Free Places To Drink Cans In London Without Feeling Like A Tramp #2: Crystal Palace Festival

Something the British middle class do well is organising free arts festivals which gives them a sense of worth and belonging, or something. For me, they are mainly places to drink cans in the sun and watch some bands I'd never pay money to watch. The bands at these things are usually an eclectic mix of what the organisers probably think are cutting edge and as hip as possible without using swear words, as you know, it's actually really all about the kids.

Crystal Palace festival has been going six years now and is one of the better free festivals you'll find in London. It's a four day event taking place in many pubs and spaces in Crystal Palace, Norwood and Gipsy Hill. Loads of stuff happens over the four days; you get what you expect from a liberal arts festival including comedy events, salsa lessons, a spoken word night, food markets, jazz sessions and a heap of other stuff but the highlight of the festivities is Saturdays main festival site in Westow Park which is where it's possible to drink cans without feeling like a tramp.

Westow Park is a small beautiful park in Norwood which is surrounded by housing estates. I first came across this park whilst I was carrying out the 80 mile Capital Ring walk, it is one of many small parks in London which have been kept despite the ongoing development of every area of the capital, It's always a lovely surprise when you come across them as they seem a little out of place but are much needed for the residents of the area for a place to chill out and as an area to take the kids to play and get fresh air.

The festival site is divided into three main areas; the kids zone, the food court and the main stage zone. There are three bars on the site; one run by The White Hart pub serving real ale, one selling cocktails and one selling mostly cider. The festival site starts at 11am and finishes at 6pm so there is only a limited amount of drinking time so get there early and make the most of it. I arrived at around 12.30pm as I thought I should listen (a little) to my barbers advice that he imparted earlier that morning after he'd cut my hair; "Don't drink too much at that festival thing." Aye, right.

By the time I got to Westow Park the sun was beaming down on the early revellers and though I tried (and managed) to hold myself back from opening a can of beer my eyes kept wandering to the cider tent which was set up by the main stage. I held off for around three and a half minutes but the lure of taking part in the great British tradition of drinking a cold cider in the hot sun whilst watching bands in a field was too much to withstand. I may not have been in a muddy field in Somerset having paid £200 for a ticket and surrounded by smelly people with dreadlocks but this was the next best thing. Actually it was probably better, I could go home to bed when I'd had enough. I ordered a Black Dragon cider and one of the bar man asked "who's drinking Black Dragon at this time?" he then congratulated me on my choice, shook my hand and wished me luck for the day. What the fuck did he mean?

The compere at these type of events are always the same; slightly camp, extravagant, middle aged, middle class white males who think they're the funniest people on the planet, or at least in their particular suburb. I wondered what would happen if you collected all the comperes of these arts festivals around Britain and put them all in a room to talk to each other till there was only one man left standing. I'd think that the room would implode in a fire ball of pretentiousness, self-righteousness and wankiness. I needed another drink so opened a can of Bombardier and poured it into the plastic glass I'd got with the cider; though it is acceptable to drink cans at places like this (and plenty of others were) it's nice to portray yourself as having a sense of decorum so a glass is always a nice touch.

If, like me, you regularly attend free festivals in London you will have noticed two guys who dress in the same clothes (including caps and sunglasses) as each other and dance by the main stage to whatever music is playing. They have choreographed dance moves and are a joy to watch for a few minutes. It's great to see people who don't give a shit what others think about them (as I'm sure most people will be laughing at them) and are just having a bloody good time. That's what festivals and the British summer should be about.

The bands at these places are really an afterthought; it shouldn't matter who's playing, it just matters that people have gone to the effort of organising the event and that bands and artists have shown up to play for free. But I'll give a brief run down of some the acts I saw. Civil Love were a rather crap nondescript indie band but they seemed to enjoy themselves. Offbeat South were pretty cool, rap pop type thing, a bit like N*E*R*D. For some reason throughout the set the singer was wearing a rucksack; the can drinkers transportation device of choice, so though it seemed a little strange to me that he couldn't be bothered taking his bag off his shoulders whilst singing I'll give him extra kudos for representing the drinking class. Breezy Lee was a nice, soulful singer somewhere between Amy Winehouse and Gwen Stefani. The Hornets were an instrumental funk horn led band who were pretty cool. Hallouminati were a gypsy-esque sounding band who weren't gypsies. They have a song called 'You Promised MeMoussaka' which I'm sure most people can relate to. The headliners were Metamono who were a Kraftwerk rip off. Strange choice for a headliner as the crowd had nicely warmed up by that point and then just looked confused and didn't know what to do with themselves.

The sun makes everything better in England and the music really didn't matter, Robin and I drank cans and lay about in the sun, ate a hog roast sandwich (other food available; jerk chicken, kebabs, Brazilian food, dim sum, posh burgers, posh fucking hot dogs (how did hot dogs get everywhere!? Absolutely, every, fucking, where. I saw an ice cream van selling them the other day. Ice cream vans should only sell ice cream and drugs.) and loads more) had an ice cream, drank some more cans. I even got offered the obligatory spliff whilst I was waiting for Robin. By the time I'd drank my eighth can I knew what the bar man in the cider tent had meant earlier in the day when he wished me luck. How the hell was I going to find my way back home? Standing up seemed too much of an effort at that point, I wanted to lie in that field forever.

http://www.crystalpalacefestival.org/

The £5 record buying (mostly photo based) occasional series #1: Lucky Seven Records

Check that out for an inspired title of this occasional, mostly photo based series where I go to a record shop and spend £5 on records in the bargain section of record shops around London. Because, basically, I have nothing better to do and my record collection has some gaping holes that can only be filled by buying twenty year old records that no-one else wants and will never be worth anything (hence why they're in the bargain section of record shops).

Actually filling the gaps of my record collection isn't really what this is about; it's about finding funny covers, cool covers, shit covers, forgotten bands, lost classics and buying something dirt cheap. Everyone likes things, especially things that don't cost very much. As the series goes on maybe I'll come up with some kind of formula for picking the records but for the moment it's quite random. But have a go yourself, let me know what shite gems you find.

My companion in this mission, Helen, is mostly to blame for this, you can blame her for the worst records too. Lucky Seven Records in the posh hipster neighbourhood of Stoke Newington sells records, books, CDs, DVD's and anything else you'd expect to find in an old school record shop that is probably struggling to stay open. They have 7"s for 10p and 12" records from 50p upwards. We decided to spend most of our time perusing the one record for £1 or three records for £2 rack (thinking we were too good for the one record for 50p or three records for £1 rack and definitely not good enough for anywhere else). This is what we came out with.

That Petrol Emotion- End of The Millenium Psychosis Blues album

Confused pre Madchester/ Indie dance thing. Bought because: I liked the name of the band and thought I knew them.

Squeeze- Cool For Cats album

Punk band who weren't really punk at all, they just played guitar music when punk was happening. Bought because: it's kind of a classic, the cover is pretty cool and I definitely knew them.

Senseless Things- Primary Instinct single

Band that influenced the kind of bands bands that featured heavily in Fracture fanzine back in the day. Bought because: It's Senseless Things, int it, the cover amused me.

Simon and Garfunkel- Greatest Hits album

Paul and Art singing songs together before they sang songs without each other. Bought because: Paul Simons beret I imagine, and the songs. (Helens choice)

Elton John- Greatest Hits album

Princess Dianas friend. Bought because: The cover art; Elton Johns has some amazing record covers which show him in a variety of stupid costumes, he'll probably feature heavily in this series. (Helens choice)

Gladys Kinght and The Pips- Every Beat Of My Heart album

Motown legend. Bought because: Of their lovely smiles, taches and afros on the cover I imagine, and the songs. (Helens choice)

The New Vaudeville Band- Tap Your Feet two record album

Weird 60's band that started as a joke, and probably continued as one. Bought Because: Fuck, don't ask me. (Helens choice)

Support your local (and not so local) record shops.

Visit Lucky Seven at 127 Stoke Newington Church Street, Stoke Newington, N16 0UH

Free Places To Drink Cans In London Without Feeling Like A Tramp #1: Lords

 This is the first in an occasional series where I attempt to find places in London where you can drink cans of beer for free and not feel like an outcast from society or a bench hugging homeless person. Everyone knows London is an expensive place to live and drink and I believe if I find nice ways round this (so not sitting at home, alone, watching films and drinking cans of cooking lager like a one Man Behaving Badly) it is my duty to share my findings with the two readers of this blog. I'll receive your thanks in the guise of a four pack of London's Pride, it's really not a problem though, someone's got to do it. It may as well be me.

Yorkshire taking on the dodo

It's a little known fact (as no-one cares) that during County Championship cricket matches (that's the four day stuff which if you believed the papers are only attended by three OAP's and a dog. Which is patently untrue, especially when Yorkshire come to town; there are three OAP's, a dog and me.*) after the tea break they open up the gates for any riff raff to come in and watch the last session for free. That's basically £5.33 of cricket that you get for free at Lords. (A days ticket is £16 for the mathematically challenged.)

Cherie Blairs Mouth

It is Middlesex County Cricket Club who play their home games at The Home Of Cricket (that's what Lords calls itself, the pompous twat) but it isn't actually a county, it isn't actually anything so I feel they're cheating a bit. Middlesex the county was abolished on April 1st 1965 so not only do they not exist any more, they seem to have been a victim of an Aprils fools joke that went horribly wrong as people actually believed it resulting in bureaucrats actually wiping the county off the register. How unfortunate. They really must have a major complex about this and constantly question who they are all the time (easy answer: they are no-one) and to combat this identity crisis they seem to have developed a player called Adam London to give them some sense of belonging somewhere. If the grounds in London and they have a player called London surely that's where they belong right? Me thinks they're trying a tad too hard. They should just give up and realise they don't exist, it's obvious, it says so on Wikipedia. Bearing this in mind my home county of Yorkshire, (who were playing Middlesex at Lords hence my attendance and this blog) the biggest and best county in the whole land, couldn't possibly lose to somewhere which basically isn't real. The match wasn't really Davis versus Goliath, it was Goliath versus the dodo. Those dodo's do look like menacing fuckers though, I've seen one in the Horniman museum. A lot was at stake.**

The Champagne Bar didn't open when Yorkshire came to town. Wonder why.

Anyway as I say they open up the gates usually a bit after tea which usually ends at about 4pm and you can get in most areas of the ground (if you've got a tie, jacket and a members card for any county you can get into all areas except the corporate boxes) and the stewards don't treat you like a piece of white dog shit that you don't see any more because our great nations street cleaners are so efficient, so you can actually talk to them like human beings and if in the unlikely event they do question you just say you want a look around. They even called me 'Sir' on all four days I was there. The main up shot of the stewards being okay and treating their patrons as normal people is they don't check your bags so even though the County Championship rules say you can only bring in four cans of beer per person you can actually bring in as many as your bag can carry. I recommend going down to Millets and buying an 80 litre hiking rucksack.

A Bowler

If you do decide to go to Lords for a final session to have some cans you must adhere to certain cricket etiquette; don't stand up or walk around in the middle of an over, turn your mobile phone to silent, don't smoke in the stands, clap when you can (I'm not getting into the intricacies of clapping etiquette here, it'll take my whole life) and be kind to all follow watchers of the real beautiful game. But one of the main things is to keep your ears ready to overhear old people imparting wisdom to each other, they're very wise, have lived at least two thirds of their lives and know their shit, they will teach you a thing or two. On this occasion I've heard a woman wax lyrical about how obituaries are the only bit of the paper she reads and a man in his sixties banging on about banging whores in Thailand. We live in a truly wondrous world.

The Full Toss Bar. Add your own amusing caption.

The other main thing, the most important aspect about going to the cricket that you must understand is the lunch box. Believe me, the non assuming packed lunch hasn't been this important since you went to Lightwater Valley or Alton Towers on a school trip. The cricket lunch box can be a wonderful thing and if you take it seriously there are a few rules you should follow. First of all being out in the open air all day means you'll feel constantly hungry and in need of snacks throughout the day so pack enough. I usually take two full lunches, a breakfast and then various pork based nibbles for a full day but if you're only going for the two hours after tea one lunch and some nibbles should be sufficient enough for you.

You should have staples of your lunch box; some fruit, a sandwich, crisps, a Gold Bar, (your chocolate based confectionery should always be a Gold Bar, cricket has delusions of grandeur; so should you) and the aforementioned pork based snacks. Once you have your staples it's time to have your fun and turn a run of the mill packed lunch into a cricket themed packed lunch. Here's what you need to do; first, think about your teams opposition, this will determine the rest of your lunch box or indeed what flavour/ fillings your staples will be. You must base your food from the county your team is playing, for example if you're playing Leicestershire you'll need a Melton Mowbray pork pie, if it's Gloucestershire you are up against your sarnie should contain Gloucester cheese, if your county is playing Somerset you should have a cider (or ten) in your box (or your new 80 litre bag from Millets). Once you've got that out of the way check the team sheet of the opposition; if they have an Indian international playing include a Bhaji, if they have a West Indian include rice and peas and so on. The possibilities are almost endless.

Lords Toilets; luxury

For me this match threw up Middlesex, a place which I hope I firmly established earlier doesn't exist and as the dodo in the Horniman museum is obviously only a model reproduction of what one may have looked like I couldn't steal it and use it's centuries old meat for a sandwich so I focused on Yorkshire. I made a few Wensleydale cheese sandwiches, packed some ham from a Yorkshire pig, sweated some Harrogate sausages with red onion and wrapped them in Yorkshire puddings and brought some Gold Bars. Always the Gold Bars. I also bought a bottle of Magnum*** as Middlesex had West Indian Corey Collymore playing for them. Please, please, please take the cricket lunch box seriously.

Even if you can't be bothered packing your own lunch box I recommend going to Lords for some cans at the end of the day.**** It'll be the nicest, most majestic, elegant place you can drink cans for free without feeling like a tramp. The toilets are worth it on their own, trust me.

Note for Yorkshire fans: Yorkshire won by 10 wickets, this is the best and most confident Yorkshire team I've seen in the eight or so years I've been watching Championship cricket regularly and weather permitting, I think we'll win the title this year.

*Not actually true, County Championship matches are quite well attended and you get less twonks who only go to matches where they can decipher the opposition (so they can shout abuse at them) by the colour of the shirt they're wearing.

**Actually hardly anything was; it was a cricket match.

***Not really, cricket is no place for insanity in a bottle.

****I actually recommend going for the full day, or more specifically for all four days of a County Championship game so that you can appreciate the ebb and flow of a proper cricket match. £16 (or £5 for the final day) for seven hours entertainment isn't much at all and it is worth it.

No One Seems To Understand The Glory Of Guitars When Out Of Tune, The Off Timing, The Singers Who Can't Sing. The Beauty Of Flaw*

As someone who thinks punk music may have really come about so that the rhyming couplet thinking and drinking could have a proper home (it's the best rhyming couplet ever written and sang, closely followed by Romeo/ Oreo as in "I wanna be her Romeo/ I wanna lick her Oreo" from 'I Wanna Be With Her' by The Connie Dungs) pop punk was always going to be my favourite variant of the genre when I discovered it. I remember reading Maximum Rock 'N' Roll back in the late 90's and being intrigued by band names such as Operation: Cliff Clavin, Sicko and Boris The Sprinkler and entered into a band finding mission (similar to the one that I undertook with Fat Wreck and related bands a couple of years previously) which took me from Mutant Pop Records to Crackle! Records** to Speedowax Records and everything in between in a few short months.

The bands on Epitaph Records and Fat Wreck Chords of the mid 90's and beyond obviously have a firm footing in the pop punk genre but they have transcended it to become a variant of the genre in their own right. The Epi-Fat sound is different from what I now think of 'proper pop punk' and for the main part I'll be shoving them to one side for this piece as for me the song writing has become a rather boring and far too easily and crucially oft repeated formula, which is probably a view shared by the proprietors of these labels if their recent signings and releases are anything to go by.

Pop punk to me is basically what it says on the tin; pop music played fast, with attitude, humour and passion. It doesn't take itself too seriously but it is serious. It's not about reinventing the wheel; it's about having a good time but at the same time about educating, protesting and sharing ideas. So really it's about drinking  and thinking, thinking and drinking.

A photo of some records

Pop punk had disappeared from my life over the last five years or so, as Green Day made it massive and became bland and other bands split up to become post hardcore, emo or gruff punk bands the amount of bands pedalling non Epi-Fat pop punk (Ramones, Dickies and/or Chrimpshrine sounding stuff) seemed to diminish, either that or I got bored of looking. Or perhaps I was deluding myself that if I listened to The Hold Steady or Titus Andronicus I was somehow growing as a human being; that I wasn't a kid any more. This has it own problems though as a lot of my favourite songs from my 'youth' (the ones not about thinking or drinking, or thinking and drinking) were about not wanting to grow up, not wanting to fit in with my parents generations model of society, about wanting to feel young, different and having solid ideals forever. So if I was deluding myself I was hiding a part of me that I had always believed in and although I do love the two aforementioned bands they weren't the ones who were there when I was crying in my room over a teenage broken heart; Skimmer were and they made me laugh, The Mr T Experience were and they made me cry. And then made me see how stupid everything was and how EVERYONE goes through crap like this. At least everyone who likes crappy songs played by ugly blokes with bad haircuts in less than two minutes. They were me, I was them.

 So it was with great interest I found two gigs in the same week purporting to be pop punk gigs and I obviously decided to go along. I say obviously as I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't go. On Monday (03/06/13) Delay, Spoonboy, Martha and Bad Librarian were playing the Cricketers in Kingston. Unfortunately I missed most of Bad Librarian due to spending some of my CAMRA Wetherspoons vouchers in The Kings Tun beforehand and then getting a little lost so I'll skip to Martha. Martha are the two blokes from the brilliant ONSIND and two others. On Stage they looked like two sets of two different bands; a couple of punk kids and a couple of indie kids and their music bears that out. It's a cross between indie pop and pop punk and it works; you've got some indie pop jangly guitar playing and almost shouty vocals so you end up somewhere between RVIVR and Milky Wimpshake which on paper doesn't make sense but live and on record it does. They're the only band I know that have managed to cross between two genres both in their sounds and the 'scenes' they play in; they play punk gigs like this one but are also playing the indie pop scenes biggest festival Indietracks. This should definitely be encouraged, other than cardigans, baked goods and some awful tweeness the indie pop scene and sound isn't that far away from pop punk at all. As they’re straight edge they’re more likely to rhyme not drinking and thinking but it should be apparent that thinking is the predominant word within the couplet. Anyway check them out here.

A rubbish photo of Martha

Spoonboy, from Washington DC was superb, first playing a couple of songs solo and then being joined on stage by three members of Martha he played political tinged songs about patriarchy, hating his dad and hating his dad some more. And some other things too. He has a few albums and EPs that you can hear on his bandcamp page here but to me he sounded a bit like a cross between J Church, The Weakerthans and Billy Bragg, so it's kind of pop punk, kind of folk punk. Don't let that put you off though, it would be best if you made up your own mind. I certainly recommended him; quirky, incisive, interesting, poppy and bloody brilliant.

Delay are a punk band from Ohio who were a little better than okay. They seemed like nice guys and had a few good sing-a-long songs (at least one guy at the front seemed to think so) but they just didn't do it for me, I'm not sure what it was, just not my thing, maybe just not my kind of pop punk, maybe not that pop punk at all. Good songs played well though, you can check out their new album here.

On Wednesday (05/06/13) my local punk pub the Birds Nest in Deptford hosted The Lemonaids, The Kimberley Steaks, Wonk Unit and Griswalds. First things first; if you live in London please go and support the Birds Nest by going to a gig or two and buying some drinks there every month, it's a nice little venue and all the gigs are free so there's no excuse not to.

Griswalds are a pop punk band from Orpington who have been going since 1995. Nineteen Ninety Fucking Five. They sing songs about UFOs, teenage heartbreak and other nonsense, they sound a lot like the Ramones and Screeching Weasel. When I first moved to London I saw their name on a flyer for gigs at the Birds Nest and thought that it couldn't possibly be the same Griswalds from the nineties so I popped along to the gig and lo and behold it was them. And they were ace. And are ace every time I see them. They even threw in a Toast cover in this set. These guys deserve to be checked out, they're fun, poppy, loud and have been going for 18 years. They should be more highly thought of in the UK punk scene in my opinion but I guess it's because they've always pedalled the end of pop punk that's never actually been that cool but with bands like Masked Intruder and Teenage Bottlerocket becoming a bit more popular maybe it's time for people to show them some love. Or at least turn up to one of their gigs and check them out, they're as close to an institution the 90's UK scene has left and should be revered for being so, even its only for the fact they've had the gumption and dedication to do something they love and believe in for so long.

Wonk Unit were up next and were led by a crazed, charismatic front man singing songs about being a plasterer and idiots on public transport. They fit somewhere in the ether between Snuff, Anal Beard and Boris The Sprinkler. If you like your punk rock fun and slightly strange check these guys out. Really good live show, you can check out their album here and after you've listened to that do yourself a favour and check them out live.

The Kimberly Steaks, from Glasgow sounded to me like a cross between Goober Patrol and early Green Day with a bit of Jawbreaker thrown in for good measure but you can probably discount that as I had a build up of wax in my ears. They were pretty cool and are well worth checking out, you can do exactly that here.

TheLemonaids, also from Glasgow were absolutely fucking brilliant, Queers type surf pop punk with loads of song titles that contain brackets (I LOVE brackets!! (Love them)). Alongside most of the bands that played at the two gigs they reminded me of why I fell in love with pop punk in the first place; it felt and looked like a fun place to be. They reminded me it was and is a fun place to be. They even chucked in an 8 song Ramones medley. There wasn't anything especially original on show but the three chords, sing-a-long choruses and joy that the band played with meant that everyone in the pub went home with a smile on their face. The Lemonaids include at least one guy (or maybe just used to?) from the superb pop punk band The Muderburgers who have just signed to Asian Man Records in the US. That is a very big deal. Pop punk is back, and it's still as brilliant and as vital to some people as it ever was. And in the case of some, namely the Griswalds, it never went away. Sometimes, I guess, you've just got to keep believing in the things that you love.

I can't see pop punk ever reaching the heights again where one of it's lesser known singers (Rev Norb from Boris The Sprinkler) amusinglyappeared on the Jenny Jones show or where it's biggest beneficiaries (Green Day) are able to write and sell out a Broadway musical but I think that's a good thing. Pop punk is back in the hands of the people who love it and know it best. People who love to drink and think and love rhyming the two words together in passion fuelled, honest, fun pop music.

* From NOFX- Jaw, Knee, Music. (I know using NOFX lyrics as a title is out of sync with the article but life is full contradictions. Deal with it.)

**This article was mostly written whilst listening to the Killed By Crackle! compilation. If you don't own it, you should.

A Season Spent Standing Quite Closely to Fat Bob from Hard Skin



Before I moved permanently to London a couple of years ago my second consideration (the first was where to live) was which football team I could watch and support. As a Leeds United fan by birth this gave me a chance to start over, to atone for the sins of my clubs fans in a small way (only last year I was on my way to Champion Hill from work when a group of Leeds fans on their way to Millwall got on the train and relieved themselves in the aisles as there were no toilets available. As their piss trickled down the aisle, past a couple of kids sitting opposite me and the group continued to chant songs about being the Champions of Europe whilst downing cans of cooking lager I couldn't help feel a little sorry for them. Angry of course but anger mixed with a twinge of sadness. How had a whole football teams supporters become such a  parody of themselves?) It was a chance to get away from the money, to get the hell away from Ken Bates, to get away from the not so closet racists on the Kop. I needed a club that would help me fall back in love with football again. I was probably as jaded and as cynical as any 30 year old football fan had any right to be but I did still love the game. I needed a club to show me why I fell in love with the game as a five year old, a club to excite me, a club to make  me feel a part of it, part of the club and part of the city, part of the community. A club that could make me feel that paying to get in and supporting a football team was actually important and not a major inconvenience to over officious stewards. I did think perhaps I was asking a tad too much but after a quick internet search and the obligatory question on Facebook to friends (Which football team should I support in South London? No comments, no likes. Lots of self pity)  I decided to visit Champion Hill to watch Dulwich Hamlet FC. Mainly, I have to admit, because they played in pink and blue shirts. After one half of football though I realised I hadn't been asking nearly enough; this was everything I wanted and more.  A team playing attractive football, friendly stewards and other volunteers, amusing fans, great atmosphere AND I was allowed to smoke and drink around the ground. I fell in love in 45 minutes and have continued falling for Dulwich's many charms ever since. It helps that the team are bloody brilliant.

Half way through my first season attending Champion Hill I learnt from Kilvo (him of Leeds based cricket and Yorkshire themed Oi! band Geoffrey Oi!Cott (best named band since Balls Deep In The Dead)) that legendary punk bassist, vocalist and apparently all round funny man Fat Bob of (mock?) Oi! punk band Hard Skin had a season ticket for the Hamlet. I say apparently because I've never seen Hard Skin live so had no idea how round or funny he was. I only bought one of their albums to give this blog some kind of context and maybe review it so the whole thing isn't one long rambling bit of nonsense about nothing very much at all. I did see Wat Tyler (his old band) support J Church at the Duchess, Leeds in 1997 but I can't be expected to remember that (though I am often reminded by friends who were there that when J Church announced one of their songs as "This one's about my Grandma dying" I inappropriately screamed my approval which led to confused looks from the singer (it was the only song I knew of theirs, the one on the Honest Dons Welcome Wagon compilation.)) I do have one of Wat Tylers 7"s though so I guess that makes me a fan. Of sorts.

Anyway I had an idea of who this Fat Bob character may be (his moniker doesn't leave much to the imagination) and I promised Kilvo that I would introduce myself to him at the next match. Of course I didn't; I'm far too shy and socially retarded to introduce myself to a stranger. Especially a stranger who's in a band that some of my friends love. I did, however stand close to where he stood for a couple of matches that season. Standing, silently, a couple of yards away was as close to hero worshipping of another persons hero that I would allow myself to carry out.

During that first season me and my friend Robin would walk around the ground and perch where we found a good spot for a few minutes, almost constantly on the move searching out the best places to watch from, where the best atmosphere was to be found but that wouldn't do for our second season. If you go to watch a football team regularly you should have a regular spot where you can berate the linesman from, where you get to know the people around you without even talking to them so at the start of the 2012-13 season we chose to be less nomadic with our Hamlet viewing and divide the home matches into two halves. The first would be spent near the half way line where Fat Bob and his friends stood (the group later in the season becoming known as the Dultras due an amazing banner self christening themselves thus; check out the photo below) and the second spent behind the goal as the inevitable Dulwich juggernaut rolled over any team that stood and slipped before them.

 



Fat Bob in a pink hat. Photo by Andy Nunn

It was the first halves that brought the most laughter which included moments like when Fat Bob shouted at a Three Bridges FC winger who was remonstrating with the referee to "get back to one of your Bridges" or when he leapt to meet a wayward cross field pass and headed the ball back into play accompanied by a triumphant wail. I imagined at times it was like getting into a Hard Skin gig for free though obviously with less songs about pretending to support Millwall. The second halves defined the season, supporting the team from behind the goal was a joy, urging the team forward, feeling that as a crowd we were making a difference, feeling like it mattered. Dulwich, in the top two for almost all season, managed a draw in the last game of the season to be crowned champions, the clubs first title for 35 years. I've never been more emotional at a football match before, I was genuinely elated for the players, management, fans and all associated with the club as everyone came together to celebrate on the pitch. In just two seasons the club has made me feel welcome, made me feel a part of the place where I live, made me feel a part of something that means something; just like the punk rock music scene had done for me back in 1997. Even if I never will get round to talking to singers in bands.

Oh Yeah the review; On The Balls (released 2012 on JT Classic Records) has lot's of swearing and some other stuff on it. It's pretty bloody good. There's also a 'sister' release called Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear which features a load of female singers such as Beki Bondage (Vice Squad) and Manda Rin (Bis) singing the same songs. I haven't heard it. Yet.

Hard Skin play Out of Spite Punk Rock and Ale Festival (OOS13) at Brudenell Social Club,  Leeds, Saturday August 3rd.