Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 72,327
You'll not be disappointed with that writing style thecavern. Intriguing. Keep it coming
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WSF. The Origins Of Casuals In Brighton.
- Thread starter thecavern
- Start date
You'll not be disappointed with that writing style thecavern. Intriguing. Keep it coming
raymondbriggs
New member
No you just want to carry on spouting shit.I hardly missed a game in the 80's and yes millwall often took the piss.But if some clown had been shouting your disgusting nickname I am sure palace would have made a better fist of it.Another thing millwall never waited till half time to clear the holmesdale.
pity you cant read though,clearly I was talking about a game in the 70's.
not my fault you are a schoolboy.
Spanish Seagulls
Well-known member
Now, now, seems all this reminiscing is bringing out the old latent hooligan in a few of you, maybe sparking a reenactment or two.
Good work Cavern, well written.
Good work Cavern, well written.
FalmerforAll!**
NSC's Most Intelligent
This is a superb read, really interesting to read about the 70s/80s, especially for people as young as myself who can genuinely struggle to get their heads round just how different things actually were back then! Love the detail on the casualwear, I've recently had a spree on the vintage shops in Sydney Street, alot of Fila, Sergio, Lacoste (and it really is oldschool) etc. Got myself a nice Adidas Originals track top for a mere £25.
Looking forward to the next installment!
Looking forward to the next installment!
I went then as well .Try again.I also saw your outfit win 4-1 at the old den in about 1978 or so.You had no fans then either.
Dr. Notthenineo'clocknews
Remainer
I went then as well .Try again.I also saw your outfit win 4-1 at the old den in about 1978 or so.You had no fans then either.
that's true actually we did have no fans there, we all decided it would be more enjoyable watching Sussex win the Gillette cup at Lords that very day #bad fans!#
I congratulate you on your memory and the win.
Dr. Notthenineo'clocknews
Remainer
thank you sir
Shropshire Seagull
Well-known member
Mine got nicked from my school locker [Longhill] in 1974. Grrrr - name and shame him (her?) if you can.
Caveman
Well-known member
- Jul 14, 2003
- 9,926
Mine got nicked from my school locker [Longhill] in 1974. Grrrr - name and shame him (her?) if you can.
ArfurW8 lost property services.
looney
Banned
- Jul 7, 2003
- 15,652
26-10-02 Is that your date of birth.
A lot of nostalga here with no doubt some selective memories. I heard th WSF got turned over by a load of psycobillies in Brighton?
Needless to say these tales although brimmed with nostalga are more tragic than heroic, football hooliganism is RETARDED. I am neither proud or ashamed of my antics, the past is another country and with age does come a bit of wisdom.
But boy was it one hell of a f***ing buzz...
A lot of nostalga here with no doubt some selective memories. I heard th WSF got turned over by a load of psycobillies in Brighton?
Needless to say these tales although brimmed with nostalga are more tragic than heroic, football hooliganism is RETARDED. I am neither proud or ashamed of my antics, the past is another country and with age does come a bit of wisdom.
But boy was it one hell of a f***ing buzz...
rebirth
1066 seagull
New member
I haven't viewed North Stand Chat for ages but a friend sent me the link to this thread, explaining it 'may be of interest'. Indeed, top marks to The Cavern - the early background info (re: bopping at the Astoria) made me chuckle. And references to M S dropping his trousers at every opportunity brought back some hazy memories. The molotov cocktail incident I will never forget - earlier that eve one of the Hollingdean Boys asked me to join them "Errr, maybe later..." I muttered. I think that incident was the beginning of the end with my flirtation with 'casual culture'
User removed 4
New member
1974? I think you're a little out on the timeline mate.Mine got nicked from my school locker [Longhill] in 1974. Grrrr - name and shame him (her?) if you can.
- Thread starter
- #238
For young Brightonians raised on the relatively chic and polished Brighton of today, a trip back 28 years would clearly represent quite a culture shock, especially in terms of Nightlife.
Brighton in that era could still boast clubs called Night Fever and pubs named Shades, relics of a decade before.
Amusement arcades were full of early black and white videogames like Defender and Asteroids.
But for the young gunslingers around West Street, of greater interest were the Fruit machines.
Having worked out that a coiled up length of nylon fishing line could be jiggled about in the coin slot racking up endless free-plays, the machines were being systematically relieved of their takings.
In addition many lads walked about with sheets of paper with drawings of the running order on each reel. When the nudge feature lit good payouts were a formality. In fact the only gamble was getting caught in flagrante.
At one stage there were so many empty machines people were taking the train along to Worthing to maintain the cash flow. The poor one-armed bandits didn’t stand a chance.
The talk of the town (well some of it) was the upcoming visit from Tottenham.
Fine details were being ground out ad-nauseum over pints of Fosters or bottles of Grolsch . In those days the meeting place was The Cavern in Ship Street.
Usually after 7pm the doorman would be Dave, an amiable bloke who ended up managing the whole place. He knew all the faces and when he became the Manager he would often give you a Pint on the House.
Once inside the décor was that Maroon wallpaper, nicotined ceilings and Dralon, once standard fare in pubs, hinting vainly at elegance.
There was a long bar running ahead on your right with smoked glass Mirrors and big brass pumps. Along the left were wooden tables.
For ages I remember, there was a resident graphologist or handwriting expert. He was a chain smoking alcoholic who pretended to unlock the secrets encoded in people’s handwriting. He had all these documents pinned to the wall purporting to show famous celebrities he’d ‘done’ like Joan Collins or Sid James. I don’t know what the arrangement was but he had his own desk.
Anyway, pass this bloke (everybody did) and you had two options; one door opened on to a lounge type area with an open fire, a couple of fruit machines and Pool tables , the other door led down some stairs to the toilets and the basement bar.
When I first got into this dark and dingy basement as a Schoolboy I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Me and my mate used to buy a Stones Ginger Wine (pretending it was whiskey) and small Old Port Cigars, then we’d sit back in a dark recess people watching.
A regular fixture downstairs was a transsexual called Bibi aged about 30. He/she used to stand at the bar giving all the young fellas the glad eye. Once she’d had a drink , she would lift up her blouse and flash these massive boobs at everyone. I always used to use the opposite end of the bar out of the way, but I’m sure one or two lads went home with her out of curiosity, not that they would admit it.
I know there was drug use going on, but It was all red leb and amyl nitrate . It used to stink to high heaven.. You could feel your head thumping from the fumes and have to go outside for a breather.
In those days deejays used to keep talking between records, giving people the shout out as they came in. King Jerry was synonymous with The Cavern, a local legend still going strong today. The Cavern was known as a good place to meet Sorts. All you had to do was watch who was getting a bit Bryan Ferry (Merry). I met a lovely blonde girl one night Juliet Busby from Queens Park. I found out later she had been killed in a tragic car crash on the road leading to the Devil’s Dyke days later. She was 17.
This basement held about two hundred maximum I suppose but at that time you would pretty much know everyone. As a result it rarely kicked off and if it did, it was usually some hapless drunk who didn’t know what he’d walked into.
So this weekend Brighton were playing Tottenham at home. People had spoken about little else for weeks. Quite a few supported London teams and went up to the Lane or the Den and knew their boys. But this was different, in these games you nailed your colours to the mast and for that weekend you were most definitely Brighton.
Tottenham were rumoured to be coming down on the Friday Night and there was a huge turnout inside the Cavern. The streets around the ‘town’ centre
(Which it still was In those days not yet attaining City status) were relatively clear of OB with an occasional meat wagon crawling by. In West Street there was a bigger presence.
One thing you could bet your shirt on would be the presence of a permanent fixture on this Street a man mountain of a Copper called Smudger.
This bloke was freakishly big six foot 7 with massive size 15 Dr Martens. He was a horrible man with a reputation for brutality (once you were away from prying eyes) No one liked the OB but everyone detested this one. You can ask virtually anyone from that era about this fella and they will know him.
In the cavern on the Friday there was already a huge buzz about the place. I was with Darren F a Brighton lad who also followed Tottenham and he knew a few of the lads coming down. He was told they would be up for it.
At some point during the evening the word was going around that there was a huge Tottenham firm down below the ramps beneath the Kings Road. There was a massive buzz of excitement and people were mobilising, geeing themselves up. I know several lads were tooled-up as used to say, with Craft knives that someone had shoplifted from WH smith in the Churchill Square.
I never got involved with the Craft knife thing. Having seen a lovely local fella, a good lad, who’d been striped after getting trapped on a Bus, I knew what it meant for the victim.
Anyway the plan was to cut through Ship Street Gardens (a very narrow twitten only wide enough for two people) then down Middle Street and across the Kings Road to the Seafront.
But as we got on to Middle Street a handful of Tottenham were coming through South Street. “Come on then!” John M shouted.
Faced by this huge mob which must have seemed twice as big in the darkness, the Tottenham fans turned back running into the Junction of West Street.
We followed to the end of South Street a good firm of Yids were coming over the road from the promenade and began running towards us. Always in these situations there’s a make or break moment when you process what’s happening and experience adrenal dump. Some people mistake this for fear and run.
(Unless of course you are so pissed you don’t know your own name)
There was a wall of noise with people roaring and smacking people in the head. Someone came running at me from the side and I’ll never forget he jumped up in the air as he planted a dig in my jaw below my ear but where he wasn’t grounded it felt like a powder puff and I smacked him as hard as could across the nose. It was chaos. At one point I was getting punched and kicked from pillar to post , seeing stars and everything, running a monologue in my head saying, “Do something for fucks sake”.
The sound at these times is like a herd of elephants. I was being kicked and punched and yanked about but I honestly felt nothing. I was too high on the adrenaline.
It seemed to go on forever but in reality the police were there probably there in less than two minutes making arrests. Lads were backing up into South Street and a few were running along the front towards Ship St.
Back in the Cavern people were amped up with what had happened, talking twenty to the dozen.
A few were marked up.
“Let’s look look at ya ‘ands” I heard Rob C say to this slow fella he knew with
a mock show of brotherly concern.
He was sending the bloke up but making him feel chuffed at the same time.
It was one of those moments that lift you out of the ordinary.
It sounds daft now but at the time it felt fantastic.
At closing time we walked round to West Street and it was alive with OB. Wherever Tottenham had gone it wasn’t in the town.
Walking up towards the clock Tower I was told someone I knew had been battered by some Tottenham Fans after getting caught in the Enclosure that used to surround the entrance to the old Coasters Night club. In the Argus later I read there had been hundreds of Arrests and serious trouble all over the Town.
Later that night we were walking up on the Queens Road when my pal saw a group of Tottenham fans that he knew.
“Where ya going?”
“Home” one said with a half-smile,
“It’s too f***ing heavy dahn ere”
cheers,
Brighton in that era could still boast clubs called Night Fever and pubs named Shades, relics of a decade before.
Amusement arcades were full of early black and white videogames like Defender and Asteroids.
But for the young gunslingers around West Street, of greater interest were the Fruit machines.
Having worked out that a coiled up length of nylon fishing line could be jiggled about in the coin slot racking up endless free-plays, the machines were being systematically relieved of their takings.
In addition many lads walked about with sheets of paper with drawings of the running order on each reel. When the nudge feature lit good payouts were a formality. In fact the only gamble was getting caught in flagrante.
At one stage there were so many empty machines people were taking the train along to Worthing to maintain the cash flow. The poor one-armed bandits didn’t stand a chance.
The talk of the town (well some of it) was the upcoming visit from Tottenham.
Fine details were being ground out ad-nauseum over pints of Fosters or bottles of Grolsch . In those days the meeting place was The Cavern in Ship Street.
Usually after 7pm the doorman would be Dave, an amiable bloke who ended up managing the whole place. He knew all the faces and when he became the Manager he would often give you a Pint on the House.
Once inside the décor was that Maroon wallpaper, nicotined ceilings and Dralon, once standard fare in pubs, hinting vainly at elegance.
There was a long bar running ahead on your right with smoked glass Mirrors and big brass pumps. Along the left were wooden tables.
For ages I remember, there was a resident graphologist or handwriting expert. He was a chain smoking alcoholic who pretended to unlock the secrets encoded in people’s handwriting. He had all these documents pinned to the wall purporting to show famous celebrities he’d ‘done’ like Joan Collins or Sid James. I don’t know what the arrangement was but he had his own desk.
Anyway, pass this bloke (everybody did) and you had two options; one door opened on to a lounge type area with an open fire, a couple of fruit machines and Pool tables , the other door led down some stairs to the toilets and the basement bar.
When I first got into this dark and dingy basement as a Schoolboy I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Me and my mate used to buy a Stones Ginger Wine (pretending it was whiskey) and small Old Port Cigars, then we’d sit back in a dark recess people watching.
A regular fixture downstairs was a transsexual called Bibi aged about 30. He/she used to stand at the bar giving all the young fellas the glad eye. Once she’d had a drink , she would lift up her blouse and flash these massive boobs at everyone. I always used to use the opposite end of the bar out of the way, but I’m sure one or two lads went home with her out of curiosity, not that they would admit it.
I know there was drug use going on, but It was all red leb and amyl nitrate . It used to stink to high heaven.. You could feel your head thumping from the fumes and have to go outside for a breather.
In those days deejays used to keep talking between records, giving people the shout out as they came in. King Jerry was synonymous with The Cavern, a local legend still going strong today. The Cavern was known as a good place to meet Sorts. All you had to do was watch who was getting a bit Bryan Ferry (Merry). I met a lovely blonde girl one night Juliet Busby from Queens Park. I found out later she had been killed in a tragic car crash on the road leading to the Devil’s Dyke days later. She was 17.
This basement held about two hundred maximum I suppose but at that time you would pretty much know everyone. As a result it rarely kicked off and if it did, it was usually some hapless drunk who didn’t know what he’d walked into.
So this weekend Brighton were playing Tottenham at home. People had spoken about little else for weeks. Quite a few supported London teams and went up to the Lane or the Den and knew their boys. But this was different, in these games you nailed your colours to the mast and for that weekend you were most definitely Brighton.
Tottenham were rumoured to be coming down on the Friday Night and there was a huge turnout inside the Cavern. The streets around the ‘town’ centre
(Which it still was In those days not yet attaining City status) were relatively clear of OB with an occasional meat wagon crawling by. In West Street there was a bigger presence.
One thing you could bet your shirt on would be the presence of a permanent fixture on this Street a man mountain of a Copper called Smudger.
This bloke was freakishly big six foot 7 with massive size 15 Dr Martens. He was a horrible man with a reputation for brutality (once you were away from prying eyes) No one liked the OB but everyone detested this one. You can ask virtually anyone from that era about this fella and they will know him.
In the cavern on the Friday there was already a huge buzz about the place. I was with Darren F a Brighton lad who also followed Tottenham and he knew a few of the lads coming down. He was told they would be up for it.
At some point during the evening the word was going around that there was a huge Tottenham firm down below the ramps beneath the Kings Road. There was a massive buzz of excitement and people were mobilising, geeing themselves up. I know several lads were tooled-up as used to say, with Craft knives that someone had shoplifted from WH smith in the Churchill Square.
I never got involved with the Craft knife thing. Having seen a lovely local fella, a good lad, who’d been striped after getting trapped on a Bus, I knew what it meant for the victim.
Anyway the plan was to cut through Ship Street Gardens (a very narrow twitten only wide enough for two people) then down Middle Street and across the Kings Road to the Seafront.
But as we got on to Middle Street a handful of Tottenham were coming through South Street. “Come on then!” John M shouted.
Faced by this huge mob which must have seemed twice as big in the darkness, the Tottenham fans turned back running into the Junction of West Street.
We followed to the end of South Street a good firm of Yids were coming over the road from the promenade and began running towards us. Always in these situations there’s a make or break moment when you process what’s happening and experience adrenal dump. Some people mistake this for fear and run.
(Unless of course you are so pissed you don’t know your own name)
There was a wall of noise with people roaring and smacking people in the head. Someone came running at me from the side and I’ll never forget he jumped up in the air as he planted a dig in my jaw below my ear but where he wasn’t grounded it felt like a powder puff and I smacked him as hard as could across the nose. It was chaos. At one point I was getting punched and kicked from pillar to post , seeing stars and everything, running a monologue in my head saying, “Do something for fucks sake”.
The sound at these times is like a herd of elephants. I was being kicked and punched and yanked about but I honestly felt nothing. I was too high on the adrenaline.
It seemed to go on forever but in reality the police were there probably there in less than two minutes making arrests. Lads were backing up into South Street and a few were running along the front towards Ship St.
Back in the Cavern people were amped up with what had happened, talking twenty to the dozen.
A few were marked up.
“Let’s look look at ya ‘ands” I heard Rob C say to this slow fella he knew with
a mock show of brotherly concern.
He was sending the bloke up but making him feel chuffed at the same time.
It was one of those moments that lift you out of the ordinary.
It sounds daft now but at the time it felt fantastic.
At closing time we walked round to West Street and it was alive with OB. Wherever Tottenham had gone it wasn’t in the town.
Walking up towards the clock Tower I was told someone I knew had been battered by some Tottenham Fans after getting caught in the Enclosure that used to surround the entrance to the old Coasters Night club. In the Argus later I read there had been hundreds of Arrests and serious trouble all over the Town.
Later that night we were walking up on the Queens Road when my pal saw a group of Tottenham fans that he knew.
“Where ya going?”
“Home” one said with a half-smile,
“It’s too f***ing heavy dahn ere”
cheers,
Last edited:
Taybha
Whalewhine
ile admit trying to pull biba and her/his mate ,and i have no excuse of being pissed as i dont drink , the friday night of that spurs invasion i was working in the concorde, reggae night, and the place was trashed,every window put in which was quite nice of them considering the amount of joint smoke the place was engulfed in.
yes we did...ooops, i mean i heard we did!!