Whatever Happened to the Bosworth Boys?

Four members of the Bosworth Boys in 1981:

Lee Flavell and Greg Mason stand in front of Neil Attree and myself

 

'Oh, what happened to you? / Whatever happened to me?

What became of the people we used to be?'

 Highly Likely (1973)

 

I.

 

Possibly because I've been watching Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? [1] five nights a week on That's TV  (Freeview 56) - the home of iconic television from the last fifty years - I've been constantly humming the theme song [2] and feeling even more nostalgic than usual for the 1970s and old friendships formed at school ...

 

 

II. 

 

It will probably not surprise readers of this blog to discover that I did not go to an elite school as a child. 

 

That's not to say, however, that the institutions I attended - or the teachers who worked in them - were useless, or that I felt in any way deprived of opportunity (although to be unaware of what one is lacking or missing out on is, of course, a sign of deprivation; what the Marxists call false consciousness).     

 

Just that they had limited facilities and mostly looked to supply Ford Dagenham rather than Oxbridge.  

 

 

III. 

 

I began my educational journey at Bosworth Infant School in the late 1960s, before progressing to Bosworth Junior School (conveniently located right next door) in the early '70s. 

 

Both these schools on Charlbury Crescent, Harold Hill, were opened in 1951. And both were closed (and eventually demolished) in 1974, the year I left to begin senior school, because of fears of imminent collapse due to the use of high alumina cement in their construction [3].

 

My senior school was Bedfords Park Comprehensive; formed in 1973 by the amalgamation of Harold Hill Grammar School and Broxhill Secondary Modern School (or Boothill, as it was known locally) [4]. 

 

 

IV. 

 

It was at Bedfords Park that my friends and I were identified as the Bosworth Boys ...

 

Before that, we had no notion of ourselves as constituting a distinct group or gang. We were just boys of the same age who lived on the same estate, played football together, and were in the same class at school.

But at Bedfords Park we were the Bosworth Boys: me (the funny one); Andy Greenfield (the special one); Lee Flavell (the sporty one); Neil Attree (the short one); Mark Chandler (the tall one); and Greg Mason (the good-looking one). 

 

Whilst we were all mates, we were actually three pairs of close friends, rather than a unified group of six. 

Sadly, whilst Andy and I have remained friends and occasionally meet up for a pie and pint, I almost immediately lost touch with the others after leaving school in 1981 and I do wonder from time to time - though not very often, to be honest - whatever happened to the Bosworth Boys ...?

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? is a British sitcom first broadcast on BBC1 between 9 January 1973 and 9 April 1974. It was a sequel to the mid-1960s series The Likely Lads. 

      Both were devised and written by Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais and both starred Rodney Bewes, as Bob Ferris, and James Bolam as his long-time best friend Terry Collier. However, they were very different shows; not only was Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads? in colour, it was smarter, funnier, and more touching (the comedy often including elements of pathos).   

      Overall, there were 26 episodes across two series, plus a 45-minute Christmas special in December 1974. The show (rightly) won a BAFTA TV Award for Best Situation Comedy in 1974.  

 

[2] The show's theme song, 'Whatever Happened to You', was written by Mike Hugg and Ian La Frenais and performed by a session band with singer Tony Rivers supplying the lead vocals. Recorded and released as a single on BBC Records (under the name Highly Likely), it reached number 35 in the UK Singles Chart in 1973: click here. Or for those who wish to know more, here's a short interview with Mike Hugg discussing the song: click here.

      Finally, Thom Bonneville will be amused to discover that a punk version was released by the British band Snuff as a Christmas single in 1995; it can be found on the album Potatoes and Melons Wholesale Prices Straight from the Lock Up (Fat Wreck Chords, 1997): click here. 

 

[3] Strangely - and rather disconcertingly - this phenomenon of buildings, businesses, and institutions that I have been associated with closing and then having all physical traces of their existence destroyed, has continued throughout my lifetime.

  

[4] Bedfords Park School in Harold Hill, Romford, Essex was closed in 2010. It is now the site of a thousand new homes and the Noak Hill Sports Complex (see note 3 above).

Memories of Killing Joke (1984 - 1987)

Killing Joke in their mid-80s splendour

(L-R: Geordie Walker / Paul Raven / Jaz Coleman / Paul Ferguson) 

 

A correspondent writes: 

I got the impression from a recent post [1] that you were something of a Killing Joke fan back in the mid-1980s and I was hoping you might expand on this - did you, for example, ever see them live in this period, when, in my view, they were at their very best? 

 

Well, as a matter of fact, I did see them live on at least three occasions; as attested to by the following entries in the Von Hell Diaries (1980-89) ...

   

 

Sunday 1 Jan 1984

Hammersmith Palais: felt a bit like a hippie event with people sitting on the floor. Having said that, there were some fantastic looking individuals amongst the assembled freaks and morons. The support band were the March Violets: who were shit. An inferior Sisters of Mercy (who are also shit, by the way). Is there something in the water in Leeds?

      There was also a young male stripper prior to Killing Joke making their entrance on to the stage. All the punks began to pogo as if on cue (to the latter, not the former). To be honest, the set got a bit dull half-way through; I suspect that all gigs are at their best in the first ten minutes with the initial release of energy. 

      Mostly, the group played old songs and I was a bit miffed that they didn't play any of my favourite tracks from Fire Dances (although they did do a rousing version of 'The Gathering' as an encore). Jaz Coleman [2] is a captivating performer. The rest of the band are essentially just solid musicians (albeit ones who look the part and know how to create a magnificent noise). 

 

 

Sunday 3 February 1985

 

Off with Andy [3] to see Killing Joke at the Hammersmith Palais once again ...

      Lots of punks out and about on the streets of West London - and lots of police to keep 'em in line. Felt like a mug having to queue up for tickets. Met Kirk [4] inside as arranged, though he fucked off to watch the show from the balcony with some video director friend of his. A couple of support bands: Heist and Pale Fountains; neither of whom were much cop. Killing Joke came on to all the usual fanfare - and Gary Glitter's 'Leader of the Gang'. 

      The set was made up of tracks from the new album - Night Time - and the first two albums (nothing from Revelations or Fire Dances). Became separated from Andy and made my way to the front. Got so hot that I seriously thought I was going to spontaneously combust (though probably sweating too much for that). Brilliant night: almost tempted to describe it as a (neo-pagan) religious experience - song, dance, and Dionysian frenzy. Even Andy enjoyed it (I think).   

 

 

Sunday 28 September 1986

 

Back to the Hammersmith Palais for what seems to be becoming an annual event in the company of Killing Joke. Not a bad show, but nowhere near as good as last year. It also felt like a much shorter set; one which opened with 'Twilight of the Mortal' and closed with 'Wardance'.  

      Most - if not all - of the songs were from the first, fifth and (yet to be released) sixth album. The new tracks sounded great - and Jazz looked amusingly grotesque as he blew kisses to his brothers and sisters - but the performance never really took off. And so, I went home feeling a little disappointed.      

 

 

Finally, it might also interest my correspondent (and other readers) to know that I once met Jaz Coleman, at Abbey Road Studios:

 

 

Friday 7 August 1987

 

Lee Ellen [5] rang this morning: she said if I got over to Virgin by 1 o'clock, then she'd take me with her to the studio where Killing Joke were recording and introduce me to Jaz Coleman (having reassured him that I wasn't some lunatic fan). 

      Jaz was much smaller in person than expected and had strangely feminine hands, with long, slim fingers. He also dressed in a disconcertingly conventional manner. Geordie, the good-looking guitarist, was there, but the rest of the band, apparently, had been fired.

      Jaz played tapes of the new material (just the music - no vocals); sounded good (quasi-symphonic). He said the new album would be called Outside the Gate - which is a great title [6] - and that it would bring the Killing Joke project to perfection. After completing it, he planned to emigrate to New Zealand. 

      Mr. Coleman also took great pride in showing me parts of a book he'd been working on for eight years and we talked, very briefly, about D. H. Lawrence's Apocalypse (which he liked) and Yeats's Vision (which he didn't like). 

      Before leaving, Jaz expressed his desire to converse at greater length one day and I very much look forward to that (should such a day ever in fact arrive) [7].   

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm guessing the post referred to was 'Musical Memories' (30 Aug 2023): click here - although I do mention Jaz Coleman and Killing Joke in several other posts on Torpedo the Ark. 

 

[2] Jaz Coleman; lead singer with post-punk British band Killing Joke.

 

[3] Andy Greenfield; friend and, at this time, a Ph.D student at St Mary's Hospital, Paddington.

 

[4] Kirk Field; friend and, at this time, lead singer and lyricist with the band Delicious Poison. 

 

[5] Lee Ellen Newman; friend and, at this time, Deputy Head of Press at Virgin.  

 

[6] In fact, I thought this was such a great title that I later borrowed it for my Ph.D - although the phrase outside the gate can be found in Nietzsche and D. H. Lawrence, and is also often used in occult circles.

 

[7] It hasn't so far. 

 

 

Although there were bootleg audio recordings made of all three gigs discussed above and these are now available on YouTube, they are of such poor quality that they don't give a fair representation of just how good a live band Killing Joke were (and to diehard fans still are). Readers are therefore invited to click here to watch a performance recorded live in Munich, at the Alalabamahalle, on 25 March 1985, for broadcast on German TV.     

 

In Memory of Stan Lee and on the Joy of Collecting Comics

Image: The Hollywood Reporter (July 2016)

We assume, says Freud, a strangely considerate attitude towards the dead.

Not only do we suspend all critical judgement and turn a blind eye to their shortcomings, but we write nice things about them on social media in cultural obedience with the ancient command De mortuis nil nisi bene. This display of posthumous kindness and respect contrasts sharply with the mockery and malice we usually direct towards the living.   

So it is that I have refrained from saying anything about Stan Lee, the Marvel Comics genius who died, aged 95, earlier this month. Clearly a gifted, energetic and ambitious individual - and someone who exerted a significant influence over my childhood - I nevertheless struggle to think of anything more I can say about the man.

Truth be told, I always found him a little annoying and hated all that Excelsior! bullshit. What's more, looking back, I don't even think I really cared about his costumed heroes or storylines. What I really enjoyed, I think, was collecting comics rather than reading them.

That is to say, I loved them as cultural artefacts; glossy, colourful objects that had come all the way from America and which put homegrown comics (including the piss-poor British editions of Marvel comics) in the shade. 

The excitement lay in the anticipation of the books arriving monthly in the local newsagents and then going on a Saturday morning to buy (or steal) them. And the pleasure lay in piling 'em up on the floor and watching the collection grow, as I competed with my friend Andy to see who could get the most or earliest issues of those titles we privileged.