Steeleye Span with Peter Sellers: New York Girls

What was Peter Sellers doing playing the ukulele on a track on Steeleye Span's 1975 album Commoners Crown? 

Maddy Prior explains:

While sitting over lunch we were discussing what we need to sparkle up the track New York Girls. Ukulele would be good someone said. Anyone got one? Anybody know someone who can play one? Peter Sellers plays it says Bob. Pause. Eyes meet, why not? We could ask. He could only say no. 

So we spent another interesting afternoon with a rather diffident Peter Sellers. I don’t think he’d ever been asked to play on a session before and was apprehensive about the whole affair until he realised we were delighted to have him there. He loosened up as time went by and finally finished by adding, unprompted, some Goon voices. We were ecstatic.

Bluebottle writes: I like this game!

GUEST POST In praise of outgrounds: How cricket in small towns made a roaring comeback

The Hundred may be struggling for spectators, but cricket's One-Day Cup is thriving by using grounds that do not usually see professional cricket. Matthew Pennell explains why.

Neath, Mansfield, Gosforth, Farington, Arundel, York and Cheltenham. Towns and cities you wouldn’t normally link together, but what they have in common is they all hosted sell-out games of cricket in the first week of the One-Day Cup. 

These are a combination of brand new, rediscovered or longstanding outgrounds that are proving very popular with fans. This is despite relative indifference from the ECB and county squads being depleted by the existence of franchise cricket being played on test match grounds.

This year sell outs mean a crowd of between 4,000 and 6,000. Now, football fans might be dismissive of such numbers, as they're equivalent to fourth-tier attendances in the English league, but they represent a historic high for cricket and many outgrounds are in small towns where no other professional team sport is played. 

For perspective, in 2003 the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) got very excited at crowd numbers for the first season of T20 cricket (played on county or test match grounds at evenings and weekends). These averaged around 4,000 and were far higher than the tournament it replaced, the Benson & Hedges Cup, which had an average attendance of 1,100 in 2002. At the time ECB Marketing Manager, Stuart Robertson crowed in Wisden magazine, "We are delighted by the response we have had so far."

I doubt we'll see such a positive statement from the ECB about bumper One-Day Cup attendances. It’s somewhat awkward for them that numbers are up for the Cup in provincial grounds, but down for their precious franchise tournament.

In many ways outground cricket is the antithesis of the Hundred. Crowds are dedicated and knowledgeable, you're likely to bump into parents of players (hello David Fulton’s dad), ex-players (hello Martin McCague – you are as wide as you are tall), BBC local radio commentators (hello friendly BBC Radio Gloucestershire team). It’s a pleasure to rub shoulders with people who don’t have to ask what’s going on and have been to every home game this season, so have seen every player talked up into England reckoning.

Outgrounds are small enough, without the surge in popularity, to create a good atmosphere, Maidstone with 800 people spread evenly across the grass bank didn't feel sparse. As cricket in England is not played in enormodomes the competition isn't so much about numbers as experience.

Which is the prettiest ground? Certainly Abergavenny, Arundel and Tunbridge Wells would be in with a shout (please comment below if you think I’ve missed a good one). I remember the Guardian making a

point of covering every county game at Abergavenny, despite its remoteness, because the surroundings were so lovely.

Food is a big factor in the cricket experience, I recall cupcakes and cakes supplied to a hospitality marquee by club volunteers at Guildford at reasonable prices, coupled with relaxed rules and regs about bringing your own provisions. Across the piece, it's great value for money – you’re not getting ripped off by ticket prices, car parking charges or catering.

While administrators talk of T20 and the Hundred bringing new fans to grounds, it's also the case that franchises alienate many established fans and the bigger counties absolutely need to play in several venues to reach out to their entire catchment area. In an ideal world the 18 counties would play at more than 60 venues a season, visiting several locations not covered by football or rugby. For example, Yorkshire play in Leeds, Scarborough and York. They could easily sell out in another half dozen venues, and some members would say they’re ignoring South Yorkshire altogether.

Is this year a one-off or part of a trend? Certainly the early summer heatwave in Europe has encouraged staycations and our own summer weather has made people more confident about getting a full day's play. Hopefully in a few years time I'll revisit this and talk of counties wrestling with fitting more temporary seating in the grounds that are bursting today.

Matthew Pennell blogs at Return of the Liberal.

BBC Radio Leicester's Secret Leicestershire on Oakham Castle

It's not in Leicestershire and it's no secret, but Oakham Castle is the subject of the latest short programme in BBC Radio Leicester's Secret Leicestershire series.

The programme talks about the wider castle site, not just the wonderful Norman great hall you see above.

If you want to know more about the archaeology of this fascinating site, you can listen to an online lecture by Matthew Morris from University of Leicester Archaeological Services, who has led digs there.

Harry Chapin: W.O.L.D.

Being a DJ? Turns out it's a less than poptastic business.

Aided by heavy rotation on Radio 1, with whose DJs it must have struck a chord, this reached no. 34 in the UK singles chart in 1973.

Harry Chapin, a talented singer-songwriter, died in a car crash at the age of 38.

Django Django: Cameos

This is perhaps typical of the sort of track I hear on BBC Radio 6 Music and like. It's a little bit retro, stronger on melody than rhythm and involves white boys and guitars. Could it be that I'm getting old?

Still, Song Bar likes it too:

A crisp, catchy, acoustic sound with orchestral strings and their distinctive vocal harmony style sees a welcome return from the  London-based art-rock quartet of David Maclean, Vincent Neff, James Dixon and Thomas Grace, heralding their upcoming sixth LP Doveland, out in November via Clouds Hill. 

Produced by Nick McCarthy (Franz Ferdinand), the title of the album takes its name from an online urban myth: a supposedly vanished midwest town that appears on no maps, yet some believe they once lived there, even holding souvenirs as proof. 

In answer to the question in my first paragraph... No, they won't get me. And there's more about the Doveland myth online.

Paddington Bear: Slapstick, boosting Jeremy Clarkson's career and becoming our grim reaper

Paddington Bear is a couple of years older than me, so I had one of the books about him when I was a little boy. 

I quite liked the Paddington stories and certainly liked his friendship with Mr Gruber, who treated what was essentially a furry child as though he were an equal. Children really appreciate characters like that.

But you didn't have to grow that old before you started to find all the slapstick a bit babyish. And then there was the weak characterisation. The son of the Brown household was called Jonathan, and he added little to the action beyond saying "Crikey!" now and then. I was bound to notice that.

But the television and film adaptations have made the meh bear a huge cultural figure. Not only has he become the 21st century's grim reaper, conducting the dead to the underworld- more of that in a moment - he was also partly responsible for Jeremy Clarkson's television career.

Here's part of a post I wrote a couple of years ago:

Clarkson and the BBC go back a long way. All the way back to 1973, when as a 13-year-old, be played Atkinson in BBC Radio 4 serialisations of the Jennings books.

Then he went to public school, his fees paid from his mother's business making Paddington Bear toys. And the BBC was Paddington-friendly even before the animations with Michael Hordern's voice, because Michael Bond was a cameraman with them. So you got exclusive Paddington stories in your Blue Peter annual.

And, then, of course, the BBC's Top Gear made Clarkson a millionaire. A little gratitude wouldn't come amiss.

Personally, I'd have taken Paddington's marmalade sandwiches off him for that.

And his new role as our angel of death? Here's the abstract for Jennifer Riley and Matthew Hilborn's paper (Br)Exit pursued by a bear: Paddington's polysemic political power as the `new Grim Reaper':

Though hailing from distant “darkest Peru”, Paddington Bear has become a bastion of British identity. His critically-acclaimed films (2014, 2017, 2024), starring icons of British cinema, trade on nostalgic national tropes. This symbolic imbrication peaked in 2022, starring alongside Queen Elizabeth II in her Platinum Jubilee celebrations – and later becoming a symbol of collective mourning, materially and digitally, after her death. Paddington – endangered and repeatedly imperilled onscreen – thus became the Establishment’s new mor(t)al totem, what Douglas Davies would call a ‘paradigmatic’ figure ‘good to think’ in life, and in death. 

His incongruously cuddly ‘Grim Reaper’ became a globally recognisable meme. Yet, since symbols are malleable, and film-based memes subversive and satirical, Paddington has proved a provocative meme(nto mori). Analysing social media posts (X, Instagram) and the films, this article explores Paddington Bear the Grim Reaper as politically polysemic. 

If, following Robert Hertz, society grieves those ‘in whom it incarnates itself, and with whom it identifies itself’, Paddington’s mortal multivocality forces a reckoning. Whose lives – and deaths – are grievable? And which version of Britishness should Paddington embody: the polite, Establishment-aligned “Good Immigrant”, or the racialised, once-incarcerated refugee?

 I thought such wordp(l)ay had gone out of fashion in academia in the early Nineties: I do hope it's not making a comeback. Anyway, if you really want to, you can read the whole article online.

And if you didn't believe me about Jeremy Clarkson being in Jennings, here's a cutting to put your doubts to rest. 

Reg Calvert, Oliver Smedley, Hayek and the nature of liberty

When Oliver Smedley shot Reg Calvert, more was at stake than a row over a radio transmitter. According to a 2011 blog post by Adam Curtis – thanks to a reader for putting me on to it – theirs was a dispute about the very nature of liberty:

A historian called Adrian Johns has written a brilliant book about Pirate Radio in the 1960s, called Death of a Pirate. In it he argues that Reg Calvert and Oliver Smedley represent two completely different kinds of "privateer".

Reg Calvert was part of an old, unruly tradition of true independence and libertarian freedom. A real buccaneer who would ignore rules and the structure of class and power in Britain while merrily going his own way.

Smedley on the other hand was a "privateer" only to the extent that he wanted to bring the private sector back to power in Britain. Other than that he wanted the traditional power structure to remain the same. And to do this he (and his Think Tank) wanted to reinvent the free market as a managed system - managed by them, and any true "privateer" - like Reg - who challenged that power was doomed.

Johns writes about the killing of Calvert.

"At that instant late in Midsummer Night 1966 when Smedley took his fatal decision, two kinds of piracy came into collision. Reg Calvert represented one kind - a kind whose history can be traced back centuries. He was an ingenious and imaginative entrepreneur, opportunistic and ambitious. He spoke in grandiose terms, but his operations were undercapitalized, seat-of-the-pants adventures that might bloom or collapse - as so many radical ventures initially are. The outsider, resistant to all rules.

Calvert represented the kind of pirate that the Institute of Economic Affairs hailed as holding the key to social and cultural progress. But in reality Smedley stood for a different kind of pirate altogether. He was the rational capitalist, well versed in both the maxims of accountancy and the abstract principles of liberal ideology. Privately educated, metropolitan and professional, Smedley saw himself as an agent in the political and cultural affairs of the nation.

It was this that Calvert threatened in 1966 - and what made Calvert so appealing was therefore precisely what also made him so dangerous. And as in military and political life, so in financial and entrepreneurial: Smedley's instinct was to stand fast. Hold his ground."

And the same was true of the ideas of Friedrich Hayek. He wasn't really trying to bring back an old, unpredictable, turbulent laissez-faire system - he wanted to create a new, technocratic system of managed competition that didn't in anyway threaten the existing structure of power.

Before he gets to this argument, Curtis has plenty on Calvert and Smedley and their involvement with pirate radio.

Professor Joad sees his play at the Theatre Royal, Northampton

I braved the heat today, went into town and called at the market. I came a way with a book called Repertory at The Royal: Sixty-Five Years of Theatre in Northampton 1922–92. As you would hope, there's plenty about this blog's heroine Freda Jackson, but this post is about C.E.M. Joad.

Joad was once a substantial public figure, chiefly as a member of the panel of the wildly popular radio programme The Brain's Trust. There he allowed himself to be called "Professor Joad" when he was no such thing, which riled his fellow philosophers. They also, whether from jealousy of his fame or impartial study, regarded his writing as either eccentric or plagiarised.

According to hero of the blog Bryan Magee:

He was an engaging but essentially fraudulent character. His popular books on philosophy thick-skinnedly recycled Russell’s work without acknowledgement; asked once to write a recommendation of a book by Joad, Russell replied: 'Modesty forbids.'"

While Ludwig Wittgenstein once said, in a meeting where Joad had delivered a paper criticising the form of analytical philosophy popular at Cambridge, that "naturally a slum landlord would object to slum clearance". In other words new thinking was clearing away the sort of stuff that Joad still came out with. 

The Magee quote is from an article by Richard Symonds that tries to rescue Joad's reputation as a philosopher, while the Wittgenstein quote is from Wikipedia entry on him.

Reading that Wikipedia article on Joad, you get the impression that he embraced just about every nutty theory going in the first half of the 20th century. He was a thumping sexist, though some of his braver views on social issues are now widely accepted. You may think the law of averages means he was bound to be prescient sometimes.

Anyway here's the story about Joad from my book on the Theatre Royal, Northampton. There it is credited to a manuscript in the county record office written by a theatre manager called Stephen Sylvester – presumably this Stephen Sylvester – and Alex Reeve was also on the management side of the theatre.

Northampton stuck to its commitment to new plays. In March 1946 Crackling of Thorns by C.E.M. Joad the philosopher and radio Brains Trust personality attracted widespread interest for its first professional production.

The substantive scenes, for which locations included a youth hostel and a national school, advanced the author's ideas on the reduction of the nation's population. These were interspersed with duologues between Mr .Playwrite and The Critic (Mr James Aggravate – alias for James Agate) discussing the craft of play writing.

Joad attended the first night, but although he had lent Alex Reeve, making one of his rare stage appearances as Mr. Playwrite, one of his suits he was less than enthusiastic about the identification of the character with himself:

Being the same size as Joad he [Reeve] was able to make himself up to resemble him, beard and all, and when he imitated Joe's squeaky voice the impersonation was very funny. Jude was a famous public figure ... and the audience quickly recognised the character and fell about. 

When Joad came to see the show his lack of amusement was positively Queen Victorian. In the bar afterwards he told Reeve, "I'm sure I don't speak in that squeaky voice." He said this in such a squeaky voice that we thought he was being funny, and laughed. But he wasn't, and in his subsequent radio broadcasts it was noticeable that his voice had gone down quite a few semitones.

You can hear Joad in the video clip above. If you watch the whole thing on YouTube you may form the opinion that he was a bit of a poseur. And an article on Herestical will give you the reason for the sudden end to his radio career,

Still, such was him fame that he got a mention in Shirley Bassey's first recording, which was banned by the BBC for being too sexy. Do watch it if you've not seen it before: she's wonderful. 

Sammy Going South and the morality of employing child actors

The director of Trouble at Townsend wasn't the only one to have problems with a child star being too well fed. I've read accounts of both Carol Reed and Andrei Tarkovsky making the same complaint.

But Alexander Mackendrick's account (from Wikpedia, with no source given) of the making of Sammy Going South suggests that Fergus McClelland didn't just get too well fed but too happy.

"He was a lean, hard, little boy. Tough as old nails ... a really strong character. He had the hunted look of an abused child, which in some ways he was. He came from a disturbed home; his parents were getting divorced and there were problems. So he was the perfect casting. 

"But when he went out to Africa, he started having the time of his life. The unit adored him and, to my dismay, started to feed him ... he put on weight and there was no way I could stop it. So, instead of this hunted and abused child, who’s supposed to be starving and neurotic, you had a sturdy, stocky, well fed little character. A good actor, but the physique betrayed itself."

McClelland talked about his experience of making the film in an interview with Matthew Sweet for BBC Radio 4's The Film Programme in 2010 – it begins at 24:14 – confirming much of what Mackendrick said. 

Fascinating as child actors can be, it's hard to escape the feeling that there's something inherently exploitative about their employment.

Mackendrick made the film for Michael Balcon's Bryanston Film's – Balcon had been his boss at Ealing Studios. Mark Duguid has suggested:

Balcon saw the story as a heartwarming tale of a young innocent's triumph over adversity, against the fantastic scenery of the African continent. Characteristically, Mackendrick's understanding was altogether darker: he saw it as "the inward odyssey of a deeply disturbed child, who destroys everybody he comes up against".

Mackendrick's attempt to satisfy these two interpretations is probably the reason the film doesn't quite succeed.

A motif Mackendrick's was innocent characters who caused chaos and destruction – think of Mrs Wilberforce in The Ladykillers – so it's no surprise he was attracted to W.T. Canaway's original novel. Ironically, you could say the book managed to strike the balance between his and Balcon's ambitions that the film failed to find.

The original cut produced by Mackendrick was severely trimmed before release, and cut again for the US market. There it was given the ludicrous title A Boy Ten Feet Tall, apparently because it was feared white audiences would assume a film called Sammy Going South was about a black boy and stay away.

Sammy Going South is worth watching for its rare reference to the Suez Crisis in British films or novels and for about the last treatment in a film of British colonial Africa. Sammy's parents are killed in a British raid on Port Said, and he sets out to walk to the only other relative he knows, who lives in Durban in South Africa.

And Fergus McClelland's Sammy makes a credible and winning protagonist, even if Mackendrick was right to despair that he looks healthier and happier as his trek goes on.

Why Kenneth Williams wanted to be serviced by Terence Rattigan

Having recently posted a video of Fergus McClelland with Leo McKern in Brecht's Gallileo, yesterday I had a look in the British Newspaper Archive to see if he had gone on acting for long.

He did for a while, because here's a report from the Coventry Evening Telegraph for 14 March 1966, when he would have been 15:

Duke of Edinburgh Introduces 'Nelson' 

Duke of Edinburgh has recorded an introduction for ATV's specially commissioned play by Terence Rattigan: 'Nelson: A Study in Miniature,' to be screened at 9.25 tonight. 

The play has a strong cast headed by Michael Bryant and Rachel Roberts as Nelson and Lady Hamilton, and including Celia Johnson, Michael Hordern, Sir Felix Aylmer and Fergus McClelland. 

This interpretation of Nelson – which covers the 24 days he spent in London and at his country home at Merton before his final voyage to the West Indies and engagement of the combined French and Spanish fleets off Cape Trafalgar – is largely seen through the eyes of his nephew.

And as McClennan played the part of Nelson's nephew, he must have been central to the production.

Today an extract from an episode of Round the Horne appeared in my YouTube feed. It contained a classic Kenneth Williams rant about not being properly serviced by the scriptwriters – you can listen to it above.

And when you hear Williams say they should get Terence Rattigan to write the show, "then we could have Prince Philip introduce the show ... like he done that thing on Nelson," you will recognise what he was talking about, just as I did.

Incidentally, this a good example of how Round the Horne got away with murder. "Terence Rattigan would service me" indeed.

Kenneth Horne had a parallel career as a business executive and the view at the BBC seemed to be "Horne's a good man" and "If Horne's involved then it's probably all right."

I suppose this coincidence is just an example of the quantum level of weirdness I mentioned the other day, just as I mentioned Kenneth Williams and his wish to be serviced.

No Carry Ons: Kenneth Williams's other films

This is fun. A compilation of 11 short clips of Kenneth Williams in films that aren't Carry Ons.

Williams, as he frequently pointed out on Round the Horne when he wasn't being properly serviced, was classically trained. When he was young he was highly regarded as an actor, and Maggie Smith acknowledged him as an influence on her own work.

Is The UK heading for divorce? An interview with James Hawes

I referred to James Hawes's The Shortest History of Ireland the other day, and I've just sent Liberator a review of the book by fast orphan. Here Hawes raises wider issues about the future of the United Kingdom, and he's well worth a listen.,

Among his insights are that "England", to the Conservative Party, ultimately means the South East of England and the elite institutions to which it is home. And that the Reform vote is not working class, but a vote for a more hard-line Tory party. I suspect, though, that a good chunk of it is the sort of protest vote that we Liberals used to benefit from.

A word too for Adrian Goldberg, who was one of the most welcome voices in the early day of BBC Radio 5.

A review of Terry O'Neill's life story in a social work journal

Twenty years ago, every branch of Waterstones had a section called "Painful Lives" that carried memoirs of abuse in childhood. The success of Dave Pelzer's A Child Called It in 1995 had awakened a public appetite for such literature, and publishers were happy to satisfy it.

It was in this climate that Terry O'Neill, the younger brother of Dennis O'Neill, whose death I have often written about, posted his life story on the website Authonomy under the title Never Again in 2009. This was a site where authors could post their manuscripts in the hope that its owner Harper Collins or another publisher would see it and be interested.

Fortunately, Harper Collins did recognise what a treasure they had. and published a rewritten version of Terry's book as Someone to Love Us. Despite this very "Painful Lives" title, and a cover that also made it look as though it belonged to that genre, my impression when I read it was that the ghost writer had done a good job. But I do remember things in Terry's original version that didn't make it into the published book, so I hope that manuscript still exists somewhere.

My reason for writing this post is that I've come across a review of Someone to Love Us in a social work journal. It was written by Dave Burnham and appeared in The Bulletin of the Social Work History Network (Vol. 3, No. 1, June 2016).

Here is an extract:

There are recognisable themes:

• Children never being told of decisions about them – not just by officials, but by anybody. 

• The number of placements and the yo-yo emotions associated with moving between caring family homes and rulebound institutions. 

• Although Reginald Gough’s beatings were by far the worst, the punishments meted out later to Terence in homes (beating, deprivation of food) bore a sinister similarity to Bank Farm practices. 

• The rich collection of characters involved in child care: the careful, kind leaders, the charismatic role models, the thoughtless, the demanding bullies. 

• The still silence of the scared children in the face of adult authority.

• The years of guilt Terence felt after Dennis’ death about what he might have done to save him. 

• The official emphasis on attempting to place the boys with a Catholic family, even though, as Terence said until he was in care he'd never been to church in his life. 

• The heartlessness of the press.

Most notably, during the boys’ six month stay there were perhaps ten visits by various officials, a Boarding Out volunteer, two senior Shrewsbury Council [in fact Shropshire County Council] officials, an 18 year old clerk from Newport and social workers dealing with other foster children at the Goughs. Not one of these people went upstairs to the freezing room where the boys slept on a straw pallet with one blanket. Monckton recommended some changes in Boarding Out visiting, but his report is most notable in proposing that people should simply do their jobs properly – seeing where boarded out children slept, for instance. had been expected for fifty years by then.

Burnham ends by saying Someone to Love Us should be read in conjunction with Sir Walter Monckton's report on the affair, but that this is hard to find.

You can find the Monckton Report online, but his statement that "no evidence came to my notice of any exploitation of the boys in the work of the farm" does not accord with the story Terry O'Neill tells.

Terry died in 2023. You can hear him speak in the award-winning BBC Radio Wales documentary The Mousetrap and Me.

Barry McGuire: Eve of Destruction

Back in the day, Three Wheels on My Wagon by The New Christy Minstrels was a fixture on BBC Radio's Junior Choice.,but there are some surprisingly adult things about it.

The music for the song was witten by Burt Bacharach and the lead singer was Barry McGuire, who recorded the Dylanesque Eve of Destruction in 1965. It reached the top of the US singles chart and no. 3 in the UK.

Eve of Destruction was written by P.F. Sloan, who is playing acoustic guitar on McGuire's recording. According to McGuire, this was only meant to be a demo version, but it was leaked to a DJ who started playing it and it rapidly entered the charts. So a more polished version was never recorded.

Also playing on the recording are Hal Blaine on drums and Larry Knechtel on bass guitar. They were both members of the Wrecking Crew, a loose collective of musicians based in Los Angeles whose members played on many classic Sixties hits.

And McGuire wasn't the only very Sixties artist to emerge from The New Christy Minstrels. Gene Clark of The Byrds began with them, as did Kenny Rogers, whose band New Edition initially traded in psychedelia as well as country.

"C'mon all you Cherokees, sing along with me!"

The Alan Price Set: Simon Smith and the Amazing Dancing Bear

I loved this when I was a little boy in the Sixties and I still love it now.

The trumpet player here is John Walters, who went on to become John Peel's producer at Radio 1.

The Joy of Six 1507

"These settings are not registered – as they should be by law – with Ofsted. They are meant to be temporary, but a recent report by the children’s commissioner found the average placement lasted six months – one child had been in a 'holiday camp/activity centre' for almost nine months." Alexandra Topping explains why social workers are forced to place children in unregistered homes.

Heather Stewart analyses Labour's crabwise approach to closer economic ties with the EU.

Richard Kemp condemns the snobbery behind the use of classical music to disperse groups of young people: "I have instead asked the Council and Police to support the 'In Harmony' programme of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic which is taking music playing into some of the most deprived areas of Liverpool both during the day and evening. During the day they ensure that every child in three schools gets to play a musical instrument for an hour a week for three years."

"I hope what comes across at the end is an invitation for people to consider the aspects of British culture that they want to celebrate. Albion can't be determined by me; this is a personal quest and a personal vision of the aspects of Britishness that I feel need to be celebrated. It's an invitation for people to say: "I have a stake here, and what do I want to champion?" Zakia Sewell talks to Michaela Makusha about her first book, Finding Albion.

Rob Hakimian reports on a scheme to use the Grand Union Canal to transfer water from the Midlands to London and the South East.

"I have a soft spot for Waddon (1937). Beneath garish commercial signage is a striking Modernist building which can hold its own against any inter-war Tube station." Daniel Wright takes us on a tour of the South London railway stations built between the wars to rival the striking architecture of those on the Underground.

The Joy of Six 1505

Bee Boileau, Lucas Conwell ans Peter Levell find that Help to Buy schemes don't help the people who most need it: "The affordability gains from the equity loan schemes were concentrated among higher-income individuals. Since these individuals would normally be expected to be able to save for a minimum deposit quite quickly even without Help to Buy, it is likely that these schemes accelerated their first home purchase by a few years rather than making the difference between becoming a homeowner or not in the longer term."

"Rebekah Pierre, deputy director of the charity Article 39, said ... posters advertising payments of 'up to £932 per week per child' 'stopped me in my tracks' when she encountered them in a local shopping centre." Joanne Parkes on criticism of a fostering recruitment campaign by Croydon Council, arguing that its messaging risks reducing children in care to a "price tag".

Emma John reports that some researchers say that the common framing of ADHD as a characteristic for success can be unhelpful for those who are struggling.

James Cracknell says that AI is being used to undermine real local journalism: "North London News features stories about Enfield and Barnet and other boroughs that are put together by AI bots using existing stories published on other websites, including our own. This is bad enough – but what's worse is that they are also adding fake quotes, fake people (including fake councillors), fake organisations and fake facts into these stories as well. Whatever AI system they are using, it is massively flawed."

"Several startling passages of dialogue have sent me scrolling through the week’s listings to unveil an author. Katie Hims can nail a character through their choice of confectionery: of course, the trad Jim Lloyd would go for wine gums. Nick Warburton scripted a bonkers visit by a character obsessed with train timetables and pebbles, then cleverly had one of the most stolid residents complain that the incomer was a bore." Susannah Clapp praises The Archers scriptwriters.

"In Britain hauntings occur in ancient manor houses, old inns, and Gothic asylums – places whose very age makes them groan and creak, where shadows sit deep, and which are scarred by the lingering imprint of lives lived and lost. And yet arguably the most famous British ghost story of the 20th century took place somewhere quite different: in a humble council house, only half a century old, in Enfield, north London." Ray Newman considers the haunting of social housing.

The myth that Labour's tax policies lost them the 1992 election

Why did John Major win the 1992 election when most pundits expected Neil Kinnock's Labour Party to be the victors?

Immediately after the contest, a consensus developed that the reason was the effectiveness of the Conservatives' campaign against Labour's economic policies. This view was certainly advanced by the Tories themselves, as its acceptance would make Labour more timid about challenging Thatcherite economics in future. 

And it was advanced by the head of the Tory campaign, Chris Patten, perhaps as a way of burnishing his reputation and consoling himself after he lost his own seat of Bath to the Liberal Democrats.

But I have always doubted this explanation. I remember thinking that it did not chime with what I had heard during the campaign from voters or from colleagues at work.

I recently came across an article that suggests I was right to be sceptical. In May 1994 the Independent published an article by Anthony Heath, Roger Jowell and John Curtice on the findings of their study of the 1992 election.

They go through the various explanations that had been offered for Labour's defeat and find them all wanting – notably the claim that "It's The Sun Wot Won It" made by, you guessed it, The Sun itself.

Here are Heath et al. on the suggestion that it was Labour's tax policies that had been decisive:

Labour's proposals for taxation and national insurance contributions – outlined in John Smith's 'alternative Budget' – were relentlessly attacked by the Conservatives. Faced with the prospect of a cut in their disposable income, the argument runs, voters had second thoughts about the wisdom of letting Labour in.

But our surveys find little evidence to back this argument. It arose because the polls showed a small Labour lead throughout a campaign in which taxation was one of the dominant issues and yet the Tories won. Our research, however, confirms that the pollsters had it wrong all along: they consistently underestimated the Tory vote. The Conservatives were ahead throughout the campaign. 

There was a late swing, but far too small to account for Labour's defeat. And the people who deserted Labour were not particularly averse to high taxation; rather, they seemed to have relatively little faith in Labour's ability to improve services such as health and education.

In fact, the authors find nothing in the 1992 election campaign had much of an effect on the final outcome.

I did receive intimations that there had been a late swing to the Tories. During the campaign, I'd heard stories of Liberal Democrat workers putting money on Nick Harvey gaining North Devon with a large majority, when ultimately he gained it with a small one. 

And I was told to put money on the Lib Dems in Falmouth and Camborne, because Sebastian Coe was going down very badly there. Luckily I didn't, because Coe held the seat for the Tories. He lost to Labour in 1997 and the Lib Dems finally took it in 2005.

My own theory was that voters had chosen John Major over Neil Kinnock. After Margaret Thatcher's late Sturm und Drang years, Major was a breath of fresh air. Those who only know of him as a figure of fun may be surprised at this, but if they study his statesmanlike conduct since losing power they may see why people found him attractive in 1992.

Neil Kinnock, by contrast, had been leader of the opposition for nine years. Some of the attacks on him as a "Welsh windbag" bordered on the racist, but, boy, he did talk a lot. And, burdened by cares of leadership, he had lost the wit and sparkle that had made his name as a backbench MP – notably on Jimmy Young's Radio 2 programme.

So that's why I didn't believe in 1992 that the Tories' attacks on Labour's tax policies had won them the election. And, going by Heath et al.'s study, I was right not to believe what became the received wisdom on that contest.

This question is not just of historical interest. Rachel Reeves's pledge not to increase income tax, national insurance or VAT, which has backed her into such a corner, was made because of a more or less conscious memory of 1992.

Bill Oddie: On Ilkla Moor Baht'at

Graeme Garden was singing the praises of Bill Oddie's music for I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again and The Goodies on the Through the Square Window podcast the other day. And this is a good example of how funny and accomplished it was.

The Dandelion Records label, says Dandies in the Underworld, was a labour of love run by John Peel and record company Clive Selworthy. The latter explains how the record came about:

One of the label’s most collectable singles is Bill Oddie's On Ilkley Moor Baht’at. I think I was behind that. It was another one of our jokes that nobody got. He’s a clever boy is Bill Oddie, but people thought it was a serious record, as the lyrics went unnoticed, so it disappeared without trace.

I mentioned it to John, who said he was up for it, and we managed to get most of The Grease Band, Jim Capaldi and Sue and Sally who were on the original Joe Cocker Reprise band release, and it was great. John and his producer John Walters produced it. It was a one off, and quite expensive to record, as it featured all of those amazing players. But, again, no regrets. It was worth doing and still gives us a smile.

It’s now one of the most collectable Dandelion records and was one of the records in John’s box of 50 favourite records, along with The White Stripes and Medicine Head.

The Grease Band members playing on the record are Henry McCullough (guitar) and Alan Spenner (bass).The organ player is Verden Allen from Mott the Hoople, while Jim Capaldi, of course, was the drummer from Traffic.

And the backing singers are not "Sue and Sally" but Sue and Sunny. The Wikipedia entry for Joe Cocker's album With a Little help from My Friends says Sue, Sunny, Madeline Bell and Rosetta Hightower sang on the title track, which Oddie is affectionately parodying here.

As Dandies in the Underworld also mentions Python Lee Jackson's In a Broken Dream, I'll end by sending you to my post about staying at a bed and breakfast in Bishop's Castle run by the man who overdubbed the organ on that record.

Jane: It's a Fine Day

This is the record that Opus III were sampling, covering or something between the two. Sovering, perhaps. Or campling.

Introducing interviews with Edward Barton and Jane Lancaster, who respectively wrote and sang It's a Fine Day, Bob Fischer explains:

It's a Fine Day, the acapella single written by Edward Barton and sung by Jane Lancaster, is both haunting and enchanting in equal measure. Turned into a daytime Radio 1 staple after evening plays from – inevitably – John Peel, it later became the sampled source material for a deluge of 1990s dance hits: including the Pete Waterman-backed Opus III, who took it into the Top 5, and Kylie Minogue, whose 1994 No 2 hit Confide In Me incorporated sizeable chunks of the melody.

Edward would later claim the only section of the song not to have been sampled is the concluding line: "We will have salad".