Fighting On Hove Lawns

Mods and Rockers

Mods and Rockers

Walking along Kindsway yesterday evening I noticed a bunch of youths fighting on Hove Lawns. This really is the limit. I thought we had got over all that palaver in the 60s. What these, so called, Mods and Rockers don’t realise is the aggravation they cause for ordinary decent right thinking people. On drawing closer I observed that these were neither Mods nor Rockers but Thatcher Children exercising in order to become good corporate citizens. Each one kitted out with paraphernalia to make them exercise better, they dreamed of starting their own restaurant franchise, winning a marketing award or building a richer web experience going forward.

I’ve noticed these people before, mainly because their leader insists on bawling his head off outside my window and his motivational ranting echos around Adelaide Crescent on summer evenings awakening right thinking people from their pre pub snoozes. I don’t know what the world has come to when young people would rather spend their evenings being shouted at by a man with a flag than do what English young people have done for centuries, namely to go down the pub. How would Rock and Roll or Punk ever have been invented if Mick Jager and Sid Vicious had spent their evenings doing press ups? I recommend a daily dose of what I had when I was their age, to wit: Hurry Up Harry by Sham 69.

Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
We’re going down the pub
We’re going down the pub

Now listen here Harry
If we’re going down the pub
You’d better tell your mum and dad
And finish up your grub
I wish you’d listen to me
No, I don’t want a cup of tea

Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
We’re going down the pub
We’re going down the pub

You’re telling me to grow up
But Harry don’t you see
If I tried to act my age
I wouldn’t be me
We never do anything
So now’s the time to begin

Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
We’re going down the pub
We’re going down the pub

You don’t have to tell me
That the thing’s I do are wrong
But everything I do in life
Is with us right or wrong
Now I think I understand
How to have some fun

Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
Come on come on
Hurry up Harry come on
We’re going down the pub
We’re going down the pub

hove station

hove station

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2 thoughts on “Fighting On Hove Lawns

  1. Yes, that was pretty much the attitude in BS in the late 70s/early 80s. Imagine my shock when I moved to Brighton in 1982 to discover it was full of pretentious hippies who thought (most of the time) that going down the pub was beneath them, and would rather sit around all night drinking Earl Grey tea, being arty and getting too stoned to be capable of interesting conversation. Although the Half Moon in BS wasn’t the summit of intellectual conversation either, at least they were funnier…

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