wore exactly the same clothes for the next 40 years? Because, you know, to be fair... Because, yeah, pop is turning over rapidly at the moment isn't it yeah that's the best thing about it however bleak and unappealing the early 80s seem in retrospect and seemed at the time because they fucking did my god for a kid like it's this isn't just an impression you get looking

back it was like it at the time it was you were in a world of wet concrete shopping centers the the same color as the sky you know and saturday nights trying to stay awake if you weren't at home watching summertime special you were there eyes streaming under a blanket of indoor fag smoke in the pub or all in the works club waiting for the old bloke selling the young soldier to come around. The evening's biggest highlight. So let's not think too fondly and imagine that stuff was too good. But however grim it got, this was also a time when a small child would hear pop groups sing about

being crushed by the wheels of industry and just take that on board yeah it's like okay these people have been crushed by the wheels of industry that's a shame but it meant that access was provided to that wider world of language and thought yes and you saw these intriguing shapes in the distance and became familiar with the idea of artistic courage from an early age and you develop these high expectations of low culture but it was always doomed because eventually things will follow the path of least resistance and ultimately if you're aiming your work at teenagers and trying to make money sooner or later you realize there's no room for this stuff

and you're better off sticking with the things teenagers are most likely to respond to competitive consumerism and over emotional self-obsession and these aren't new things these are the dark secrets behind every positive teenage craze but you know they're just exploited more unapologetically as time goes on yeah it's not like i'm saying i don't like pop music now you know i like pink panther s as much as anybody in beats by dray headphones and silver trainers you know probably because it sounds like music from 20 years ago the last time i was paying attention it's just gloomy looking at so much mainstream pop now and getting that feeling off it, you know, that feeling of competitive consumerism split along class lines.

So many pop stars now being either a whoop whoop hands in the air celebration of young white Tory privilege or a statement of intent to defeat and humiliate all you other bitches. Because for most unlucky people nowadays society means combat and it's accurate and it's a fair reflection of the times you can't complain about that i just don't enjoy it i don't enjoy songs boasting about having money or unlike all you shit people with no money you know or this kind of vague indul, unreflective glumness as a kind of privileged lifestyle choice. You know, ooh, I'm in my feels, as Ian Curtis once said, you know. And nobody singing about being crushed by the wheels of industry or... Well, no industry anymore.

Yeah, being crushed by the non-wheels of post-industrial society. Crushed by the van of Amazon. But it wasn't at a distance, that's the thing. I mean, even as an eight-year-old, you know, you're basically talking about a year 81, where, you know, Ghost Town has been a number one. You know, it's been in the charts. This stuff is close.

It's not like, even as an eight-year-old, you'll have to start fucking reading The Enemy. Yeah, yeah. This stuff is in the charts. Right. So that's really, really important. Oh, yeah. I would so much rather have been 16 in 1981 than 1988,

which is when I was, except that I'd be six years older now, which would possibly kill me. Well, chaps, I do believe that this is the moment that we retreat if you will to the chart music crap room riffle through the boxes and pull out an issue of this week's music press and this time we're going for the nme march the 21st 1981 would you care to come with me on this journey? On the cover, a big rising sun over the NME logo, a full-page image of Tokyo at night,

and a lady of the ethnicity that gets Tony Blackburn all excited. It could only be an examination of the Japanese music scene with a tasteful headline, Jap Payback, a nip into the 21st century. In the news, the main story this week is that shooting has started on the BBC's new fantasy thriller Artemis 81, starring none other than Sting. He'll be playing Heleth, a Danish angel of love who has resolved to overthrow the forces of evil After the theft of the statue of Magog

And the resultant disruption of cosmic forces By the powers of evil Obviously there's only one location suitable for such a tableau The Kreidtram Museum Was he there with a pal called Ian? Sting arrived in a thin white vest and white tuxedo jacket and looked decidedly unappe, posing for pictures in a battered old troop carrier,

says the NME. When asked why the fuck the BBC would want him in this and does he reckon he's an actor now, Sting said, The production people said they wanted me because i'm a godlike figure i decided not to do the bond film because it's too camp i'd like to create a new stereotype where the entertainer can sing play music and act it hasn't been done very successfully or meow toyah i've done a certain amount of role playing in my life

not acting yet it's an ocean i've dipped my toe in and until i'm swimming i'm not calling myself an actor hang on sting when you bummed paul cook in the back of that car in the great rock and roll swindle that was acting wasn't it wasn't it? Wasn't it? The Who were back with their new LP, Face Dancers, and they'd put on a lunchtime party to celebrate, and the music press were there to cram as many scotch eggs into their hypocritical

backstabbing moors before going back to the office and coating the album down. Naturally, Pete Townsend was there, despite being spotted at the venue at 4am the night before, along with Paul Simon and Topper Heaton from The Clash, Mike Reid, Annie Nightingale, John Walters and John Peel from Radio 1,

Robert Powell from Jesus of Nazareth, and the 16 artists that The Who have commissioned to paint individual portraits of the band on the lp cover what amazed us about the event was the music provided reports the enemy most of which turned out to be from the likes of spandau bally and steve strange and none at all from the actual album i wonder why that would be cloud as a silver lining. Are Pink Floyd about to split up, or are they getting back on the road? The NME believe they have the answer with the headline, Floyd in June. Despite widespread speculation concerning a possible Pink Floyd split,

the NME understand that they'll be performing in Britain again before long. It was learned this week that they intend to play another season at London's Earl's Court, scene of their triumphant wall shows in 1980. They're expected to play a five-day stint at the 15,000 capacity venue, although it's not yet known if they will retain their wall-building set or come up with a revised act. Rumours that Floyd were about to split followed in the wake of the announcement last month of the collapse of their investment company Norton Warburg.

The band are said to have lost more than £1 million in the downfall, which came about after the company had invested in money in two disastrous films, a horse racing stable and other unusual projects. Sources close to the band suggested that they were on the verge of splitting but they evidently decided to remain together and recoup some of their losses. The NME turned out to be bang on the money with a set of thez all being hoiked up one more time. Oh, God. Well, one bit of good news.

What with Roger Waters being such an important, pioneering, inexhaustibly creative artist. That'll be the last we ever see of the fucking wall live on stage, thankfully. With the headline, it's a mad, mad, mad, mad, madness world. We're informed that madnessness started work this week on their first full-length feature film, Take It or Leave It, which covers the period from 1976 to 1979 and documents the band's career from their first steps as musicians through their early gigs and towards their emergence into the big time.

It's being shot entirely on location in camden town in islington directed by stiff records chief dave robinson the film comes out in october have you ever seen that yeah i've still not seen me neither that's shocking isn't it it's all right my mate had it on video oh yeah yeah it's good film is it like as good as the slade film no no no no no because it was directed by stiff records chief dave robinson it's not a cinematic masterpiece but they're surprisingly convincing as themselves younger you know getting beaten up by skinheads and stuff it's all right is it as good as Never Too Young To Rock? Yes. In tour news, On The Road Sooner, The Cure,

White Snake, Stiff Little Fingers, The Stylistics, Rose Royce, Status Quo, The Selector, Adam And The Ants, Bow Wow Wow, Echo And The Bunnymen, Dex's Midnight Runners, Toya, Girl School, Motorhead, Japan, Gang of Four and The Old Sailor.

But it's bad news for British fans of Bruce Springsteen, not just because they don't live in America, but also because his first UK tour since 1975 has been cancelled at the last minute. What with the boss being bad there after playing 72 gigs in North America. Barbara March, Springsteen's manager, tells us that his exhaustion got so bad that he couldn't talk. The British gigs have been rearranged for April and May

and if fans are desperate to see him in action right now, they can make do with seeing him in the No Nukes film which opens in the UK this week and features Springsteen Graham Nash, Jackson Brown, Ralph Nader David Crosby, Stephen Stills, James Taylor

Carly Simon, Bonnie Reart and the Doobie Brothers. Oh welcome to the 80s everyone. I'd rather have nukes. One venue that Springsteen won't be playing this summer is Acklam Hall on the Westway. And just as well, if the news story Acklam Agro is anything to go by. West London's Acklam Hall was pulverised last Wednesday

and seven people in hospital, non-seriously, following a Viking-like invasion by a gang of locals. On the bill were anti-establishment, last resort and info-riot, who were tuning up backstage when the assault force landed. force landed. One eyewitness described the invaders as long-haired West London soccer supporters who mistakenly assumed the hall was packed with alien EastEnders. But the Met have logged it as a punk

versus skinhead gang battle and say that a 16-year-old and a 19-year-old will shortly be charged with possessing offensive weapons. Oh dear. Better times. In comings and goings this week adam and the ants have parted company with bassist kevin mooner the soft boys have split up with robin hitchcock promising to go solo and bow wow wow are being taken away from emi by malcolm

mclaren we've had to cancel the tour because EMI won't support us financially, claims Malk. The problem, as McLaren sees it, is EMI's reluctance to fork out for singer Alabella Lewin's GLC-ordained governess tutor, which has already delayed the tour for a week. When we put it to McLaren that the EMI contretemps maybe had something to do with the band stiffing out on the door,

he replied, nah. We sold out the Rainbow, played a date in Manchester last week without a tutor present, I might add, and that sold out. Good business, mate. Taking a band on the road and that with a governess gets a bit pricey. EMI weren't prepared to cough up general cowardice they felt they were promoting something that they didn't believe in it's not wholly different to what happened when the sex pistols were there they operate at the

level whereby they didn't move with the times move with the times the pro tip malc if you're going to exploit an underage girl in order to present her as a transgressive symbol of anti-social polymorphously perverse granny worrying anarchy make sure you can afford to pay for her governess and tutor before you start yeah over in new york the enemy's correspondent tantalizingly tells us of the rap party at the ritz which brought together the sugar hill gang grandmaster flash sequence spoony g and the up-and-coming funky four plus one the advertised mc popular r&b dj frankie crocker and the ventriloquist act that opened the show didn't go down too well i love that but the wall-to-wall crowd got the message once funky four plus one struck up their big hits rapping and rocking the house oh Oh God, I hope it was Roger DeCoursey and Nucky Bear.

Yes. Nucky B, Taylor, come on. The Sugar Hill Gang headlined the show, their first New York appearance in over a year, with an unwieldy ten-piece band that often obscured their rap and flipped the rhythm.

But the real show shopper turned out to be grandmaster flash a dj whose dexterity with two turntables has to be seen to be believed and his rapping assistants the furious five man do you think rod and emu would have gone down well yes yeah yeah yeah oh he'd have caused some beef though wouldn't he emu oh for a time machine though to go back to that gig bloody hell oh no but ventriloquist He'd have caused some beef, though, wouldn't he, Emu? Oh, for a time machine, though, to go back to that gig. Bloody hell.

Oh, no. But ventriloquist, bad move. I mean, they should have got, I don't know, Octavio the Clown from Scarface. Terminator X was a brilliant ventriloquist, man. He speaks with his hands, don't you know? In killing music and its illegal news, Island Records are raising a lot of industry eyebrows with their determination to introduce the 1 plus 1 cassette series in the US,

where the likes of U2, Ultravox, Kid Creole and the Coconuts, Cat Stevens, Grace Jones and Robert Palmer take up the full side of each tape, giving the purchaser the option to record what they like over one side or both in the case of you two island's u.s partner warner brothers has refused point blank to carry the line so island is currently negotiating with american cassette manufacturers for a possible joint distribution deal lower sound quality why don't they make the tape 18 000 miles long and then you could record everything on it yeah brilliant i wonder if the failure of this influenced you know alternative tentacles dead kennedy's label because because

when they bought cassettes out it did say on one side home taping is killing record industry profits They bought cassettes out. It did say on one side, Home taping is killing record industry profits. We've left this side blank so you can help. And yeah, it must have been an inspiration to them. And underneath the headline, Clapton Ulcer, we learn that the Enoch of Rock has been forced to abandon his 56-date US tour with only nine shows played

after collapsing with a perforated stomach also. Finally some good news. Interviews. In the thrill section this week, Chris Bone talks to Mute Records' newest signings, Depeche Mode, who have just put out their debut single, Dreaming of Me. Due to them being extremely shy lads they brought along their producer Daniel Miller who they referred to as Uncle Daniel When asked about their switch from a more conventional guitar trio

to an all electronic line-up after buying their synths on the Never Never for £25 a month Dave Gahan insists we didn't get into them just for the fashion it just happens that way. Vince Clark, who feels a bit awkward that he's the only member of the band over 20, says it's strange that the kids who went to soul clubs are now moving over to this. Electronic pop is commercially viable now, whereas two years ago it wasn't.

Gavin Martin nips over to what we used to call Holland to witness the first ever gig by The Bureau and finds out why they broke away from Dex's Midnight Runners. Kevin pushed all his ideas to the forefront and they weren't discussed with the band. We grew apart, says Jeff Bly in a chat before the gig. With Dex's we'd made a very big promise and we brought a lot of responsibility on ourselves. We said we were going to be very genuine and we were going to do something to a lot of people.

But it started to be more posturing than anything else. I'd really hate myself if I went on stage and made a total mess of it. And I never did that once with Dexys. So when I was told you can't do that, or you can't do this, I got really cross about it. Undoubtedly, notes Martin, this is a reference to Rowland's decision to ban dope from tours. The interview with Archie Brown and Steve Spooner after the gig goes less well. Pursuing a line of questioning that would lead to the obvious, ah, but wasn't Kevin controlling you line, I got shortchanged from both interviewees,

with Steve saying he wanted to talk about the Bureau, and Archie suspected me of being a hack merchant right away. The conversation continued to unwind lazily for a few minutes until looking down i realized archie had switched off my tape recorder what did you do that for i ask depressing the record button well i think you're fucking about i think you're asking funny questions i'm stoned man i want to go to sleep an actual physical tussle ensued with the vocalist attempting to rest the machine and the cassette from my grasp but eventually following a long discourse on the role and function of the critic the problem is sorted out few incidentally the following evening archer attributing his

reservations and paranoia to the intake of a certain verdant oriental plant intimates that he's knocking the habit on the head and then he said pull the blind i'm closing down the bureau for an hour has that ever happened to you do you record as sacrosanct, isn't it? No fucking touch is that. That's never happened to me. But if that did happen to me, I'd just let the band know I'm going to make it all up then.

You know, I mean, I did anyway. I quite often, to be honest with you, always made them sound more interesting than they were. It'd be like going into an interview with them in the studio and like just going over to the guitars and pick out Smoke on the wall on them you just don't do that shit man that's their tool and that record is your tool yeah nobody ever dared to do that with me but it's funny what a

mess that sound yeah how many long-suffering musicians who escape the bullying and hectoring of their cruel genius master finally stumble free into the bright spring air and immediately fall to pieces. In her At Home With The Stars special, Nick Kent sits down with Phil Collins in his country home just outside of Guildford to talk about recent collaborations with John Martin, his new solo album Face Value

and the runaway success of its lead-off single In The Air Tonight. Peter Gabriel banned all cymbals from all Genesis sessions but I played an active role in gaining that drum sound. Ahmed Ertegun actually assisted in the mixing of Air, persuading me to place the drum break in exactly that place. It's a particular talent that he has, plus the fact that he's the guy who worked with Aretha Franklin and Otis Redding and therefore knows what it's about. And he was right.

He got an immense amount of radio play from the very outset, which was ultimately the vital factor in his chart success. It tends to sound very strong on car radio, particularly when the drums break in. Mike Rutherford said that he likes it a lot, while Tony has, well, I've not felt any animosity. They seem pleased. Oh, that's nice.

Adrian Thrills has a sit-down with Jim kerr and charlie birchall of simple minds and they immediately bring up his review from a year ago in which he dismissed the band as pretentious we've used images in our songs so we do run a giant risk of being labeled as pretentious being glasgow boys and singing about Europe and things like that. What do they want us to sing about? Football? Life in the Gorbals? Hang on, hang on. The Gorbals is in Europe? Yes. What's the problem?

After that's out of the way, they start having a go at Midyore. That whole European thing has been used very wrongly just recently by people like Ultrabox in Vienna. has been used very wrongly just recently by people like Ultrabox in Vienna. It just looks really tacky, using the names of foreign people to impress people, said the singer of Belfast Child. Our last LP has got a lot of foreign imagery in it, but everything there did actually come from meeting and talking to people in Europe and drawing from that experience.

People should define what they mean by realism before they start accusing us of pretension. I think we must be the first generation that hasn't seen either the draft or a war. We haven't seen guns and uniforms, but when you do see it, even through a van window in Central Europe, how can it not affect you? Hang on, they're the first generation

not to have been drafted or seen a war yeah born in 1945 yeah i mean the fact that the previous generation hadn't been in a war or done national service was often cited as a major reason for why the 60s turned out as it did you must have missed that but also like can he not count fucking idiot have you ever had an interview where you've been pulled up for things you've said about bands and that yeah yeah go on well occasionally they used to send you to interview people that you'd already slagged off to have an argument with them. They don't do that anymore, I'm telling you. No. God, no.

But it was good fun, yeah. They smashed. Do you remember that group, Smash? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I remember that piece, Taylor. Yeah. I was a kid when I did that. I don't imagine it would read very well now.

But it was good fun. You just go there and just argue with someone. And, yeah, they were quite nice about it as well. Fair play, though. There's still time for all of this to happen. Somebody out there commissioned me to interview Rick Witter or something. Yeah, turn up with a clothes peg on your nose. Under the headline, A Touch of Yen,

the middle four pages are given over to Max Bell's jaunt to Japan to find out what's happening with the pot-crazed whack-a-mono. He tells us that while your stereotypical Japanese businessman likes either Enka, traditional over-sentimental Nippon music that sounds like a theme tune to the water margin, or the cabaret acts who supported the Beatles on their Japanese tours, such as the Blue Comets, the Tigers, or the Spiders, the kids are into technipop they play it in privacy on the walkman or out on the streets on their big portables like the sharp black dudes in america while japan and

talking heads are big gauging bands at the moment along with queen kiss cheap trick and rainbow they're like the fucking brummies of the Orient, aren't they? The homegrown faves of the moment are Ekichi Izawa, their Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry rolled into one, along with Yellow Magic Orchestra, Southern All-Stars and an abominable pop group called Juicy Fruits. A local rockabilly band called The Channels would be even bigger than they already are if three of them hadn't been caught molesting 15-year-old girls.

And warns us about Roosters, a biker band supported by Tokyo's Chapter of the Hell's Angels, who tend to be well-versed in martial arts and like to kill policemen now and then. It was said to me many times inapan that domestic groups were aware of their culture but realized the need to communicate in a common tongue english writes bell the greatest compliment i can pay the japanese music scene even after the most cursory visit is that i wish i could speak japanese oh what a fucking jolly that was. Oh, too right, yeah. No mention of Anika, though, for shame. Hey, lads,

I just read Max's Japan piece. I think I've thought of the perfect headline. Single reviews. In the chair this week is Paul Morley, who insists on using the word consume in all his sub-eds. His single of the

week is Tell Me Easter's on Friday by The Associates. The Associates are perfectionists. This is the closest pop comes to the elusive dream of perfection. This is another sublime single in the year of the single. A simmering, sharply cut pattern. A stream of seduction. Music of dignity and destiny. A great amount of respect is at play here. Return it. Add a kiss. Don't miss. Meanwhile, Spandau Ballet have put out a double A-side,

but Morley doesn't bother with the side the radio's playing, muscle band and zeros in on glow, which he likes. It shrivels the dry journeys to glory LP under its heat. It's such a vivid, vaulting chunk of growth, such a bursting tumble through the underground, such a dose of undaunted exertion. Of course the cover's daft, just like the LP, more comic than fascist. In fact, until I wrecked Glow, I'd have said Spandau were fat shit more than fascist. Now the only thing that's fat around here is the base. Go, don't miss out. Consume, schools out forever, gasps Morley as

he gorges upon work by Bow Wow Wow. Sensationalist, irresponsible, distracting and fantastic. The moralists can steal themselves. The art matter realists can steal this. The art matter realists can steal this. But it's a coat down for Eye of the Lens by Comsat Angels. The worst support act Susie and the Banshees ever had. I can't understand any dedication to the square Comsat Angels. Eye of the Lens is crushingly unimposing. The other three songs on this starchy showcase are tame, tediously fair-minded examples of a lukewarm new pop versatility.

Scotland continue to hurl new bands over Hadrian's Wall and the latest are Aztec Camera, who have put out their debut single Just Like Gold and Morley reckons they're fucking braw. It's listlessly lovely with a strange incomplete strength. These love songs that speak of sadness with undefiled integrity seem closer to the white music of Nick Drake and some John Martin than the lament dance music of Josie Kay

or the irony pop of Postcard, The Sound of Young Scotland. Private themes and fairy tales, new romance and chilled distance. Aztec camera or a smooth and special taste, a smile on their face, a tear in their eye, between Vic Goddard and Cliff Richard. Young Marble Giants have released the Test Card EP, six instrumentals in praise and celebration of mid-morning television, and is praised by Morley for affectionately capturing the ageing formality of schools programmes,

the unspoilt correctness of the links in between, the colourless compulsion and pale peace of the TV at that time, a very sane sane confidently superficial souvenir englishness you can trust god it's like i'm having phone sex with david stubbs reading out this reviews page the thing is though i mean you get the feel with morley's i love morley's writing and you get the feeling with it that he sent this through right and no editor fucked with it or if they did it was probably just little chops here and there the weird thing about doing the singles pages whereas like with review i always found with a lot of reviews album reviews i could kind

of get away with most stuff um because it went to the reviews ed with singles pages it usually went through to the features ed which was a different kettle of fish. So whenever I sent singles reviews through, I'd always get this call, because, you know, you'd be an all-nighter, and you'd get the call at nine in the morning of like, Neil, this just won't do. You had to change loads. What did you have to change, Neil?

Your opinion on the records, or just cut the poncy shit out? Just, yeah, the kind of, you know, I mean, I was just a big chris roberts paul morley head if you like and i tried to do some of the stylistic things that morley's doing with his writing you know you try and put a bit of that in yeah and it'd always just get knocked back in my experience anyway but has it got a beat to it can you tap a toe to it neil that's what the kids want to know the thing is if pricey was saying i mean pricey was reviewed editor if i send through an english singles page for him he would have just you know checked if it's what the kids want to know. The thing is, if Pricey was saying, I mean, Pricey was a reviews editor, if I'd have sent through an English singles page for him, he would have just, you know, checked if it's under word count and run with it.

Oh, bless him. Because for some reason, the singles were seen as a feature, and consequently you've got a different editorial head looking at it, and they just, you know, they wanted rid of that kind of writing by the time I joined. So, yeah. But the singles page is a fucking huge deal of a magazine, isn't it? Yeah. It's usually one of the

first things i turn to yeah in theory i mean by this point nobody gave a shit what we said anyway so you could just publish anything it wouldn't make any difference i got it though i got rung up at nine in the morning once like what you because i'd done a singles page and sound garden had made a comeback and it was just dreary i just did a review and just wrote shite garden more like you know some childish thing like that and it's like this is one of the biggest bands in the world you can't say that so so i had to rewrite it and as i recall the rewritten one said it rocks like a bed with someone fucking a corpse on it um i think they probably would rather stuck with the original but there you go yeah i mean it's the thing about morley even though we're sometimes it might seem a little bit much and that

did happen from time to time you always get a little a little shard of brilliance in everyone like he says the associates put out tell me easters on friday as a single and it's mostly just a load of alliteration and you know funny words but also he says there's a great deal of respect at play here which is like a key thing the associates put out tell me easters on friday they're showing you respect by doing that. Show some respect back to them. It's brilliant. Yeah.

I mean, Morley can be flash, but there's heart. And I know that sounds corny, but there is. And you think he's on the side of the listener. And I think that's really important. Yeah. Joseph K's Sorry For Laughing sounds real wild and with a great colour cartoon cover is product to want. Fad Gadgets Make Room suggests that

Depeche Mode will be the first Mute Boys to hit the hit parade, but Fad might be the first Mutant to make the old grey whistle test. And Orange Juice's Poor Old Soul is no pips, no peel, no growl, no snarl, just juice. A bit of a fucking week for singles isn't it just sadly despite all this proto new pop goodness being available the mug masses are still queuing up waiting for their thick moths to be filled with the sugary pap they mistakenly crave and Morley plows through them.

Rationally speaking, I would detect that bad manners are running out of life, he says, in response to just a feeling. A Fool Like You by Yachts is dismissed as manger and Don't Panic by Liquid Gold, Shame by Race Air, One to One by Joe Jackson and St. Sand by B.A. Cunterson are all bunched together. All the better to take the critical shotgun too. Look, I know I go on, writes Morley, but the pop music of altered images, scars, associates, orange juice, cure, a certain ratio, etc. should be in the hip parade selling thousands and dislodging pop culture shapes every month in every way. Their music is relentless, consumed by energy and produced to be lapped up by the masses not culted into corners. The pop that generally charts with obnoxious ease, like this mixed bag,

is wearer, though shrewd and studious. All those groups like Altered Images and Fire Engines want to force life, action and new style into the hip parade, the mobile militant charge that pop music should be. Look at what a fuss Adam's caused. That's because new pop consumers are essentially starved and cut off from new pop commotion. Liquid Gold, Racer, Joe Jackson, B.A. Cunterson. What a state. He'd be pleased to know that none of those songs got in the charts. And he signs off with Nigel Dixon's Thunderbird on stiff records. And he signs off with Nigel Dixon's Thunderbird on stiff records.

Nigel Dixon, ex-Whirlwind, on the limp label with a sad plop of Neopop crushed under the weight of this week's singles. Anyone feel sad? And that's the way it is this week. Ooh, nice Walter Cronkite reference. Well played, Mr Morley. In the album section section the main review this week is given over to He Who Dares Wins the debut LP by Theatre of Eight and Phil McNeill is

not convinced that this time next year the band will be millionaires last year a heroic gamble the Iranian embassy siege thrusts theas into history and the hearts of the great british public it is less likely that theater of hate's heroic gamble will be similarly successful toh's gamble involves releasing as their debut lp a £2.50 cassette recorded live show under the banner beat the bootleggers bootleg quite why theater of hate should want to beat the bootleggers thousands of whom are of course to be found jostling for space at every theater of hate gig is a mystery more to the point does the immediacy of this leeds warehouse set convey the passion of this inspiredly committed group? Or will the dull sound quality and warts aplenty

prove to be a lead and albatross about the career of the most exciting new group in the country? Strip down, live, the rhythm emphasis often sounds horribly drab. Countered by Brandon's histrionics, they sometimes veer dangerously close to the clumsy starkness of such early 70s progressive rock drones as Van de Graaff Generator. One NME writer assures me theatre of hate can't be any good because a friend of his knew Kirk Brandon at school and he was a right prat. I can believe it. Brandon's the spunkiest, most self-important singer to emerge

since the equally exciting, equally self-obsessed Kevin Rowland. Like Rowland, he tries to sing things he really shouldn't. Unlike Rowland, he doesn't always bring it off. The Who are back with their first new LP in three years, Face Dancers, but Gavin Martin's review cuts like a knife. rock's Babylonian hierarchy, who seemed concerned about his mythical detachment from the listener, the lies he was living, and the life he was lying about. But five years later, with the release of Face Dancers, my respect has been totally demolished, he writes, before decrying the album's directionless lyrics and bubbling squeak like musical mashing up and rehashing for Pete's sake how much longer are we going to have to endure your irrelevant

fantasies concludes Martin clearly trying to make a name for himself Motown are capitalising on the recent success of Diana Ross's collaboration with Chic and her forthcoming pissing off to RCA by putting out To Love Again, a compilation of remixes, movie soundtrack recordings and

offcuts from the Diana LP. But Derota Cock doesn't reckon it in the slightest. It's bound to be forgotten before the last wine dies away. This LP is Diana Ross's contribution to late night slush and a sure indication that she would benefit from any change that contract shifting might bring The BEF, Ian Marsh and Martin Ware's Human League Heaven 17 Perineum have released their instrumental LPp music for stowaways stowaway being the original name for the sony walkman and it makes chris bone want to strap on some roller boots and careen around a shopping center in milton keynes the first purpose-built cassette for portable recorders from the enterprising British Electric Foundation is one of the few unselfconscious ambient electropop products yet made.

It's a wonderful new accessory to daily living, one that should be used on buses or trains, in the supermarket or at the laundrette as an accompaniment to household chores for anything as long as you're not standing still. Unlike Eno, they recognise that ambient music for most people means tinny transistor radios, not long vacuous instrumentals. Thus theirs is a synthesis of pop from Adam Ant and Gary Glitter to Kraftwerk and OMD, with the bonus that the 35 minutes of this cassette are far more consistent

than the equivalent of any radio show. At £2 more than Bow Wow Wow's Your Cassette Pet, it comes pretty expensive. But if you're one of the lucky elite, like me, who can afford such luxuries as portable machines, then you're

hardly likely to quibble. Oh, look at him all cool with his big orange discs of foam over his ears. Yes! There's a lot of tape stuff, isn't there? Yes. And here, yeah. In the gig guide, well, David could have seen the Bell Stars at

Dingwalls, the Grateful Dead at the Rainbow, Tom Waits pulling a three-night stint at the Victoria Apollo, the Buddy Rich Orchestra's week long stand at Ronnie Scott's Gene Pitney at Lewisham Concert Hall, Sugar Minot and David Rodigan at Hammersmith

Palais and whammed up the week enjoying the Bush Tetras at Dingwalls or altered images at the 100 Club but probably didn't Taylor could have got his brothel creepers on for stray cats at Birmingham Odeon, seen Rose Royce at the Odeon the night after that,

and then followed it up with Steel Ice Span again at the Odeon before getting double-denimed up for status quo's two nights at the NEC. A triple-denimed out. Let's not forget the waistcoat. Of course, yeah. Yeah. Hat tip to the very great Francis Ween,

who reminded me of this for our social media a couple of weeks ago. The serious quo look was a denim three-piece suit and ting. Oh! As I said at the time, I'm sure that if they'd been able to find some denim shoes, we might just have witnessed the quadruple. No pop, no style. They're strictly rock.

Yeah, probably not in diamond socks. No. Sarah could have seen altered images at Leeds Fan Club, the teardrop explodes at Sheffield Unair, the selector at Sheff Poly the following night, and finished her week at Doncaster Rotters, checking out Classics Nouveau and Theatre of Hate.

Beat the bootlegger, Sarah. Al could have basically set up camp in Rock City for the week and had a go at pig's eye bingo with Splodge Nessa Bands on Thursday, Wasted Youth on Friday, The Selector on Saturday, Fuck All on Sunday and monday but come back hard

for a night with rose royce on tuesday neil could have seen gino washington at warwick uni victorian parents and human cabbages at coventry's general wolf and fuck all else and simon could have seen psychoo Hamster at Cardiff South Glamorgan Institute, bombed it over the bridge to see Bow Wow Wow at Bristol Locarno and checked out Elvis Costello and the attractions at Cardiff Top Rank. Oh, what a time to be alive.

In the letters page, Paul Denism, presumably Paul Denoyer using a demi-sudenim, the reasons for which now are lost to the sands of time, is running gasbag this week. And the main topic of conversation is the announcement that the remaining members of Joy Division have returned as New Order and are already in the charts with their debut single, Ceremony, currently at number 34. All I know is that a man died, a man who alone with four other musicians laid down three killer singles and two classic albums, which personally left me devastated and which I suspect had a similar effect on a great many people, writes Philip Lansdale from Knutsford, Cheshire. Then tragically the man, a manic depressive,

bid a final farewell. Gone forever, sadly missed, but no. I heard the news today, oh boy. I stood alone in the record shop. I heard a record. That guitar sound. The tingling cymbals. I had to get closer. I knew that sound.

Tears filled my eyes. They were carrying on with a little help from their friends. I paid the man my money and made for the privacy of my own turntable. Oh, joy of joys. The only slab of vinyl worthy of a second listen since that single almost a year ago. And that single, the birdie song by The Tweets.

Naturally, the band's new name has already raised hackles, but Kevin, a correspondent seemingly from nowhere, has already leapt in front of the critical gunfire in slow motion, screaming, No! I interpret the name New Order as meaning joy after despair and suffering, he writes. Oh, that's all right, then. The oppressors overthrown and the people free with fresh hope and an intense happiness.

Bernard Albrecht, Stephen Morris, Gillian and Peter Hook seem to me to be among the least likely people in the universe to have fascist sympathies. Just listen to the music. I feel your concern is ill-founded. Forget, whilst thinking of New Order, the past of Nazi Europe. They're worlds apart. Concentrate on the present. Look to the future.

Gillian's got a surname, you know, mate. Yeah, it's actually an ancient symbol for the sun. Yes. Speaking of which, check out the press ad for Bow Wow Wow's single Work released this week. I don't know if it's in this NME, but it's in that week's Record Mirror, but probably not in Bravo on account of it being against the law in that country. It's a great big ancient symbol for the sun. Probably a witty reference to the title of the song being work do you get it

in other fast chat news the enemy did a feature on the anti-nazi league the other week and the mewling whining letters have piled in whether the anti-nazi league like it or not people have the right to hold and express whatever opinions they choose in a democratic society, even if those views are in themselves undemocratic, says Dubon from Bristol. Do the League subscribe to the view of freedom of speech for everyone except the right? I am sometimes cynical enough to believe that the League is as odious as any political movement which helps to divide society while claiming to unite it. Or am I just another Nazi to be removed, says the Nazi twat.

So the enemy's at it again, pushing politics down our throats with promotional features on the anti-Nazi League. Before all you impressionable mix-up idiots out there go and blow the dust off your old A&L badges circa 1978, consider the following. Why does NME, while posing as a music paper, blandly include articles championing Marxism and Marxist leftist organisations amongst its musical features, thus suggesting that the two are inseparable and therefore we should subscribe to both? Asks non-aligned from Wolverhampton,

who actually spent time writing a letter, putting a stamp on it and posting this shit. If NME really feels that its readers are unable to formulate opinions for themselves without the aid of its propagandising, it might at least do the honourable thing and present both sides of the argument. So go on, NME. Give the National Front the same opportunity to state their case.

Or are you afraid of being investigated by Mr P. Haynes Intelligence, right to the Nazi yim-yam-dip shit. I thought the Nazis already did state their case. Pretty hard to forget, wasn't it? Although it's 1981, punk is not dead, and its exponents are still alive

and moaning like fishwives. Barney Hoskins' write-up of the UK subs-lyceum gig was pathetic declares Pitts of South Norwood apart from being ignorant and moronic I think old Barney must be blind and deaf he writes, for some reason, antipasty did not appear

this is remarkable, considering that everyone else at the Lyceum saw them you couldn't miss them the singer had bright red hair and they made quite a bit of noise. Yeah, which distinguishes them from all the other bands on that line-up, no doubt. Adam and the Ants were in full cry at the moment and are about to undertake a UK tour. But Dominic, of no fixed abode or hometown, reckons it's a swindle. So Adam is charging the kids three to four pounds of no fixed abode or hometown reckons it's a swindle.

So Adam is charging the kids three to four pounds to thank them for their wonderful support, he writes. I hope the kids tell Adam to fuck off. If Sting had Debbie Harry's legs, little girls wouldn't stare at him. If Debbie Harry had Sting's tits, little boys wouldn't stare at her, writes Sarah Wiggins from London. Sexism is about stereotypes, male and female. Watch a few adverts, you'll find not nearly so many stereotype macho men as stereotype pretty women. That's the only

reason more women than men fight sexism they're stereotyped and picked on more often sexism stifles all of us men and women and although you may not have noticed it the male stereotype is swinging from just muscler to muscly and pretty which you may find harder to contend with unless of course you are sting if sting had debbie harry's tits would you look at him wait you mean legs no i'm just throwing that out there i'd always stare at debbie harry but if sting had debbie harry's tits of course i'd stare and they're kind of horrified curiosity and if sting had debbie harry's legs everyone would stare at him until he stowed them somewhere discreet and finally it's a letter from a frequent nme letters page correspondent of the era a non-disillusioned sharon from ormskirk lancashire

i have better things to do than become enraged and upset at the flippant editing of my recent attack on your misplaced right-up slash down on crass, she writes in an open letter to the NME, and Andy Gill in particular. I've since been very busy fantasising violently about chopping your hands off with a slightly blunt hatchet, shoving your poisoned pens up your bottom, thus poking holes into your brain, mopping up my baby's diarrhoea accidents with the NME, plastering it to the wall and bombarding it with rotten eggs, rather than go and beat someone up.

I sleep soundly with proof that you are very silly. May your ego burst, Andy Gill. I sincerely hope that you drown in your own vile goo. You'd also be as well to have a communal shit on blank paper. I don't think you're stupid. You seem quite intelligent, actually. But it's your warps, kinks and perversions that worry me. This correspondence is now closed, as are your eyes and ears oh sharon fancies and

sharon fancies and uh 58 pages 30p i never knew there was so much in it it's not a bad issue is it the enemy i mean no and also good you know they've just not not just got rid but birch was left in 1980, and I think Parsons was left in 79, and it's just a much better paper now. Yeah, yeah. But that last letter, those threats of violence, it was amazing what you could kind of get away with.

I mean, I remember a letter from a guy called Gurpreet, that's all I kind of remember about it, but it was about a corner shop review I did, and it got printed on the letters page, and it basically said, you know, if I'm ever in the Midlands, I'm going to hunt you down and kill you it actually just said that midlands is a big place o'neill yeah true enough it was from leicester but yeah it was just a weird thing that you could just yeah if you wanted to kill somebody back then you could send a death threat into the music

press and it'll get printed so what else was on telly today? Well, BBC One start as they mean to go on by laying down a pile of open university knowledge bombs at 6.40am before closing down for an hour and five minutes. Then the channel leaps back into action with three hours and 20 minutes of schools and colleges ramble before closing down again for two minutes. What's the point of closing down for two minutes, man? Piss break.

Get the potter's wheel on all them goldfish. Then it's regional news in your area, the midday news, Pebble Mill at one, Bod, you and me, and a short shock, shock of schools and colleges again. Claire Rayner drops in on two people who have beaten their addictions to alcohol and tranquilizers in Claire Rayner's casebook.

Then it's another close down, this time for 18 minutes. Then it's Play School, Secret Squirrel, Jack and Ore, Scooby and Scrappy Doo. Fuck that. John Craven's news round, and Sarah Green shows us how to make a card for Mother's Day. After Fred Bassett, it's the evening

news. Regional news in your area, nationwide and then Prenderville, Han, Rod and Ingle show us some paint that can kill flies, onions that won't make you cry and disco lighting for the living room in tomorrow's world all disco

lights neil i was just like i actually shivered when you read that it's weird looking back in it to think these people have to live in a world without paint that could kill flies surely though if you got a fly and stuck it in a tin of paint that wouldn't do much good would it bbc2 goes three the hard way with borehole logging seven card stud air and gurns it in another open university triforce also at 640 and then closes down for three hours and five minutes then it's play school then it's another close down this time for two hours and 35 minutes before they treat us to the final day of the cheltenham festival including the gold cup whatever that is i don't know fuck horse racing i used to work in a book is man it was the most boring job ever non-stop seven fucking

rows of tellies all showing fucking horse racing all day. Does he get fired for stealing a small pencil? Then they close down again for half an hour before springing back with more open universitaire. Then it's King of the Rocket Men, and they're now into the final five minutes of It's a Grand Life, the 1953 film about post-war army life starring Frank Randall, Diana Dawes and the wrestler Dirty Jack Pie. ITV starts at half nine with two and a half hours of schools programmes.

Then it's Gideon, Stepping Stones, The Sullivans, News at One and Regional News in your area. After the Southern TV soap that Taylor likes so much, Together, it's Afternoon Plus, then a repeat of the racing game. The Dick Francis series where a retired jockey with a mangled up hand

forms a private detective agency with a karate expert called Chico, and off they go to investigate some horsey crimes. This week's episode, Horse Nap. How did he get a mangled hand? A horse trod on it.

Oh, I thought he might have been feeding him a sugar lump or something. He forgot to tuck his thumb in his palm. That's followed by a repeat of Leave It To Charlie, the David Roper sitcom about an insurance agent in Lancashire. After Dr Snuggles and Bugs Bunny and friends

were whipped over to Wembley Arena to see Great Britain take on Canada in the USSR in the Hunt Gymnastics International, followed by some good old American gloopiness in Little House on the Prairie. After the news at 5.45, Kevin Banks gives Iris Scott some mithering crossroads. Then it's regional news in your area

and they're 20 minutes into Amos and Mr Wilkes going on holiday in Emmerdale Farm, presumably not booking out an Airbnb for some chem sex, but you know, you never never know i know you don't want to look at it again but there was a open university thing you read out called borehole what was it called hang on um borehole logging okay i misheard you sorry i thought you said borehole loving i don't know why no mate borehole loving was part of the open university's red triangle series well chaps i do believe this table is laid and me in my role as the

mam of chart music is about to stand on the doorstep and bellow at you to get in the house and tuck into this episode atop of the pops So I think that now is the opportune moment to summon the pop-crazed youth of the world to reassemble tomorrow as we begin the slap-up feast of pop that is part two of episode 71 of Chart Music. So until then, thank you very much, Taylor Parks. Cheers. God bless you, Neil Kulkarni.

Can't wait. My name's Al Needham. Stay pop crazed. Chart music.