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Blimey 
I thought you went to Tasmania.
Whilst driving across Bromley Common today I recalled with some merriment to myself a tale from long ago.
One of the first disco bookings we ever done was the Chartered Accountant's Annual Ball at Hurlingham House in one of the posher corners of Fulham.
Twas a grand affair and we obtained this booking through a Mr Paul Morley, a would-be entrepenuer holding down a day job as a surveyor on the as-then new development at Thamesmead.
When not looking through the blunt end of a short telescope our Paul became Morley Enterprises Inc, hoping to become the next Harvey Goldsmith and operating from a bedsit in Blackheath with only a communal hall phone. He was oft accused of having ideas and bearings beyond his station but he was persistent and landed this rather prestigious booking.
The year was 1970 the time late summer and we were booked to play what would now be called a chill-out lounge, playing smoochie records so presumably the Accountants could play wife swapping parties.
Top of the bill in the main hall were the top pop band of the day Edison Lighthouse who that year had enjoyed a top ten chart smash with that rousing dittie 'Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes'.
Supporting them were a rather interesting gathering of large black gentlemen wearing gaily coloured costumes who called themselves 'The West Tooting Trinidadian Steel Band' who insisted on hitting a lot of old oil drums with various sized sticks which seemed rather a pointless exercise to me but they seemed to enjoy it.
And MC in the main hall was Johnny Walker, a disc jockey some of you elders here may be familiar with.
The Chartered Accountants Annual Ball was well under way and the three of us wandered around drinking the free beer.
The financial chappies were all dressed like penguins and spoke very posh whilst their wives and/or mistresses were lavishly dressed. It quite surprised me as a goggle-eyed 19 year old just how attractive a bit of posh kitted out in a Harvey Nicks frock can be
Very nice indeed 
The beer was served in two pint glass pitchers and you had to pour it into these tiny half pint glasses. We thought that was pointless so each grabbed a two pint jug each and drank from that. One of the accountant fellows spied our actions and exclaimed 'Bally good idea old boy, bally good idea indeed' and promptly helped himself to a two pint jug and wandered off.
Very soon a great majority of the penguins could be observed wandering around with a two pint jug whilst the waiting staff searched frantically for more to meet the demand. This probably didn't sit too well with the organisers but rather endeared us to the party-goers.
And all the gathered Hilarys and Felicitys found the whole situation amusing.
The steel band played Island In The Sun and Edison Lighthouse played Love Goes.. and a rather rousing rendition of Purple Haze and just Johnny Walker was left playing records in the main hall and my mate Phil playing smoochie records in the chill room.
Ties had been loosened, female apparel was askew and the more adventurous of the Heroes of the Bought Ledger could be seen attempting to nuzzle their partners neck and other body areas.
The West Tooting Trinidadian Steel band had gone home on their coach after drinking all the rum and Edison Lighthouse were being entertained by several waitresses of a loose nature except the drummer who was Gay and had taken a shine to the Maitre D.
The atmosphere was laid back. I was getting fed up and decided to liven things up a little. We used stage fireworks back then before Health & Safety spoiled all our fun and one of these was a device named a maroon. It was basically a large bang which we let off in a dustbin filled with confetti. They were very very loud.
So I placed the dustbins strategically round the chill room and at a particularly smoochie part of a dance let them off in quick succession
After the smoke cleared and the confetti settled you've never seen so many white faces and shocked expressions. I'm sure there were more than one undergarment moistening moments there.
Most of our audience thought it was hilarious but there were quite a few who got the hump, complained and went home. Me? I was p**sing myself
That was Friday evening. Johnny Walker did introduce himself btw, declared our records 'excellent' and proved to be a thoroughly nice fellow.
On Monday afternoon we had an irate phone call from our promoter/agent, Mr Paul Morley, asking what we'd done to upset the management of Hurlingham House and the organisers of The Chartered Accountants Annual Ball.
Poor old Paul never did get any more bookings from them, never became the second Harvey Goldsmith but did go on to design a rather wonderful tube station front at Neasden.
I've never been back to Hurlingham House but to this day but I do look back on that evening with a fond wistfulness
I thought you went to Tasmania.
Whilst driving across Bromley Common today I recalled with some merriment to myself a tale from long ago.
One of the first disco bookings we ever done was the Chartered Accountant's Annual Ball at Hurlingham House in one of the posher corners of Fulham.
Twas a grand affair and we obtained this booking through a Mr Paul Morley, a would-be entrepenuer holding down a day job as a surveyor on the as-then new development at Thamesmead.
When not looking through the blunt end of a short telescope our Paul became Morley Enterprises Inc, hoping to become the next Harvey Goldsmith and operating from a bedsit in Blackheath with only a communal hall phone. He was oft accused of having ideas and bearings beyond his station but he was persistent and landed this rather prestigious booking.
The year was 1970 the time late summer and we were booked to play what would now be called a chill-out lounge, playing smoochie records so presumably the Accountants could play wife swapping parties.
Top of the bill in the main hall were the top pop band of the day Edison Lighthouse who that year had enjoyed a top ten chart smash with that rousing dittie 'Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes'.
Supporting them were a rather interesting gathering of large black gentlemen wearing gaily coloured costumes who called themselves 'The West Tooting Trinidadian Steel Band' who insisted on hitting a lot of old oil drums with various sized sticks which seemed rather a pointless exercise to me but they seemed to enjoy it.
And MC in the main hall was Johnny Walker, a disc jockey some of you elders here may be familiar with.
The Chartered Accountants Annual Ball was well under way and the three of us wandered around drinking the free beer.
The financial chappies were all dressed like penguins and spoke very posh whilst their wives and/or mistresses were lavishly dressed. It quite surprised me as a goggle-eyed 19 year old just how attractive a bit of posh kitted out in a Harvey Nicks frock can be
Very nice indeed The beer was served in two pint glass pitchers and you had to pour it into these tiny half pint glasses. We thought that was pointless so each grabbed a two pint jug each and drank from that. One of the accountant fellows spied our actions and exclaimed 'Bally good idea old boy, bally good idea indeed' and promptly helped himself to a two pint jug and wandered off.
Very soon a great majority of the penguins could be observed wandering around with a two pint jug whilst the waiting staff searched frantically for more to meet the demand. This probably didn't sit too well with the organisers but rather endeared us to the party-goers.
And all the gathered Hilarys and Felicitys found the whole situation amusing.
The steel band played Island In The Sun and Edison Lighthouse played Love Goes.. and a rather rousing rendition of Purple Haze and just Johnny Walker was left playing records in the main hall and my mate Phil playing smoochie records in the chill room.
Ties had been loosened, female apparel was askew and the more adventurous of the Heroes of the Bought Ledger could be seen attempting to nuzzle their partners neck and other body areas.
The West Tooting Trinidadian Steel band had gone home on their coach after drinking all the rum and Edison Lighthouse were being entertained by several waitresses of a loose nature except the drummer who was Gay and had taken a shine to the Maitre D.
The atmosphere was laid back. I was getting fed up and decided to liven things up a little. We used stage fireworks back then before Health & Safety spoiled all our fun and one of these was a device named a maroon. It was basically a large bang which we let off in a dustbin filled with confetti. They were very very loud.
So I placed the dustbins strategically round the chill room and at a particularly smoochie part of a dance let them off in quick succession
After the smoke cleared and the confetti settled you've never seen so many white faces and shocked expressions. I'm sure there were more than one undergarment moistening moments there.
Most of our audience thought it was hilarious but there were quite a few who got the hump, complained and went home. Me? I was p**sing myself
That was Friday evening. Johnny Walker did introduce himself btw, declared our records 'excellent' and proved to be a thoroughly nice fellow.
On Monday afternoon we had an irate phone call from our promoter/agent, Mr Paul Morley, asking what we'd done to upset the management of Hurlingham House and the organisers of The Chartered Accountants Annual Ball.
Poor old Paul never did get any more bookings from them, never became the second Harvey Goldsmith but did go on to design a rather wonderful tube station front at Neasden.
I've never been back to Hurlingham House but to this day but I do look back on that evening with a fond wistfulness
