I’m sure the film directors who did touch them are quaking in their boots now.

I love watching stuff like this. ‘Grim London in the rain 1960’s - 70’s’ is a favourite.

Just normal people going about their day. It’s so important not to subscribe to the idea that everything was fab and groovy. And if you’d have hung around Carnaby St. long enough in you’re top hat and Sgt. Pepper jacket, you probably would have bumped into Twiggy and The Beatles dancing round union flag covered lamp posts. Also to realise that everyone wasn’t living in some kind of god awful drama.

I think these two great lies have been peddled from that day to this.

The girls though? Yeah. Not difficult to compete with today’s example though. Now the sun’s out they’re all shuffling round in their mini skirts. Proudly showing off their white lumpy legs covered in ink.

Last edited by Spendthrift (2022-05-07 02:40:54)

A shame that young girls feel peer pressure to adopt the appearances they do now, orange fake tan, tons of slap, absurd false eyelashes and nails, hair extensions, revealing clothing worn but often the cellulite and tattoos that are thereby revealed make one wish they hadn’t bothered.

Mrs W and I went to Warsaw a few years ago and the first thing that struck us was that everyone was two or three stone lighter. The first thing that struck me was the lovely, natural looking, slender girls everywhere wearing very little makeup and modestly dressed. The older women were comfortable in themselves as well and weren’t trying to dress like teenagers.

Oh dear, what a sexist post, I must go off and re-do the online diversity course again to punish myself.

Sorry, U2? was of course a little play on words: that banal phrase # MeToo (or whatever) of which even my deeply feminist younger daughter is sceptical.  Back in the bad old days of Howard Hughes and Harry Cohn it was known as 'the casting couch'.  Didn't Larry Parnes go in for similar shenanigans with pretty boy pop singers all wanting to be the next Billy Fury?

I expect, like Alec Clifton-Taylor before him, Kingers is more of a 'Skinhead Moon Stomp' or 'Al Capone' man.  Frankly, I'll take the slightly cloying words of Mr. Webb or  M.Legrand to any amount of old skinhead music just as I'll take a cappuccino and almond croissant over three jugs of ale in one of Tim Martin's dismal establishments.