True, I think it's one thing I agree on - CSH still hasn't got its head out of its arsehole. Or perhaps it's the Arts Council's. I couldn't bear to investigate too deeply, but fled. There may be some real people on the Council, but their Admin, my God! Never saw most of them down the bar...
Throughout my life I've been seen as the team sergeant. Of late some of my circle wanted me in on a London Gentleman's Club known as Spook Central, but they all collapsed, I'm still standing: I think that's the difference, If you're in touch with where you came from you'll persist. Me dad started in the Portsmouth Corporation Tram depot, I started as a warehouseman in Sainsburys. We both rose to do some remarkable stuff. It's the Occifers who're diletantes, amateurs, poseurs, never been there and dunnit, they need us folks to make them real: same as my daughter, bright lass, led the way with the Brussels Eurobrats showing them how the rest live, integrating them with the local community. That's half the point, isn't it? Having the nouse to call BS what it is - and that's what we're on about here. If you define the terms by which you get upset, then you've only got yourselves to blame if you get the traditional response, "two lovely black eyes, two lovely black eyes, only for telling a man he was wrong, two lovely black eyes." Gentlemen and dancers...