Barry

That is truly crackers.

I put Beedle on in the back room of the House venue I was resident at throughout the 90s and beyond....the back room was used to Chemical Brothers, Kelvin Andrews, Jon Of The Pleased Wimmin etc...left field stuff....Beedle came on, opened with Eloise Laws - Love Factory and played an hour and a half of Seventies Northern....I got on the mic at the end and shouted 'there you go you house bastards, how much left field do you want!?

Along with Pete, I'll re-iterate this one for newer members...from 2009: I remember I was generally very much a 'bus home' type kid after Wigan. It was cheaper, dropped me off virtually outside my house and didn't involve dealing with too many people the morning after. The problem with living in Warrington and being in Wigan that early on a Sunday morning was that there was a only a single bus that left Wigan Bus Station at 6.30am, then none 'til 12.30pm, which generally pre-empted the (bugger of a) walk home. It wasn't too bad as I'm sure it was all fields then and eternally sunny. The bonuses of leaving for the early bus were liberating a pint of milk and a paper from the knotted packages left outside the newsagents in the Arcade - anyway I digress. This particular morning I had no money left at all and was in a bit of a state as the preceding night I had been at the contents of a small enevelope I had taken with me to sell - I seem to remember up around 3am as Searling announced that M's would be open in five minutes, then nothing til the moment I was outside The Casino in the daylight . Having no money and being in a state left me with one option - jumping the train, as there was no way I was going to be able to walk the nine mile home this morning and there was no obvious way past the single decker bus driver without my fare home. I recall wobbling down Fishergate in me long leather and bag and upon arrival at the train station, after a little recce, working out that I could get up to the platform by scaling, Spiderman-like, a massive piece of corrugated sheeting that was leaning from the base of a small wall up to platfrom-heaven. This had no doubt been placed there by some other gimp for that exact same reason. There's a blank again here but I must have alighted the train as the next thing I recall is being near the toilet inbetween carriages, arms leaning out of the window and approaching Winwick Junction (Winwick being the village just outside Warrington where I lived) - all with an amount of dread within me, as I knew what I was about to have to do. Now Winwick Junction is a place where the Wigan-Warrington train slowed down to about 10-15 miles an hour as it was crossing a junction/tracks and was the only point on this hairy-journey that would be forgiving enough for me to attempt some kind of parachute jump-like exit from the train. Not good. Anyway, there was no way round it, I'd come this far. I remember biting my lip, grasping the 'Communication Cord' (the 'Use Only In Emergency' brake cord that ran the length of the train)....and pulling!? F*ck me, I don't know if you've ever been on a train when a 'Communication Cord' has been pulled but it's a pretty violent way to stop a 107 tonne, quarter mile long of rampant iron and steel. "SCREEEEEEECH!" - "BANG!" I got threw against the bog door - and then the other way - and then back again....as the train attempted it's non-standard Winwick Junction stop. Now fully alert, as the fear and the thoughts of the possible consequences of my actions had seemed to morph into an imaginary hand that dove right down the front of my early 80's underpants, grasped my knackers and shoved them up my a*se. Thetrain was almost at a stop now so I grabbed my bag, leant out the carriage, opened the train door and jumped. I landed like a sack of sh*t and rolled through a load of gravel and weeds into a wire fence. I stood up, looked down the length of the train toward the engine and to my horror saw about three or four guards hopping off the now stationary train and heading, rather noisily, my way. I jumped the fence into a very dewy cornfield. It was as I was wading red-faced and fear fraught through this wet cornfield with my bag held above elbow height and a number of pissed of British Rail workers in tow, that I realised how badly the lining in long leathers handle the addition of water to their make-up. It was like playing that bloody game on Crackerjack whereby when you answered a question wrong they stuffed cabbage upon cabbage on your already straining person (don't now if that makes sense? but anyhow.) I could see in my immediate view on the other side of a fence an upcoming copse, a small wood and, the irate voices behind me getting nearer and (GET HERE YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!) louder, I began to think I may have an escape route of sorts. In the distance I heard a 'BANG!! ....then another but in my present predicament it didn't register as anything life threatening at the time. I jumped the fence and (BANG!!! again??) dragged my sorry wet arse into the first hiding of trees, there was enough cover for it to mask the sunlight and it became a little twilighty in there. "Great!" I thought as I headed a bit deeper in and looking around (BANG!!! again, louder this time - wtf) I could see our hi-vis wearing be-capped fiends (no spelling mistake, I was scared rigid) beginning to realise this may not be working out in their favour - and they began to bluster and swear at me as they gave up the chase. I was now in a wood. And the wood went BANG!!! a lot. It was at this point I saw my first farmer, out with his mates on a Sunday am hunt!! BANG!!! F*ck me, I'm gonna get shot now. So, adopting a pose somewhere between a Ninja, an SAS infantry man on a mission to nowhere and a piss wet, drugged up teenager in ridiculous coat -with a bag - I set off deeper into the wood, my aim to somehow traverse the local pig-pickers out on their shoot, without getting a hole in my ass. BANG!!! "Hey you!?" I was spotted - "Arse!". My mind had forgotten the little triumph that was losing our friendly BR fence-jumping team and I was back to square one - exept these f*ckers had guns. What I would have given for the fear of a hi-vis jacket now!? With a group of unhappy farmers on my heels ("Get Orf My Land" an' all that) I went tree to tree, skulking, dipping and diving until I could see the light getting brighter - I must be approaching the other side of the wood at last. Then ahead of me I could see the white painted wooden fence that I knew to be the fence that skirted the road opposite the old Winwick (Mental) Hospital (read into that what you will. I WORKED there, alright!), a mile or so from my house and with the voices of my irate hunters tailing off in the darkness behind me, I reached the fence. "Thank f*ck for that!" I breathed deeply, cobbed me bag over it, steadied myself and with a final mighty effort jumped over the fence and onto the main road. Then I got knocked down by a car Suffering for your art? David Blaine don't know the half of it.

Never tire of its bouncy brilliance.

..has died it appears. Please remove if already posted. Dear Friends, Family and Well Wishers It is with our deep regret that Ronny Jordan has recently passed away. We are still coming to terms with the loss of our brother. We are taking steps to manage Ronny's personal affairs and so we ask if you could kindly bear with us as we deal with his matters in the background. We appreciate that Ronny has got many fans around the world and so we ask that you keep an eye out for further announcements in relation to his funeral arrangements. In the meantime, tributes to Ronny can be left on his FB page. Thank you for your patience and understanding. With every blessings and love.. Rickey and Denise Brother and Sister 14th January 2014

Didn't I used to see a bloke about 60 dancing, used to have an hour or two and disappear - always had a dark striped top on - was told he was one of the coach drivers. Didn't appear to be a Soulie per se as he danced like yer Grandad would.

Clapping is in you like a dance move, it happens naturally with certain songs, it's bound to after all those years - thinking about it - it is a dance move!

Linda Jones JCLML....Astors Candy....the Volumes GGHL....Louise Brown Son In Law...Ruby Andrews JLY....Danny White CUOY...Coke Ecovedo MIS.....£109.00

Spotted fella....as an aside...just come home drunk as (Missus' Dads,our Harry''s, funeral in the morning you see).... And thanks to my current drunken gay abandon...you know how you are when emotions run high and you need to get pissed lads....have just made a right stone cold killing on six records.from the Bay. Cheers Harry...see you in the morning lad. X

Weeknight do's were difficult....take yer bird on the 640 on a Thursday and sit on the balcony whilst The Nutty Boys did their stuff underneath..am I dating myself there?? ;)..I always oddly on the midweek do's used to sit above where I used to sit at all nighters...three pints and a fumble and I tried to get out and to the bus station home before I got the Wigan Lad....'You're near the gas Marrer' line. One thing I will say is that I'm pleased I did used to go to Wigan in real life....as it was a very different place when it weren't a Nighter...I saw, smelt and felt it in a very different way at that time...I saw it in real time. By the wY in case you're wondering I am still in the pub...I have had no tea...and this fifth pint is kicking in haha. Speak to you in the morning, before I become Barold Of Old ;) x

Could be an early 80's Crimewatch re enactment of a hit and run in Leicester.

Obviously a bunch of placci-soulies....look at the skid-marks under 'em....more talc lads....MORE TALC!!!

hahaha...post of the thread

Wigan was cutting edge fashion toward the end...cutting edge everything actually, ;)

Yeah, maybe I noticed one of the captions was something along the lines of 'Teenagers enjoying themselves dancing at a disco'...I used to go the midweeks as it happens

Everybody is very dolled up and clean ay?

I'll take it they are all from that period then!?

Bryan Forbes next to Ringo too

Last pic have to be either Scousers or Mancs circa 1980 ay?

Can I see a 3rd Anni patch on lad in pic 8? 76 /77 maybe?

I'm led to believe these are new (old) Wigan photo's: (Never knew Stephen Fry went to Wigan ;)

I can feel a... "That - - - - - - - - - - - - - record!" ...thread coming on

The hand claps are the only thing I can stomach - a hard to bear cartoon-like pastiche of party-funk.

It shouldn't have been played

Really??!!