I was in that pub when Scarabb came in, my mate Dibsy got nicked for no reason.
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WSF. The Origins Of Casuals In Brighton.
- Thread starter thecavern
- Start date
I was in that pub when Scarabb came in, my mate Dibsy got nicked for no reason.
The Wookiee
Back From The Dead
Yep thats him
Alby
Member
Wasnt that Forest fan Paul Scarrott not Scarrab.
Died a few years back in Spain.
Died a few years back in Spain.
¤DãŃn¥ §êãGüLL¤
Banned
Amazing the amount of boys that go on this site... they all come out the woodwork when a thread like this pops up.
Great reading, genuine non-comedy NSC gold material
Great reading, genuine non-comedy NSC gold material
seagurn
Well-known member
Was with you then think about 20 of us went up from lewes and newhaven yeah think dibs threw his pint and SC got collard as well....
- Thread starter
- #326
Duke Street today is a chic thoroughfare of elegant shops and classy bars. As you enter from West Street, on the top left hand side, a fashionable footwear store sells re-issues of iconic footwear from the 1980's.
Aptly enough, at the time, this spot was the home of the sports-shop of choice for West Streeters, and it’s name was Wisden’s Sports.
This business was owned by the famous Wisden family familiar to any lover of Cricket. It was also the first Brighton store to stock Fila, Sergio Tacchini, Lacoste, in fact almost everything you’d be looking for when exclusive sportswear labels still carried the swing.
On the ground floor was footwear, with shoes by Adidas, Diadora Puma and Nike. You could buy ‘82 Forest Hills, Stan Smith’s Adidas Samba or Mamba right through to Gazelles .
A walk up the narrow stairwell and you opened up on to a room say 5 metres wide by 15 deep. A central circular rail had Fila Bj Matchdays in the blue and the green colourways, Sergio Tacchini tracksuits, Lacoste tracksuits, Kappa tracksuits. Ellese Velour jackets and Fila Sweaters.
On the shelves surrounding this were stacks of Lacoste polos in every colourway, basically a goldmine for any young casual.
We used to go in and then come out with shopping lists for the thieves. No one really ever paid full price for anything. We used to talk about what we were going to wear to this game or that game. I once remarked upon someone’s new Fila Bj Matchday and his mate said “you wanna see in his fuckin wardrobe!” It sounds Metro now to say the least, but that’s how it was.
At weekends, after the Cavern and the Sea House, A good few of us used to use a club that was below Swifts (a large pub on the bottom of West Street) It was called the Box. To comply with licensing laws, they also needed to serve hot food. Because of this when you paid to get in they used to give you a raffle ticket.
Come 12 o’clock you could exchange your ticket for sausage and chips. It was strange seeing people dancing with a basket of sausage and chips, but no one really cared.
One time I saw someone stub his cigarette out on the dee-jays vinyl record label while it was playing, making the record jump all over the place. When I asked him later why he did it he said “Someone give me a microdot (lsd tab) and I thought the record label was a glass ashtray" .
After the pubs or clubs we used to walk through to the All Night Café in Circus Street (an apt location given many of the clientele)
The Ringmaster, to stretch the analogy, was a lightly built middle-aged guy named Peter.
Due to a slightly uneven gaze he became know as Wonk-eye Peter or Bolt-eye for short. This Man's unfortunate task was to take orders, cook or serve the tables, often all three.
We would arrive anytime between 11:30 pm and 3 am. Even later after a party. You’d walk in join the queue and then at the counter take a ticket and wait for one of Peter’s eyes to make contact.
Mostly I used to order a Tea or a few Teas depending on who was with me then either go left through to the bottom room or right and up a few stairs to another section . The noise in here used to get unbearable. Everyone was smoking and a few people would be semi-conscious slumped over the tables.
The menu offered fry ups of a million variations. A popular one was the Gutbuster with everything from Fried Black pudding to Chips via fried bread. From 11pm onwards a steady stream of punters would roll in, fill their boots then melt away into the night.
When the West Streeters arrived it signalled the end of the peace. Someone had heard a rumour (probably false) about Peter’s love life. A chant used to go up that paraphrased a moment in the McVicar film. “Sex case, wonk-eye,hang him,hang him,hang him” “Sex case,wonk-eye hang him,hang him,hang him“
It went on for ages sometimes getting deafeningly loud, forty odd boys banging the tables in time to the chants. How he stood it I don’t know. Peter just took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Well one of them at least.
At the time there were one or two faces about the town who used to turn the atmosphere on a sixpence, just by walking in. If they were upstairs in Annabell’s The Cavern downstairs would suddenly get busy and vice versa.
One in particular was a man I will call ‘J’. At the time he really did used to put the fear of God into people. He had served time and was known by all the OB. His face was a warning sign from Mother Nature saying keep away. He could be as nice as pie one minute then turn.
'J' had a habit of theatrically slapping strangers hard round the back of the head and snarling ;
“Git aaht ov it!” (Get out of it in English)
Alternatively he would give someone a tremendous punt with his trainers up the backside and scream;
“Faarkin’ give it all a that ya muug! (roughly translates as -don’t start any of that).
This could happen to anyone at anytime depending on how pissed he was.
The Police used to treat him with kid gloves after street fights saying “come on 'J' that’s enough now, be a good lad, tomorrow’s another day) I don’t know why but they never used to want to nick him. He probably caused so much grief at John St that they couldn’t face the hassle.
One night he came into the All Night Cafe and sat down with a cup of tea. He was helping himself to a chip here a sip of tea there. He used to do that. Walk past a stranger’s table then lean over and help himself to a sausage or bit of toast.
A young fella Rob who was a street wise little cockney, slipped off unseen and began loading up his empty plate with leftovers from around the café. A Bit of fried bread here, a few mushrooms and a sausage.. Anyway when the plate was loaded right up he sat down discretely nearby and said loudly “I can’t eat this, I ain’t even hungry no more” With that ‘J’ took the plate and started wolfing it down. With every mouthful you were trying not to start laughing. Rob was beside himself but all J could see was this Free gut-buster. He didn’t know any different. After that he sat there as good as gold. That’s how he was. Unpredictable as the weather.
The celebrity culture that engulfed the UK in the late 20th Century was still largely absent in the early eighties, but we were lucky. We didn’t need Celebrity Culture.Our contemporaries were our celebrities. Well mine were.
No one I knew had any money as such beyond what came from ducking and diving or a low weekly wage. But it didn’t really matter.
If you had a new pair of Trim Trabbs or an Ellesse zip through
Or even a New Head bag, God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.
On time In Summer I’d seen Michael Letford
Near the Pier as a warm afternoon
turned to evening.
We were talking about West Street Days.
He turned to me and said "the thing is, no-one will ever have those times we all had
mate, never.
I knew exactly what he meant.
Mickey died prematurely, but right then at 17 years old he seemed perfectly content with the show so far.
And who could blame him.
---------------------------
Thanks for joining me.
All the Best.
Aptly enough, at the time, this spot was the home of the sports-shop of choice for West Streeters, and it’s name was Wisden’s Sports.
This business was owned by the famous Wisden family familiar to any lover of Cricket. It was also the first Brighton store to stock Fila, Sergio Tacchini, Lacoste, in fact almost everything you’d be looking for when exclusive sportswear labels still carried the swing.
On the ground floor was footwear, with shoes by Adidas, Diadora Puma and Nike. You could buy ‘82 Forest Hills, Stan Smith’s Adidas Samba or Mamba right through to Gazelles .
A walk up the narrow stairwell and you opened up on to a room say 5 metres wide by 15 deep. A central circular rail had Fila Bj Matchdays in the blue and the green colourways, Sergio Tacchini tracksuits, Lacoste tracksuits, Kappa tracksuits. Ellese Velour jackets and Fila Sweaters.
On the shelves surrounding this were stacks of Lacoste polos in every colourway, basically a goldmine for any young casual.
We used to go in and then come out with shopping lists for the thieves. No one really ever paid full price for anything. We used to talk about what we were going to wear to this game or that game. I once remarked upon someone’s new Fila Bj Matchday and his mate said “you wanna see in his fuckin wardrobe!” It sounds Metro now to say the least, but that’s how it was.
At weekends, after the Cavern and the Sea House, A good few of us used to use a club that was below Swifts (a large pub on the bottom of West Street) It was called the Box. To comply with licensing laws, they also needed to serve hot food. Because of this when you paid to get in they used to give you a raffle ticket.
Come 12 o’clock you could exchange your ticket for sausage and chips. It was strange seeing people dancing with a basket of sausage and chips, but no one really cared.
One time I saw someone stub his cigarette out on the dee-jays vinyl record label while it was playing, making the record jump all over the place. When I asked him later why he did it he said “Someone give me a microdot (lsd tab) and I thought the record label was a glass ashtray" .
After the pubs or clubs we used to walk through to the All Night Café in Circus Street (an apt location given many of the clientele)
The Ringmaster, to stretch the analogy, was a lightly built middle-aged guy named Peter.
Due to a slightly uneven gaze he became know as Wonk-eye Peter or Bolt-eye for short. This Man's unfortunate task was to take orders, cook or serve the tables, often all three.
We would arrive anytime between 11:30 pm and 3 am. Even later after a party. You’d walk in join the queue and then at the counter take a ticket and wait for one of Peter’s eyes to make contact.
Mostly I used to order a Tea or a few Teas depending on who was with me then either go left through to the bottom room or right and up a few stairs to another section . The noise in here used to get unbearable. Everyone was smoking and a few people would be semi-conscious slumped over the tables.
The menu offered fry ups of a million variations. A popular one was the Gutbuster with everything from Fried Black pudding to Chips via fried bread. From 11pm onwards a steady stream of punters would roll in, fill their boots then melt away into the night.
When the West Streeters arrived it signalled the end of the peace. Someone had heard a rumour (probably false) about Peter’s love life. A chant used to go up that paraphrased a moment in the McVicar film. “Sex case, wonk-eye,hang him,hang him,hang him” “Sex case,wonk-eye hang him,hang him,hang him“
It went on for ages sometimes getting deafeningly loud, forty odd boys banging the tables in time to the chants. How he stood it I don’t know. Peter just took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Well one of them at least.
At the time there were one or two faces about the town who used to turn the atmosphere on a sixpence, just by walking in. If they were upstairs in Annabell’s The Cavern downstairs would suddenly get busy and vice versa.
One in particular was a man I will call ‘J’. At the time he really did used to put the fear of God into people. He had served time and was known by all the OB. His face was a warning sign from Mother Nature saying keep away. He could be as nice as pie one minute then turn.
'J' had a habit of theatrically slapping strangers hard round the back of the head and snarling ;
“Git aaht ov it!” (Get out of it in English)
Alternatively he would give someone a tremendous punt with his trainers up the backside and scream;
“Faarkin’ give it all a that ya muug! (roughly translates as -don’t start any of that).
This could happen to anyone at anytime depending on how pissed he was.
The Police used to treat him with kid gloves after street fights saying “come on 'J' that’s enough now, be a good lad, tomorrow’s another day) I don’t know why but they never used to want to nick him. He probably caused so much grief at John St that they couldn’t face the hassle.
One night he came into the All Night Cafe and sat down with a cup of tea. He was helping himself to a chip here a sip of tea there. He used to do that. Walk past a stranger’s table then lean over and help himself to a sausage or bit of toast.
A young fella Rob who was a street wise little cockney, slipped off unseen and began loading up his empty plate with leftovers from around the café. A Bit of fried bread here, a few mushrooms and a sausage.. Anyway when the plate was loaded right up he sat down discretely nearby and said loudly “I can’t eat this, I ain’t even hungry no more” With that ‘J’ took the plate and started wolfing it down. With every mouthful you were trying not to start laughing. Rob was beside himself but all J could see was this Free gut-buster. He didn’t know any different. After that he sat there as good as gold. That’s how he was. Unpredictable as the weather.
The celebrity culture that engulfed the UK in the late 20th Century was still largely absent in the early eighties, but we were lucky. We didn’t need Celebrity Culture.Our contemporaries were our celebrities. Well mine were.
No one I knew had any money as such beyond what came from ducking and diving or a low weekly wage. But it didn’t really matter.
If you had a new pair of Trim Trabbs or an Ellesse zip through
Or even a New Head bag, God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.
On time In Summer I’d seen Michael Letford
Near the Pier as a warm afternoon
turned to evening.
We were talking about West Street Days.
He turned to me and said "the thing is, no-one will ever have those times we all had
mate, never.
I knew exactly what he meant.
Mickey died prematurely, but right then at 17 years old he seemed perfectly content with the show so far.
And who could blame him.
---------------------------
Thanks for joining me.
All the Best.
Last edited:
Tom Hark Preston Park
Will Post For Cash
- Jul 6, 2003
- 72,327
I don't doubt it in the least. My point was that the elegant prose of thecavern is fully deserving of photography of the same high standard. Must have been SOMEBODY documenting the scene at the time. Maybe an up n coming photo-journalist out to make a name for himself. I'd be very surprised if there wasn't.
Spanish Seagulls
Well-known member
Good work, you're getting the hang of this lark.
- Thread starter
- #329
The Wookiee
Back From The Dead
This thread has to warrant GOLD status !!!!
Best read ever on NSC !!!!
Best read ever on NSC !!!!
With lots of posters on here always banging on about how wrong the hooligan eliment of the game is/was..........there are 17,000+ views on here.
Funny that....
Great reading, remember some of the days and know few of the names mentioned.
Funny that....
Great reading, remember some of the days and know few of the names mentioned.
Last edited:
raymondbriggs
New member
With lots of posters on here always banging on about how wrong the hooligan eliment of the game is/was..........there are 17,000+ posts on here.
Funny that....
Great reading, remember some of the days and know few of the names mentioned.
NSC is the great divide,loads of spotty kids who dont understand the joy of standing on a terrace giving into the palarse love in,deluded by a few spotty scum turning out for the REMF and the old gits who enjoyed the days when spectating was not a spectator sport.
this generation get a lot less out of the game than we did.
this was early 80's:US:
LA1972
New member
Football hooligan film " The Firm" is out on Feb 1st probably the best of all the rubbish that has been churned out. Set in the 80s with all the clothes and music its well worth a look. A few Brighton lads were extras in the fight scenes filmed on Littlehampton seafront ( meant to be at Portsmouth )
Spanish Seagulls
Well-known member
Cavern, out of interest I'd love to know what the soundtrack to these hazy days was. Music as much as fashion which features quite heavily were the main ingredients to growing up ( well getting sticky fingers from the girls too ) where I was brought up ( Shepherds Bush ) so it would be interesting to learn what your musical memories of these times were too. Was it jazz Funk, Disco, reggae, lovers rock or more white musically orientated ? I know it's not what drives these recollections but I was just harking back to those days in my own mind & was always one to musically define datelines if you know what I mean.
Don't let me distract you from the great pictures you're painting with your words though.
Don't let me distract you from the great pictures you're painting with your words though.
Marlton & Hove Albion
New member
Thanks for joining me.
All the Best.[/QUOTE]
Cavern - Do you remember the double gut buster? It came with a government health warning. Funny how different people had different names. We all called him "Pink Eyed Pete"...f*** knows why.
Did you ever come across a big fella called "Chippy"....no need to describe his trade. He was the battering ram of our team. I am 6' 2, so he must have been 6' 5. He had a huge head and his speciality was a double nut. Bloke in front and bloke behind in one movement. Semi-stable pre Shades, he would become increasingly aggressive via Sussex, Pump House, Druids and Bath Arms and Queen Vic. Stepping into West St, his brutality switch would shift to on. Curious.
I remember him charging solo Man U one weekend who were gathered outside of the Cricketers. Mr. Stanley cut down his back that he hardly noticed until someone mentioned the crimson stain spreading across his shirt. That was the only time I ever saw him without his super human powers of sadistic behavior.
All the Best.[/QUOTE]
Cavern - Do you remember the double gut buster? It came with a government health warning. Funny how different people had different names. We all called him "Pink Eyed Pete"...f*** knows why.
Did you ever come across a big fella called "Chippy"....no need to describe his trade. He was the battering ram of our team. I am 6' 2, so he must have been 6' 5. He had a huge head and his speciality was a double nut. Bloke in front and bloke behind in one movement. Semi-stable pre Shades, he would become increasingly aggressive via Sussex, Pump House, Druids and Bath Arms and Queen Vic. Stepping into West St, his brutality switch would shift to on. Curious.
I remember him charging solo Man U one weekend who were gathered outside of the Cricketers. Mr. Stanley cut down his back that he hardly noticed until someone mentioned the crimson stain spreading across his shirt. That was the only time I ever saw him without his super human powers of sadistic behavior.
With lots of posters on here always banging on about how wrong the hooligan eliment of the game is/was..........there are 17,000+ views on here.
Funny that....
Great reading, remember some of the days and know few of the names mentioned.
You are absolutely correct there csider. ( Apart from the spelling!
)- Thread starter
- #340
Hey Marlton I do remember him. He was unmissable with a big bison sized head hahaha there were a few big lads back then and I do rember the double gutbuster the most I could ever stomach after a night in the town was beans on toast and I used to leave half of that
Regarding the music Spanish, In the town it was all US Soul The Message & White lines Grandmaster Flash, Peoples choice Jam Jam (all night long) King Jerry loved James Brown Get on the Good Foot/sex machine Marvin Gaye Sexual Healing was huge around the clubs. I mentioned Street life Randy Crawford Crusaders when you used to go to peoples houses, they listened to Lou Reed , The Stones even the first Dire Straits Album, "Dire Straits" that track Walking in the Wild West End. That caught the mood. You know Brighton, same old same old, anything goes really.
the most I could ever stomach after a night in the town was beans on toast and I used to leave half of that Regarding the music Spanish, In the town it was all US Soul The Message & White lines Grandmaster Flash, Peoples choice Jam Jam (all night long) King Jerry loved James Brown Get on the Good Foot/sex machine Marvin Gaye Sexual Healing was huge around the clubs. I mentioned Street life Randy Crawford Crusaders when you used to go to peoples houses, they listened to Lou Reed , The Stones even the first Dire Straits Album, "Dire Straits" that track Walking in the Wild West End. That caught the mood. You know Brighton, same old same old, anything goes really.