www.AFTERhoursSLEAZEandDIGNITY.COM

A work in progress and a place where I'm thinking...

A site covering my interest and fascination in life and times in the UK from the late fifties until about 1963, just before London became swinging.



And the early seventies when there was a corrupt, heavy feeling to Blighty and it's culture, when the country looked like an alien land to today and the wobbly old vans appeared that they might fall over at any minute. Probably mostly 1973 for some curious reason*.



And the early eighties to early middle eighties, when the war for the soul of the country was truly underway and may well have been won and lost at a place called Orgreave.

All these were times when things were in flux, nothing was yet settled, the scores had not been decided and the game could have gone either way.

So much is endlessly written about rock'n'roll in the fifties, the later sixties, mod, hippies, the summer of love, punk and the new romantic consumerist pop culture of the early eighties and blah blah blah blah blah. Over and over and over again.



But relatively little is heard about the undercurrents before these times or just as they were starting to happen.

I'm fascinated by these periods of history and this is a site that reflects that passion.

A little of England's semi-forgotten history if you will.



Not just all that of course but it may well take in Ms Christine Keeler, Richard Burton and his face like an old glove in Villain, oh and of course his pretty peasant boy (as long as he behaves), Lord Lambton and his predilection for drug fantasies with ladies of the night, Anthony Frewin's London Blues novel, Derek Raymond and the black novel, the sick man of Europe, curious times when you had to know how to spot a homo or maybe just help "rid England of this plague" as good old British buggery was well and truly illegal.

Indeed.



It may well have a fascination with the hitching and twitching of Soho's skirts and afterhours sleaze and dignity therein: the heart of town, that little tiny beating corner of London's centre.

Which may well cause us to wander across the paths of a few musical characters such as Gallon Drunk, Tindersticks and The Flaming Stars and a very particular English rock'n'roll-ery that draws from a past that never existed and might occasionally be just a touch one over the eight.

A little of England's semi-forgotten cultural history, if you will.



But this is not merely some retro longing for the past.

Yes, it's a borderline obsession but I like to look at these times because that which is swept under the carpet of time may well tell us much more about our lives and characters than the overworn spangley baubles that are waved at us from our past.

Of course, it may well just be a darned site more interesting to look at things which are a little wonky and a little off skew.

And remember "a diet of filth degrades the nation".

Thankyou.

Stephen Prince

9th January 2009



*It's strange how these things take a hold of you so specifically but they do.













There's nothing quite like a good old fashioned bit of British brutality and a good old fashioned bit of British buggery*.

"I bet you love that. You little twerp... you vicious little twerp... You always was a dirty little boy... A nasty perverted little boy... Say it... I want you to say "I am a little poof", eh? Say it."

Lines from Performance that the chaps in suits insisted were cut.



I'm endlessly drawn and entranced by the links and connections between the people and actions that can be found amongst the undercurrents and shenanigans of history. How a slum landlord like Rachman becomes involved with a hustler black power leader who is involved in scandalous photos of a royal, who was involved with a chap who could hang five(?) half pint glasses off his erect member.

How that chap could come to be in a film, Performance, that brought together genuine East End villains and London's demi-monde at the end of their rise to ascendancy, a rise to being spoilt, crumbling children and which you can follow a direct line through to the country's terrible hangover and eaten away soul that can be seen in Richard Burton's Villain.

It goes round and round, links and lines all over the "gaff".

I just looked up shenanigans in my dictionary and it said this:



Which seems somewhat appropriate for times then and now.

Steve Prince

22nd March 2009





*...ah yes, "the abominable Crime of Buggery" as defined by the Offences Against The Person Act 1861, said act reducing the punishment from hanging to life imprisonment in 1861.

Sexual acts between males was only made legal in England and Wales in 1967, in Scotland in 1980 and Northern Ireland in 1982.

It is only since November 1994 in the UK that the undertaking of the sneaky butcher has been legal "provided that the act of buggery takes place in private and both parties have attained the age of 18" (Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994, section 143).

Now, I write this, partly for amusement purposes (they take all the fun out of everything, don't they?) but also because it makes one think of how thin and close at hand the veneer of history and freedom is.



Cathi Unsworth: Bad Penny Blues Book Launch;
3rd December 2009, The Horse Hospital, London

I've not read this yet but am rather looking forward to it.

If somebody was to ask what were the definitive fiction books that I keep referring back to re this work in progress, I would most probably say Anthony Frewin's London Blues, David Peace's GB 84 and Cathi Unsworth's The Not Knowing.

These are a selection of photos from the opening night.

From left to right then down a line, left to right again etc: Cathi Unsworth (and Christina Lamb off to the side), Jim Hollands, Jake Arnott (and unknown), unknown, Martyn Waites and Jake Arnott, Ian Lowey, the chap from The Cesarians, Mike (and unknown), unknown, Max Decharne (and unknown), the chap from The Cesarians again, Cathi Unsworth and Ian Lowey.

Sunday 6th December 2009