SF. Pt.11. Journey to the East.

Rod? Everybody knows what happened to him. Some guys get all the luck. He’s currently doing a world tour. It’s all there on Wikipedia. He didn’t stay long in Paris. Went back to London, met Long John Baldry on Twickenham tube station, did a few singing gigs with Steampacket, took over from Steve Marriott as singer for the Small Faces, ‘Maggie May’ was a big hit, became a Big Face, moved to LA. Stardom followed, palatial mansions here and there, glamorous wives, a scattering of not very talented kids one of whom is a regular on Celebrity Rehab where he is trying really hard to deal with self-destructive issues and get an acting job.

Wizz Jones keeps going. He never found commercial success in Folk Music but he has a Friday night gig at the Selkirk off Tooting Broadway. All are welcome. Simon became a Wogan and we’ll be taking a look at his career in due course. But not many people know what happened to Arthur. He just disappeared.

Me? I’ve got a boat in the Caribbean. Move it around a bit depending. I haven’t always been a narrator you know. In fact people often ask me, how did you get to be a narrator Dick? Hard to know where to start really. Growing up poor in North London there weren’t a lot of opportunities. I got my first start in the scrap metal business. Nicking lead off of church roofs if you must know. Until the Gunners picked me up. Doing OK I was too until I got nicked for flogging Dexies. I tried a few things after that…used motors, hot dogs, porn, bookie’s runner, flogging wind-up monkeys on Oxford Street, roadie for Hawkwind…the usual stuff.

Rod was one of the lads. His dad had a paper shop near Archway. I used to buy Weights there. Packets of five. Arthur and Simon on the other hand were what we called posh. Nice cushy lives they had. Not like me. Actually looking back they were just a couple of suburban middle-class lads. Went to Grammar School but I don’t suppose they thought they were anything special. It’s all in the mind innit? All this class stuff…never goes away though does it? All comes down to how you talk and where you live and what school you went to. I don’t know if Simon and Arthur fell for Alex Trocchi’s line of bullshit or not. I certainly didn’t.

Narrating’s not that easy you know. You have to know a bit about your characters, how they talk and that, and you to have a rough idea what’s coming next. Course the author does most of the planning but still somebody has to keep the tone consistent. Concentration is important too. What happens if I go on the piss for instance? Does everything just grind to a halt? Or what if I forget who’s supposed to be talking and start rabbiting away on my own? You can easy get in a mess like that. Plus when things do go wrong I get an earful from the author and the editor. Even readers start having a go at me. It’s very stressful.

Talking of the author he’s been off his oats lately. It’s on account of a book he came across called ‘Beatniks’ by Toby Litt (Britain’s answer to Doug Coupland). He has grudgingly admitted to enjoying it. In fact he wishes he’d written it. It’s about a bunch of middle-class English kids playing at being Jack Kerouac. Kerouac himself was playing at being Neal Cassidy but that’s another story. Anyway Mr. Litt’s book is very clever. The young English Beat wannabes do their best to get in the groove but of course they don’t quite make it. They even go to San Francisco looking for traces of beatitude but get themselves in a bit of a mess man…but I won’t spoil it for you. Not even sure why I mentioned it.

So where was I? Right. Arthur and Simon. Last seen in the South of France. Well they made it down through Italy somehow. The worst thing that happened there was getting whistled at by Italian youths on Lambrettas. Ferry from Brindisi to Igoumenitsa and next thing you know they’re in Athens and I’ve had enough of this chapter.