At Lord Bonkers' insistence, I am reproducing his foreword to the new Liberator Songbook.
For myself, I am more excited at having contributed a new verse to 'Exmoor Bah T'at'.
Bonkers Hall
Tel. Rutland 7
There was a faint tang of autumn in the air when I walked my estate this morning, so it must be time to contribute a foreword to the new Liberator Songbook.
I write these lines with a heavy heart as I heard only the other day of the sad death of Aretha Franklin. Many have praised her recording of ‘Respect’, but it was all the more remarkable to those of us who knew that she was a lifelong sufferer from dyslexia.
One must move with the times, so let me recall my own involvement in the second summer of love. (I am told that I was involved in the first, but have no memory of it.)
This was the era of house music. Like all successful genres, it developed many varieties. There was acid house, funky house, diva house, country house (particularly popular here in Rutland) and, my own favourite, hob house.
It was named in honour of that great Liberal thinker L.T. Hobhouse, who had already inspired the celebrated single by Madness.
Today we are in the fortunate position of having a member of the Hobhouse clan in the Commons. I am told the family willingness to "put a bangin' donk on it" played no small part in her capture of Bath.
I hope to hear the string trio playing hob house next time I take tea in the city’s celebrated Pump Room.
Enjoy the Glee Club, but when you sing 'Exmoor Bah T'at' please spare a thought for poor Rinka. I always found her charming company and she did not deserve her fate.
If anyone feels moved to pass round a collection for Barnstaple Dogs Home, it would be A Very Nice Gesture.
B.
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