Barlow and Watt investigate Jack the Ripper

Last night I watched the film Murder by Decree on Talking Pictures TV. I've watched it several times because the cast and premise (Sherlock Holmes tracking down Jack the Ripper) are so appealing, and because I always forget how disappointing it is.

But Holmes was the not first fictional detective to investigate the Ripper murders. In 1973 the BBC screened a series in which the nation's most celebrated television detectives Charlie Barlow and John Watt, played by Stratford Johns and Frank Windsor.

It was this series that introduced the public to the theory that the Ripper had been the eldest son of the future Edward VII, Prince Albert Victor. Stephen Knight did not publish his book Jack the Ripper: The Final Solution until 1976.

The 1973 television series avoided turning these terrible murders into a parlour game – Martin Crookall describes its approach well:

The format is simple, level-headed and unmelodramatic. On one level, Barlow and Watt move around a contemporary investigation room, surrounded by books, copies of newspapers, such documentary evidence as there is, and reconstruct the five canonical murders in chronological order. 

They don’t dramatise things, they talk like senior Detectives sifting evidence, looking for similarities and anomalies, testing the weight of the evidence against their professional experience, building up a picture of the time, the place, the people and the events, as fairly and neutrally as they can. Naturally, they talk as the characters they are playing, indulging in a never belaboured degree of the banter and cynicism of the veterans they are. 

Interspersed with this is the reconstruction. Intelligently, and in keeping with the series’ aim to be as factual and complete as possible, these eschew any reconstruction of the killings themselves and lapse into drama only once, showing fourth victim Catherine Eddowes being released from police cells after sobering up, only to be murdered within thirty minutes. She’s the only one of the five victims to actually be depicted in persona.

I'm writing this post because the whole series has reappeared on YouTube – it has a history of coming and going there.

The clip I have chosen above comes from the sixth and final episode. In it Joseph Gorman sets out the meat of the theory and claims that he is the illegitimate son of Walter Sickert. I don't believe a word of it, and Wikipedia says he later admitted his story was a fiction, but it doesn't give a source for this. Elwyn Jones, one of the writers of this series, was introduced to him when he told one of his police contacts that he was doing a series on Jack the Ripper.

Finally, a moan and then my Trivial Fact of the Day.

The moan is that when the Rest is History tackled the Ripper story, it said that Barlow and Watt were still in Z-Cars in 1973. In fact, they had left the show as long ago as 1965 to appear in Softly, Softly and then Softly, Softly: Task Force. By 1973 Barlow had a series of his own, Barlow at Large.

And my Trivial Fact of the Day? It's that Jack Warner's daughter in the often misremembered Dixon of Dock Green was first played by Billie Whitelaw.

The Joy of Six 1478

"In a sense, Clegg is right: politicians are more focused on narratives than data. But it’s data they use to justify their policies these days. Indeed, far from modern politics being a vibrant competition of ideas in the way Clegg suggests, modern anglophone politics has been dominated by just one since the 1980s: There Is No Alternative." James Graham takes apart Nick Clegg's book How to Save the Internet.

Sam Bright is puzzled by the contradictions of right-wing journalists: "These journalists are neoliberals – they preach the free market gospel. You can’t get them to shut up about the Industrial Revolution and how deregulated enterprise supposedly birthed Britain as an economic superpower. And yet they’re stuck in the Middle Ages – terrified of the advances in science and engineering that also spawned from their favourite period of history."

"Trade unions are civil society organisations. They give working people a way to voice their concerns, secure representation, and exercise lawful leverage. In a country where bargaining is often fragmented and workplace voice is weak, that is not a threat to liberalism; it is a condition of it." Jack Meredith states the Liberal case for the government's Employment Rights Act,

Tracey Spensley on veterinary medicines and the decline of Britain's songbirds.

Darren Chetty looks at the current BBC adaptation of Lord of the Flies: "The decision to include a diverse cast, including the excellent Winston Sawyers who plays Ralph, will probably be viewed by many as a progressive move, ensuring that not only white actors are offered roles and not only white people are represented on screen. But for all its progressive aspirations, an adaptation like this obscures some of the most interesting themes discernible in the book."

"Barrie was always ageless, with a kind of supernatural vibe about him that makes me think perhaps he wasn’t quite of this world. And in a way, he wasn’t: he belonged to a London long vanished, full of glamour and promise. Did Barrie disappear along with it?" Melissa Blaise searches for a Chelsea socialite she once knew.

Golders Green: A milestone in the history of the tube and suburbia

Jago Hazzard sets out the history of Golders Green station, and tells us about the history of the London Underground and of London suburbia in the process.

You can support Jago's videos via his Patreon page. And why not subscribe to his YouTube channel?

The Joy of Six 1474

Jessica Valenti sounds the alarm about the Heritage Foundation's plan for American women: "Like the conservative movement more broadly, the organisation wants young women to believe this is all being done for their benefit: that work is soulless and unfulfilling, that feminism has made women miserable, and that the real path to happiness is being a stay-at-home mom. The latest right-wing mantra for women? 'Less burnout, more babies.'"

The government’s proposed model for mandatory reporting of suspected child sexual abuse bears no resemblance to the frameworks used in the 82 per cent of countries that have enacted such legislation, argues Tom Perry.

Jonathan Cook believes the jury was right to acquit the Palestine Action defendants.

"It was the only post-war building on London’s South Bank to remain unlisted, refused protection on six separate occasions by successive culture secretaries, who since 1991 had repeatedly rejected Historic England’s (formerly English Heritage) recommendations." Richard Waite on the Listing of the South Bank Centre – that's the Queen Elizabeth Hall, Purcell Room, Hayward Gallery and their associated terraced walkways and stairs – after 35 years of refusals.

"The shifting appeal of The West Wing during the past quarter century raises a sobering question: Is political competence and an idealized respect for democratic norms losing popularity in 2026?" Karrin Vasby Anderson and Nick Marx track the political drama's move from bipartisan hit to a polarised comfort watch.

Mansel Stimpson enjoyed Nouvelle Vague as I much as I did: "The casting ... which uses mainly relatively unfamiliar faces is one of the film's great successes. It is quite easy to accept Guillaume Marbeck as Godard and Aubry Dullin catches the essence of the young Jean-Paul Belmondo. Even more surprisingly given that Breathless contains an iconic performance by Jean Seberg, we find this film’s best-known name, Zoey Deutch, creating a Seberg in whom we really do believe."

The railway comes to Camden: Happy birthday Charles Dickens

It's Charles Dickens' birthday. He was born on 7 February 1812 in Portsmouth – you can visit the house where he was born.

To celebrate the day, here is his description of the effect the building of the London to Birmingham railway had on Camden:

The first shock of a great earthquake had, just at that period, rent the whole neighbourhood to its centre. Traces of its course were visible on every side. Houses were knocked down; streets broken through and stopped; deep pits and trenches dug in the ground; enormous heaps of earth and clay thrown up; buildings that were undermined and shaking, propped by great beams of wood. 

Here, a chaos of carts, overthrown and jumbled together, lay topsy-turvy at the bottom of a steep unnatural hill; there, confused treasures of iron soaked and rusted in something that had accidentally become a pond. Everywhere were bridges that led nowhere; thoroughfares that were wholly impassable; Babel towers of chimneys, wanting half their height; temporary wooden houses and enclosures, in the most unlikely situations; carcases of ragged tenements, and fragments of unfinished walls and arches, and piles of scaffolding, and wildernesses of bricks, and giant forms of cranes, and tripods straddling above nothing. 

There were a hundred thousand shapes and substances of incompleteness, wildly mingled out of their places, upside down, burrowing in the earth, aspiring in the air, mouldering in the water, and unintelligible as any dream. Hot springs and fiery eruptions, the usual attendants upon earthquakes, lent their contributions of confusion to the scene. Boiling water hissed and heaved within dilapidated walls; whence, also, the glare and roar of flames came issuing forth; and mounds of ashes blocked up rights of way, and wholly changed the law and custom of the neighbourhood.

This is all one paragraph in Dombey and Son, but I feel sure that Dickens would use shorter ones if he were writing a blog post.

Dixon of Dock Green: "It's not jolly – in fact it's unremittingly grim"

Embed from Getty Images

Dixon of Dock Green does not deserve its reputation for cosiness. I wrote to that effect three years ago, but Tim Dowling was there long before me.

Here he is choosing a box set of the police drama back in 2012:

The stories are as gritty as anything you would find in The Bill, and happy outcomes are rare. In the little monologues that top and tail each programme, Dixon is likely to tell you the suspect was never convicted due to a lack of evidence, or that a wife-beater escaped punishment because the police were powerless to intervene. 

It's not jolly – in fact it's unremittingly grim. Bodies turn up in slag heaps. Depressed coppers kill themselves, and no one dares say so. "The coroner's verdict was death by misadventure," says Dixon, "and none of us would quarrel with that."

The Joy of Six 1471

"Without doubt, information provided during the height of the global financial crisis by a senior Member of the British Government, will have been operationally beneficial to a hedge fund manager, international financier and broker like Jeffrey Epstein. Without doubt, Mandelson will have known this when he was sending this information." Gareth Roberts makes the case for charging Peter Mandelson with misconduct in public office.

Catherine Barnard and Denzil Davidson ask if Greenland can join the European Union: "Whether Greenlanders decide that it should be attempted, and how such an attempt would be received in Washington, will be an important question for the geopolitics of the High North and the EU’s role in it."

Laura Laker on the battles over Haringey's delivery of one of the largest simultaneous rollouts of Low Traffic Neighbourhood zones in London, and of 36 school streets covering 44 schools.

"The full origins of Epstein’s wealth remain shrouded in mystery, but what is clear, according to Forbes' review of court filings, an investigative memo and financial records, is that Epstein relied above all on two billionaire clients and a tax gimmick to build his fortune." How did Jeffrey Epstein get so rich? Giacomo Tognini and John Hyatt investigate.

John Mullan sings the praises of Dombey and Son: "Like all great Dickens novels it has really satisfying baddies. Major 'Joe' Bagstock, one of those who predates on the loftily oblivious Mr Dombey, is a sinister, blue-faced old soldier with the disconcerting habit of talking of himself in the third person to an invisible confidante. 'He's hard-hearted, Sir, is Joe – he's tough, Sir, tough, and de-vilish sly!'"

"I don’t know the Lake District very well, but back in 2015 I went to see the last Golden Eagle that lived alone on the dark crags above Haweswater Reservoir. At the time, I didn’t realise how lucky I was to watch it soar above me, because by 2016 it had gone, presumed dead somewhere in the mountains and thus ending the history of breeding Golden Eagles in England." Mary Colwell on Lee Schofield and his book Wild Fell.

The Joy of Six 1470

Timothy Snyder reports from a frightened city: "In the schools and churches of Springfield, Ohio, people are making hasty preparations for a “large deportation” promised by the president. To all appearances, and according to local sources, the city is two or three days away from a federal ethnic cleansing, grounded in a hate campaign organized by the vice-president and American Nazis. The destined victims are ten thousand or more Haitians."

"I think the way he is trying to interfere with our democracy, generally our country, is quite outrageous. For the richest man to come here with his totally unfounded and ignorant comments is shocking." Interviewed by Big Issue, Ed Davey sticks it to Elon Musk.

"The use of armed militia to terrorise the inhabitants of Minneapolis is not just beyond the rule of law, it is fascistic. It’s the final evidential point between what is happening today and the political forces that ripped Europe apart in the last century: and that’s not just me saying this, it’s some of the most eminent historians of authoritarianism." Carole Cadwalladr says what’s happening in the US is technofascism and it could happen here.

Madeleine Brettingham on the difficulty of making a living as a writer today: "The biggest revolution in how writing is distributed since the printing press has decimated all our assumptions about how creative careers work. Somewhere between the noughties and the pandemic everything changed, leaving many (including me) attempting to climb up ladders that no longer exist."

Norma Clarke reviews a book on working-class lives in Charlie Chaplin's London: "Charlie was a gutter child, a 'street arab' in the language of the time: undersized, skinny, his bright eyes on the main chance as he roamed up and down between Kennington and New Cut, where market stalls overflowed with produce he had no money to buy and probably became adept at stealing."

Did a tsunami hit the Bristol Channel four centuries ago? Simon Haslett revisits the great flood of 1607.

The glorious story of Shacklewell and De Beauvoir Town

Another walk with John Rogers:

This East London walk takes is into the surprising hidden corners of the London Borough of Hackney. Our urban stroll explores the historic areas of Shacklewell and De Beauvoir Town, both with rich and fascinating histories. Starting on Mare Street we follow Amhurst Road to Shacklewell Lane and the site of Shacklewell House which had been an important country house from at least the 16th century. 

We then take a look at the Somerford Grove Estate designed by Frederick Gibberd in the late 1940s and winner of a prize at the Festival of Britain of 1951. Crossing Kingsland Road we then wander the streets of one of London's most beguiling hidden neighbourhoods, De Beauvoir Town. Developed in the 1830s this Victorian area was saved from demolition in the 1960s and remains one of London's true hidden gems.

It didn't make this YouTube blurb, but towards the end we also see the home of the Hackney Mole Man, who was made famous by Iain Sinclair.

John Rogers has a Patreon account to support his videos and he blogs at The Lost Byway.

An appreciation of It Always Rains on Sunday

Ealing Studios didn't just make comedies, and the drama It Always Rains on Sunday from 1947 is among their very best films.

As the blurb for this short video from the British Film Institute says:

It Always Rains on Sunday is a dark and dramatic tale set in bombed-damaged East London. The third film for Ealing by director Robert Hamer – better known for the later Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) – it takes place over one wet Sunday, and centres on the Sandigates – in particular Rose, played by Googie Withers, a housewife caught between her stable but loveless marriage and Tommy, a charismatic lover from her past (played by Withers' soon-to-be husband, John McCallum.)

It's a great ensemble cast, but I would single out Susan Shaw and Patricia Plunkett, who play Googie Withers' stepdaughters, and Jack Warner, whose wisecracking detective sergeant is a long way from George Dixon and reminds us of his range as an actor.

The 19th-century granite trackway along Commercial Road

Commercial Road was constructed at the beginning of the 19th century to connect London's docks with the City.

As Jago Hazzard explains in this video, a smooth granite trackway was constructed along the road in 1828 or thereabouts to speed the flow of goods away from the docks.

When the trackway was taken up is even less clear, but in 1840 a conventional railway that ran parallel to Commercial Road was opened, reducing the need for it. The road, which was opened as a privately owned toll road, was taken into public ownership in the 1860s.

You can support Jago's videos via his Patreon page. And why not subscribe to his YouTube channel? I know I do.

Nora Brown and Stephanie Coleman: The Very Day I'm Gone

BBC Radio 3's Late Junction is a treasure, so of course the station's controllers can't stop cutting it. It once ran for two hours, three time a week: now it's only 90 minutes and only on Fridays.

As Wikipedia says:

The programme has a wide musical scope. It is not uncommon to hear medieval ballads juxtaposed with 21st-century electronica, or jazz followed by international folk music followed by an ambient track.

It was on Late Junction that I heard Carl Orff's Trees and Flowers, which is surely taken from the soundtrack of a lost folk horror classic. 

And I remember hearing Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa by something called Vampire Weekend. I thought I'd discovered an obscure band to feature here one Sunday, but on further investigation they proved to be about the trendiest band in the world at that time. (Normally, of course, I'm down with the kids.)

Which brings us to Nora Brown and Steph Coleman, who I heard on Late Junction the other week. Their billing for a gig at The Harrison – a pub near St Pancras where I've been known to meet Liberator friends – in 2023 explains:

First brought together by Brooklyn’s tight-knit old-time music community in 2017, Nora Brown and Stephanie Coleman share a rich musical partnership that belies their 20 year age difference. Nora is a banjo player, and has released 3 albums on Brooklyn based Jalopy Records. She has performed across the US, Europe and Japan including NPR’s Tiny Desk and TED EDU. 

Stephanie is a master old-time fiddler, having recorded with and toured internationally over the last two decades with celebrated artists such as trailblazing all-women stringband Uncle Earl, Watchhouse’s Andrew Marlin, and clawhammer banjo virtuoso Adam Hurt. 

Nora and Stephanie recorded together on Nora’s debut album Cinnamon Tree, and have performed as a duo at such renowned festivals as the Philadelphia Folk Festival and the Trans-Pecos Festival in Marfa, TX, and are looking forward to performing at major festivals in Canada and Europe in the coming year including the Winnipeg Folk Festival and the Roskilde Festival in Copenhagen.

I like The Very Day I'm Gone, though I suspect it's best listened to in the late evening.

The abandoned lead mine in Crystal Palace Park

Photo by Jacqueline Banerjee

Like W.H. Auden, I have a thing about abandoned lead mines. So I was intrigued to learn that there is one in Crystal Palace Park.

Subterranea Briannica explains:

It is well known that Crystal Palace Park includes a number of Victorian dinosaur models, arranged in groups around the lower lake. Many of these species were recently discovered although not all the models are nowadays thought to be strictly accurate. Less well known is that alongside these animals there is a replica geological strata.

This was built at the same time as an educational feature and was constructed from the true strata it was based on from Ashover in Derbyshire. Coal measures, limestone and millstone grit are part of the reconstruction. In addition, a 3/4 scale lead mine was constructed behind the face in carboniferous limestone; in the 19th century visitors could tour the mine. Inside they would find stalactites and lead ore veins.

The mine, along with the geological strata, is now grade I listed alongside the dinosaurs. No access is possible at it is allegedly unsafe (although the local authority responsible for the site was initially unaware of its existence when enquiries were made).

The Victorian Web also has an article on this feature, from which I have taken the photograph above.

Following the River Westbourne from Kilburn to Chelsea

It's time for another walk with John Rogers, and it's one of the kind I enjoy the most: a walk that follows one of London's lost rivers.

John describes it in his YouTube blurb as a:

walking tour of London’s lost river Westbourne from Kilburn to Chelsea via Maida Vale, Paddington, Bayswater, Knightsbridge, and Belgravia. The Westbourne is one of London’s most celebrated lost rivers and wasn’t fully buried until the mid-1800s. Consequently its course is very well documented and is famously carried over Sloane Square tube station in a pipe that can be seen from the platform.

John has a Patreon account to support his videos and he blogs at The Lost Byway. 

How Joan Littlewood changed Sheila Hancock's life

My interest in Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop at Stratford East and obsession with the original London production of Sweeney Todd meet in this video.

And it's all true. Here's R.B. Marriott reviewing the first West End performance of Make Me An Offer for The Stage (24 December 1959): 

Sheila Hancock, who originally made a personal hit in the production, repeats her success, and on the first night stopped the show with her singing of "It's Sort of Romantic". 

Miss Hancock is now unlikely to be in need of work in the theatre, but I hope that her originality, talent and personality will eventually be given far wider scope, not only in "suitable" supporting parts but in leading ones, for which undoubtedly she is equipped. 

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd

I posted a video of the South Bank Show film on the staging of Sweeney Todd a few days ago and have been obsessed with Stephen Sondheim's musical ever since. I didn't see Sweeney in 1980, but I have strong memories of watching that film about that production, with the result that I cannot quite accept anyone but Denis Quilley and Sheila Hancock in the lead roles.

Someone has made the video above by pulling out some of the scenes of the finished show from the film, and if you are as obsessed as me you will want to listen to the audio recording of the whole of the closing performance of that first London production.

The closing performance came after four months, and a lot of money was lost. It was an expensive production, including a full orchestra, and the Theatre Royal Drury Lane was a huge venue to fill.

Stephen Sondheim was not then, at least in Britain, the acknowledged master of musical theatre that he became. Side by Side by Sondheim had recently been a success in the West End, but it was a revue and had been staged in a theatre less the half the size of Drury Lane. Nor was Sweeney Todd's subject matter calculated to bring the coach parties in.

But it was the lukewarm response of the critics that got most of the blame - you can hear Quilley mention them in his brief speech at the end of the audio recording. And even in the ecstatic response of Michael Billington, you can make out the factors that helped keep the crowds away:

Sweeney Todd is the reversal of everything we traditionally expect of a musical. It has a powerful and gripping story, hardly a single extractable tune, a fierce sense of social justice. Yet, after seeing it on Broadway 18 months ago and now at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, I would call it sensationally effective. 

Indeed, burning a boat or two, I would say it is one of the two (My Fair Lady being the other) durable works of popular musical theatre in my lifetime.

Even if that was going it a little, he was a better predictor than most of his colleagues. Sweeney Todd is now accepted as a stone cold classic.

A true story?

In one of his few narrator's incursions into the South Bank Show film, Melvyn Bragg says that the legend of Sweeney Todd is based on a true story that happened in Paris around 1800 and first appeared in print in Britain in 1846.

But The Singing Organ-Grinder has found a version of the legend that sets it in 17th-century Calais. And Charles Dickens assumes in Martin Chuzzlewit (1843-4) that his readers will know and smile at stories of people being turned into pies in London:

Tom's evil genius did not lead him into the dens of any of those preparers of cannibalic pastry, who are represented in many standard country legends as doing a lively retail business in the Metropolis.

So I suspect that Sweeney Todd and his Continental equivalents are urban legends with a long history.

Not the first musical

Searching the British Newspaper Archive, I discovered that Sondheim's was not the first musical about Sweeney Todd to be staged in London. In 1959, a musical called The Demon Barber was staged at the Lyric, Hammersmith.

The Stage didn't much like it:

A pompous introduction to the programme of "The Demon Barber," at the Lyric, Hammersmith, states that this new musical has roots which "reach to 'The Beggar's Opera', the music hall, and D'Oyley (sic) Carte". Be that as it may, the result is a feeble adaptation as a musical of the Sweeney Todd story, the blood and thunder gone and replaced by burlesque which flies wide of its mark.

It seems no one else much liked it either, as a member of cast recalls:

My first theatre job in London was in 1959 at the Lyric Hammersmith. I was Jonas Fogg the madhouse keeper (who else?) in Donald Cotton and Brian Burke’s The Demon Barber. It was quite an elaborate little musical about Sweeney Todd which Stephen Sondheim had never heard of. Sondheim didn’t know of this version when he composed the 1979 musical/opera Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

It closed on Christmas Eve after 14 performances. Not very long after, this exquisite theatre was demolished at a time when borough councils felt it was their duty to continue the work of Reichsmarschall Goering in the destruction of London. They brought a new ferocity to the task, and many of London’s theatres that had survived the Blitz were gleefully pulverised by the advocates of Progress.

The Lyric was cynically reconstituted, but it was never the same.

The writer is Barry Humphries. At least the swift demise of The Demon Barber left him free to appear in Oliver! the following July.

Don't worry. I'll have found a new rabbit hole soon.

Dennis Mallard: The boy who ran away to Ealing to be a film star

If an American child dreamed of being a star, they would run away to Hollywood. In the Britain of 1958, children had to make do with Ealing.

Here's a story from the Chatham, Rochester and Brompton Observer for 17 January of that year that came up when I was searching for something else:

The boy who ran away to be a film star 

His adventure proves to be far from glamorous

Twelve years old Dennis Mallard, who appears very briefly in the new Harry Secombe film "Davy," thought his film career was not developing fast enough. 

He ran away from home on Monday night, aiming to get to a film studio.

While his family thought he was asleep in bed, he was trudging through the cold night wearing only jeans, shirt and blazer, to Dartford, six miles from his home, 119, Milton Road, Gravesend. 

There he hid in the back of a lorry which took him to London. 

He stowed away on another lorry and found himself in Ealing.

Then the glamour of finding the limelight the hard way wore a bit thin and he became frightened. 

He went to a church for help and a clergyman informed the police.

But that was not the end of Dennis Mallard.

I can't find any mention of him having appeared in Davy, which was one of the long tail of inferior Ealing comedies and designed as a star vehicle for Harry Secombe. 

But I have found a page that has him making an uncredited appearance in a Children's Film Foundation production, One Wish Too Many, as early as 1956. 

And the British Film Foundation has him making a similarly unacknowledged appearance in The Violent Playground later in 1958. As this film's premiere was in March 1958, it must (as Flashbak suggests) have been filmed in 1957, before the boy ran away to Ealing.

So it looks as though young Dennis Mallard was already appearing in films by the time he ran away, but as nothing more than an extra.

Researching him is difficult because he does not have an IMDb entry, so I was pleased to find that the British Film Institute has a page for the 1959 BBC adaption of Great Expectations, which lists him as having played Pip, along with the slightly older Colin Spaull and much older Dinsdale Landen.

Yet a clip of the young Pip encountering Magwich in the churchyard from this serial looks nothing like the photo of Dennis Mallard in the local newspaper report that sent me down this rabbit hole. And, sure enough, IMDb has a photo of the encounter, with the boy playing Pip named as Colin Spaull. As this scene is as young as Pip gets in the book, what did Dennis Mallard do?

The answer is on BBC Genome, where he is billed as playing Pip Gargery. Over to Dickens, and the scene thee a sadder and wiser adult Pip returns to the forge, only to find that Biddy, who he has resolved to marry, has wed Joe Gargery:

There, smoking his pipe in the old place by the kitchen firelight, as hale and as strong as ever, though a little grey, sat Joe; and there, fenced into the corner with Joe’s leg, and sitting on my own little stool looking at the fire, was – I again!

"We giv' him the name of Pip for your sake, dear old chap," said Joe, delighted, when I took another stool by the child’s side (but I did not rumple his hair), "and we hoped he might grow a little bit like you, and we think he do."

And if you think Dennis was too old to play this part, he's not. Because Nostalgia Central helpfully tells us:

One major narrative change has Joe Gargery’s proposed marriage to his housekeeper Biddy taking place before Pip goes to London (this revelation occurs much later in the novel and is the last nail in the coffin of Pip’s disillusionment as he was planning to marry Biddy himself).

Let's cut to the chase. Here's a report from the Kent Evening Post for 27 June 1975:

Few people meeting the quiet and unassuming Dennis Mallard at his Leysdown china shop would ever dream of his past. For the man who compared last night's Evening Post search-for-a- star show was once a star of stage and screen himself. 

Dennis. now married and a father of three living in Poplar Avenue, Gravesend, started his carcer at the age of five. 

He went to stage school at Upton Park till he was 11 when he landed his first mal part in a BBC production of Great Expectations. 

After numerous theatre and TV appearances in plays and adverts he landed his own ITV show in which Una Stubbs (remember her as the screen daughter of Alf Garnett in Till Death Us Do Part) was a dancer. 

That was all in the days of early commercial TV – and before Dennis’ 16th birthday. 

"Then I for some reason felt I'd had enough of showbusiness and decided to try and make some money instead. 

"I thought being a market trader was next best thing and began selling china." 

He still keeps his hand in however by doing occasional compering slots and has accepted an invitation to be MC at all the talent competition evenings.

I've not so far found any trace of his ITV series or of an ITV adaption of A Christmas Carol starring Stephen Murray as Scrooge in which he is said to have appeared. But the upturn in his career does seem to have happened soon after he ran away to Ealing.

And there is one thing we know he was doing in 1960: he was in the first performance of Oliver! as a workhouse boy and member of Fagin's gang. Because his name is on the credits for the original cast recording.

Take it away boys...

Guerilla guardianship on the River Roding

 Here's the YouTube blurb for this film:

The Roding is London’s largest forgotten river. Out on the eastern fringe of the city, it endures every modern indignity: scythed by motorways and concrete bridges; choked with sewage and rubbish; canalised, fly-tipped, retail-parked, thickened with the polluted slime of London clay. It is a forbidding place to call home. 

Yet in 2017 that is what the environmental barrister, Paul Powlesland, set out to do. Embarking on a hair-raising journey up the Thames on a tiny narrowboat (his propeller nearly fell off on route) he made it to the mouth of the Roding, chugging upstream to anchor among the reeds. His mission: to protect the river and speak for its rights. The River Roding Trust was born. 

Seven years later Right to Roam visited the Roding to team up with Paul and the Trust to highlight this incredible story of guerrilla guardianship. Alongside the local community we planted trees, created hibernacula for reptiles and amphibians and tackled the endless crust of rubbish washed in by the tide.

We believe that access to land and water is about more than just recreation. Instead it can be the start of a new relationship with nature, where we connect in order to protect. A concept we call Wild Service.

Yet currently only 8 per cent of land in England has a "right to roam" and only 3 per cent of rivers enjoy an uncontested right of access – a major obstacle to community guardianship. We’re campaigning for that to change.

If you're interested in these issues, you may enjoy The Book of Trespass by Nick Hayes.

The Joy of Six 1450

"Millions of teenagers would lose the freedom to enjoy games and social interaction in the name of 'safety'. Even complaining on family WhatsApp would be impossible, as they would be banned from that too. Such a restriction would severely impact not just young people’s ability to play games or socialise, but also access support services, or engage in or discuss political content or ideas." James Baker argues that Liberal Democrats should not support Baroness Benjamin's amendments to the Children’s Wellbeing and Schools Bill.

Sophia Alexandra Hall explains why care leavers need better access to childhood records: "Among the papers was a photocopy of a photograph of Jackie and her sister. The council initially refused to give her the original, saying it belonged to them. She persisted. When she finally received it, she discovered a date and time written on the back. Those details had never appeared in the copy."

Anglican Ink has an anonymous post by an anonymous retired Church of England that paints an unflattering portrait of the young Justin Welby.

We hear a lot about making cities child friendly, but Max Western and Afroditi Stathi remind us that the modern urban landscape isn't kind to old people either.

"The public story of Google Maps is that it passively reflects 'what people like'. More stars, more reviews, better food. But that framing obscures how the platform actually operates. Google Maps is not just indexing demand – it is actively organising it through a ranking system built on a small number of core signals that Google itself has publicly acknowledged: relevance, distance, and prominence." Lauren Leek on how Google Maps quietly allocates survival across London’s restaurants and how she built a dashboard to see through it.

Scott Shea chooses six songs that tell the story of Sam Cooke.

Lib Dems beat Labour on penalties in Camden

On Friday evening Camden Liberal Democrat councillors and campaigners took on their Labour counterparts at football. At full time the scores were level at 6-6, but the Lib Dems won on penalties to repeat their victory from last year.

Richard Osley, our man on the press box with a mug of Bovril, reports for the Camden New Journal:

As usual when these two teams meet, it was not a match light on controversy.

The Lib Dems say a late equaliser by Labour housing chief Sagal Abdi-Wali to make the scoreline 6-6 was netted in "Eddie time". Mayor of Camden Eddie Hanson had been in charge of the stopwatch.

But the yellow team’s complaints died down when they promptly won a penalty shootout to take the bragging rights – just four and half months before the local elections.

Labour only scored one of their penalties with hot-shot captain Camron Aref-Adib among the missers.

The match was played to encourage donations to the New Journal’s Christmas Hamper appeal.