Simply the Best joke on Peter's Friends

Christian looking fresh in Fresher's Week, just prior to the Oompah band

I need say nothing more than this depicts Christian in his pomp. Would you believe that he’s even better at cricket than football? And his twin brother David was (and is) the other way round, as Christian never ceases to remind him.....

All the fun of EC1

Do not adjust yout monitor....

Guess who your correspondent bumped into at Barbican Station earlier today? I will give you a clue. She used to have a friend called Randy Panda, in addition to almost being bumped into, she’s got a bump up her jumper. Yes, you guessed it. Bristols Spice was en route to work in Old Street in her rather striking spectacles as pictured above, whilst I was off to an unfashionably early lunch, and within seconds of our meeting, her coat was off and I was “stroking her womb”, which I know Comrade Ralli found to be a particularly pleasant part of the incubation process. All things considered, Buuuuuud seemed (and looked) very well, although she finds the commuting tiring. The stresses and strains of responsibility, no doubt. Not to mention the impending motherhood.

The Darling Buds of May Week

How to kill two birds with one stone - your correspondent with Ma Larkin and Luscious Liz

Bush & Christian with their old housefrau Kath, as captured by Tim

For years, the one thing Bush would not forgive me for (well, one of many) is the day I went shopping with her and Alex, resulting in her coming home looking like Ma Larkin and Alex like Julian Sands. Well, I accept no responsibility for the appearance of either of them – they were both adults, and were not under sartorial duress from your correspondent. Well, no more than I ever seek to exercise, given a voice. In fact, I always thought that Bush looked splendid in the dress, but there you go. Anyway, in order that you may make an informed judgment, may I present Bush and Ma Larkin together for the first time, Bush being featured along side your correspondent and the lady I am proud to call my wife after the Union garden party in June 1994, a gloriously sunny day in which a large quantity of nail varnish remover masquerading as peach schnapps was consumed. There was very little food served that day, I seem to recall, but Bush made sure she did not miss out on a good feed, and was observed by Christian disappearing into the bathroom later that evening with a platter groaning under the weight of the sausages, bacon & eggs contained thereon……...

A student in townies clothing

Sofa, i've not really stayed in touch

Well you knew as much

It's no surprise that today

I'll get up around six, and write a blog about you

So wrote Damon Albarn-Bacon in the summer of 1994 whilst reminiscing about happy days in the fens during his first year at University (“blog???”) in his seminal work “What’s the story (Sober Dave)”, and never a truer word was written in jest. Sofa was a man of few redeeming traits and a pair of unpleasant maroon basketball- style trainers whose laces he never managed to undo, who spent his days on the sofa and his night in the pub, after which he was prone to recreational violence, the undercurrent of which was detected, but never thankfully felt, by his housemates. I will always thank Sofa for allowing Steptoe to sub-let the sitting room to me, but this, of course, left me first in the line of fire when he returned home from the Earl of Beconsfield after an evening on the chum-beater. We called it a day in March, when Alex, Voldermort Gardener and I staged a coup and told him that it was all over. Cherry Hinton Road beckoned, as did a few final nights on the sofa of post-coup psycho-terror for your correspondent. Further drunken oblivion followed for the Sofa Monster who became the emu to “Rod Hull”, before Anglia & Sofa parted company due to Sofa's poor historical work ethic. Let’s hope the same fate which befell Rod Hull has been avoided by Big Steve, because as you may recall, Rod Hull died after falling off his roof whilst trying to adjust his TV aerial on evening for the football……

Chin chin. Lager, not gin......

Love is.....two days on the National Express.

Here’s an old favorite from the archives – a visit from Susan to the Fens during 1994, when he had a haircut like a Dutch lesbian and a thirst to match. Along with Muk, Susan was a regular visitor to the fens, and who fortunately managed to make some of the high days as well as standard “recreational” visits, and it is pleasing to note that after all of these years, he still owns the same t-shirt, and Angela the same tattoo. I managed to observe some of Susan’s finest hours over the years, but the one occasion at which I wish I had been present was the punt trip following the Union garden party during which he propelled a punt by hand containing the Brookfield ladies whilst walking along the bottom of the Cam. And remarkably, there were no other casualties that day. Unless, of course, you count Angela's splendid hat, which if I recall rightly, sadly drowned at sea that day.

Something changed

"It's Jim Morrison & Lord Byron" (Alex)

When Shteeeeeve was a young man, he was a vision in C & A rugby shirts, naval coats reminding him of his days in the Surbiton Hitler Youth and eyelashes longer than his hair. However, it all went wrong when he discovered the joys of the theatre, when almost overnight, he started dressing like a mime artist, and all the world turned black. Black clothes, black pints and black pudding for breakfast, and a staring role in the Anglia Pantomime “Oh Shteeeeve”, where he stole the show. If ever a man was destined to play Bob Cratchett, it was Shteeeeve (or possibly Dudley Moore), who made the role his own and danced in a loin cloth much to the delight of the ladies in the audience and his family, who were there en masse to offer support along with a sizeable number of Peter’s Friends. Shteeeeeve’s finest hour, perhaps, certainly theatrically, but, I hear you ask, why was “Shteeeeeve” so named? Well, careless talk costs lives, as Shteeeeve would no doubt attest. I think that one is subject to the 50 year rule, as people in warehouses shouldn’t throw stones, as they say in sunny Surrey. Especially when packing as much as to his days as Shteeeeve did during his days as an undergraduate......

Strike it Lucky

Dr Who?

What are the most important things a student requires in order to get thought the stresses and strains of a term in academia? Well, access to a good kebab shop, obviously, in addition to understanding bankers, a good tailor and finally and most importantly, access to a well respected purveyor of fine herbs and prescribed chemicals. With regard to the latter, of course, a marked lack of conspicuous disposition would seem to be an essential pre-requisite, so imagine my surprise to find that after having announced that he was “open for business” so as to say, the good Doctor, Dr. Russell, decided to dye his sizable mane of hair blue, as captured by your correspondent on Mill Road outside the bakers one fine morning. Not only did his pharmacy on Hobart Road accept cheques (apparently), but his medicine certainly did the job, to the extent that not one day was lost through ill health during my 3 years in the fens, although plenty of days were lost due to total and abject lethargy, or so I am told. Despite his conspicuous disposition, our herbalist managed (to the best of my knowledge) to escape the attention of the local constabulary, although this was once courtesy of an escape from Thoday Street over the back gate, much to the alarm of Jenny and Mosoumi, Sober fondly recalled recently. Well, you’ve got to get Lucky sometimes, I guess. Or not, as the case may have it.

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside....

Axminster ahoy! Jo in her carpet coat enjoying the sea air at Weston. Oh yes, and with more of Anita.

Never let it be said that Jo’s got streaks in her hair. Well, not within her earshot if you know what's good for you. Anyway, when we were very young, Jo’s hair was considerably less strawberry ginger than it is today, so just in case you forgot what it looked like, here’s a picture of Jo in her full natural state and sporting her legendary carpet coat to boot, pictured on the weekend we first met in Weston on the occasion of Sarah’s 19th birthday. I was introduced to Jo on Mill Road bridge (true) on the morning we went to Bristol, and was told “you’ll like her. She’s like Victoria Wood”. Well, I don’t go a bundle on the pen portrait (not unless you think that I’m anything like Ben Elton), but I warmed to her immediately, and jokes about her address book and my no doubt numerous ill-advised asides aside, we have never had a cross word. Not until she sees this picture, of course….

I don't know why but I had to start it somewhere.....

The real McCoy – Toto in the Spade & Becket ,29th November 1994

I have been inundated with emails over the last few days, each and every one asking the same question, viz “Your joke about Toto’s lisp is really funny Matt, but how did it first start?” Well, I had a look through the extensive archives, and managed to find evidence from Helen’s 21st birthday party held in the auspicious surroundings of the Spade & Becket on Jesus Green , in which this picture of Toto was captioned “Toto & cwisps”. So there you go. A simple joke, but as funny to Helen & Anita as the day I first told it. As Helen put it only the other day, “Do you know Matt, that joke about Toto’s lisp is the funniest 21st birthday present you ever gave me. Mike and I take it in turns to say “Sthop it!”. Hilarious.” Well, not really. As with most things I write on here about dear Helen, I made it up, and as I’ve had three warnings saying I give Bush too much stick, that’s the last I shall administer. Sorry Bush. But you did do love the voice once, as we both know, don’t you? Or should I say twice, as my wife reminds me.

Red Brick university

You too could look like this (in 1994) - Toto thinks she looks hilarious

It is one of the unwritten rules that you don’t take the piss out of Anita Chakrabarti. Quite why this is, I’m not sure, but this week your correspondent has crossed the Rubicon, and therefore expects in due course to be Rallied like he’s never been Rallied before. So anyway, in the days before Comrade Brick and her favourite media whore had interchangeable haircuts, here’s a picture of Anita with big hair. What a fackin’ Liberty, eh?

Now we know

BAFTA award winning artists (and former Footlighters to boot) David Mitchell & Robert Webb

Our old friends from Footlights, Mitchell & Webb (well, they were no friends of mine, although I did meet Mitchell once, and Steptoe auditioned before him for a “smoker”) are back on the box this Thursday, and if this clip at YouTube is anything to go by, it should be a cracker. Whosoever put this up against Ashes to Ashes, though, needs shooting. Still, that’s Numberwang for you.

Don’t leave me this way

Where's the pudding? Has anyone seen Dr Russell?

Never let it be said that your correspondent cannot laugh at himself or the misfortune of others, so to start the ball rolling, here’s one of me and Jenny at a Thoday Street party. The T-shirt sported by your correspondent was, you may recall, a parody of the Newman & Baddiel “History Today” sketch, teamed with the Viz take on the subject, with the ironic juxtaposition of Student Grant and Newman & Baddiel being the source of the humour. Come to think of it, it wasn’t particularly funny at the time, and the catch phrase was mainly repeated by wankers. Not that it stopped me wearing it, of course.

"Isn't Spain lovely this time of year, Matt"?

Lucy Honeybush & Ming Emerson in Battersea Park last summer

Happy February 14th to all of Peter’s Friends – Founders Day at your correspondents work, as you might have guessed. However you happen to be spending the day, little can beat Ming, who has taken Red Bush to Florence for 5 days, the old rogue. Bush sent me a text this morning, and is in a decidedly excited state, not to mention an expectant one, as she is rather hoping for, quite literally, a room with a view. “I’ve seen the itinerary, Matt, and under “view” it says “Carparketti”. Do you think that means we’re going to get a view of either the Arno or the Duomo?” “Probably both”, I replied in all sincerity. Ignorance is bliss, as they say in N.21, and a great comfort sometimes. Love to you all from your friends in the Village.

Who will feed the mice while they’re away?

Bush & Ming enjoying last year's mini-break with Nicholas in Diss

Bush & Ming are off for their annual spring mini-break tomorrow (how romantic). Bush has not had any clues, other than that walking boots will not be required and that 5 days of European travel insurance might be helpful, and can barely contain herself. I suppose the only question which presents itself is which tube of Frizz-Ease to take to the continent. And then, of course, which Toblerone should she buy at the airport….. I’m sure she will make her mind up. Given time.

Many happy returns to the shed

Shhteeeeeve wearing my pants and a C & A top, full of THC

Many happy returns to a rugby shirt for Shteeeeeeve, who has a lot on his plate at the moment, what with decorating, working all over the country and having a new son. All things considered, I don’t know where he gets all of his energy from….

Fcuked

For the amusement of our friends in the Principality (well, two especially), here is a photographic representation depicting by the medium of cheap pottery the events at Twickenham on Saturday. However, I must say that I thought it was a tad harsh of both Sweens and Rohan to send me this picture. Independently, I might add.

This goading is tame compared with the evening that Nicholas telephoned me from a pub, and invited the whole pub to join him in a little ditty of his own invention (sung to the tune of “She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes”) entitled “You can stick your fucking Chariots up your arse”. However, even I was surprised to find that such as simple lyric could be strung out for 23 verses…..

Worry not, my Welsh friends, the lion will roar again. Swing low.

Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder

We buy ours at M & S.

Many happy returns of the day to George Best, who is spending the day contemplating what to give up for Lent this year, which as you will know beings on Wednesday. What with Bush once being an expert on Christian’s habits, I though I might give her a call, only to find that according to the best of her recollection, Christian usually gave up pancakes for Lent. Helen usually dispenses with pancakes, her wrists no bring up to mixing the ingredients, although she fondly recalls Christian whipping her batter into a frenzy for her on Shrove Tuesday in 1994. “Happy days”, she cooed down the phone at lunch time earlier today…..

Guess who's going to dinner?

Can I have some sunglasses for my birthday, please?

No, you'll get another cheap book from us, as usual.

Many happy returns to Comrade Ralli, who is the 3rd of Peter’s Friends this year to reach the grand old age of 33 unless I’m very much mistaken. Primark Spice celebrated by going out for a girlie dinner with the wife and the rest of the Coven. I, however, had a prior appointment with Graham Norton and a pound of sausages. Not that either lit my candle on Saturday night, especially after the rugby. Happy birthday, Brick!

Swinging London

Helen & her friends ‘avin in large in the West End. They even arrived by limo, she told me excitedly earlier today.

The wild West End

Bush had a big night out this week, and spent the evening 10-pin bowling in the hallowed surroundings of the Trocadero in Leicester Square (All-Star Lanes in Holborn was fully booked, I am reliably informed). Not only was I surprised to hear of Bush’s latest hobby, but I was flabbergasted to hear that she managed to amass the grand total of 14 points in her 20 visits to the lane, a full 35 points behind the nearest competitor. And would you believe it, she can’t even blame drink on this occasion, having apparently had a month off the Chardonnay during January. Still, at least the other bowlers faired better that those of the last club Bush joined, the Brixton Gun Club’s numbers still not having recovered from the time Helen turned up on novice’s night with an AK47…...

The Best way to start the year

Christian enjoying a big night out in Diss with a "mystery blonde"

You know I make jokes about Bush fancying her old housemate Christian? No? Do you ever read this thing, or do you just look at the pictures like the wife does? Well, the man we like to call (well, I like to call) George Best has got a new girlfriend, and guess what her name is? 50p and a mug of Tetley for anyone who guessed “Brown Bush”. Or Helen, as I gather she likes to be known, understandably .

I’ve seen the lions at Longleat

Al on holiday in Margate last summer

It's amazing what you can do in Photoshop nowadays

Keen followers of travellers tales will be delighted to know that Ernest Hemmingway-Bacon is off on his travels again. I texted him on Wednesday evening to complain that Chelsea fans had impinged the speedy passage of your correspondent and his glamorous assistant en route to Putney to see The Jamm, only to receive the reply “I’ve just been eating antelope in South Africa”. Upon further enquiry, it transpires that he’s “working for the week”. Oblique as ever, our friend in key worker housing, but I’m sure all will be explained upon his return. Or not, as is invariably the case.