And it never was, coming as it did, second-hand from Mitcham Stadium, the brainchild of entrepreneur Sydney Parkes who built it in 1935, hosting among other things, rugby league, baseball and greyhound racing and, although the latter is disputed, the gable was built to be in line with the finish line.
Mitcham Stadium closed in 1955 and the stand was bought by Leyton Orient who gave it a new lease of life at Brisbane Road in 1958.
There’s much more of this story here and here, but in the meantime, our brand new video premieres next week, and you can find that here:
Let me tell you ‘bout a boy named Harry And all the fuss about the girl he married She weren’t like them, she was a celebrity No eyes of blue, American too She would never fit in to their family
But she sang Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me It could be so much better Shooting Taliban together What a power couple we will be
Let me tell you ’bout a bloke called Charlie Spent his whole life waiting for his mum’s last party Crowned at last and everything would be alright Then son number one And son number two Had a set too and broke the dog’s bowl in a fight
While she sang Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me It could be so much better Shooting Taliban together What a power couple we will be
Let me tell you ’bout a woman called Camilla Charlie’s regular date for dinner The Princess of All Our Hearts ain’t for me I wanna be your tampon Come on, let’s get it on I don’t care if I’m indiscreet
And she sang Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me It could be so much better Shooting Taliban together What a power couple we will be
Let me tell you ’bout a prince called William The whole of Wales was his dominion Hier to the throne, all he has to do is stay alive But he fought with his brother In the absence of his mother About their choice of royal wives
And she sang Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me It could be so much better Shooting Taliban together What a power couple we will be
Let me tell you ’bout the whole damn lot of ‘em How much better it would be to be shot of ‘em Off with their heads, and those of all their friends Gold, gilt and greed Something we don’t need And that’s the way the story ends
While she sang Harry, Harry won’t you fly with me It could be so much better Shooting Taliban together What a power couple we will be
*Lost in the mists of time is Steve singing Mary Had a Tory Baby. It went out live on a Punk 4 The Homeless live stream never to be seen again. If anyone has a copy, please let us know.
She had to stop watching the news when she became the news Another poverty safari into a lifestyle she didn’t choose She hardly has the lights on at this time of year And like the feeling going around She’s feeling like she’s gonna drown And she don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down
Blackouts to hide from bailiffs rather than warplanes But it’s war just the same, in all but name, with a wartime price to be paid And something to eat will have to wait until tomorrow now ‘Cause like the feeling going around She’s feeling like she’s gonna drown And she don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down When the sun goes down When the sun goes down She don’t know what she’s gonna do when the sun goes down
Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man But she’s doesn’t understand How he’s just getting by
Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man But she doesn’t understand And she’s forgetting why
Waitrose Woman works in the city Loves low taxes and the NHS Waitrose Woman lives in Surrey Has two kids and a dog called Bess Waitrose woman likes Radio 4 She doesn’t really feel the culture war She feels very sorry for the kids of the poor She buys their dusters at the door She knows that she’s okay She knows that she’s okay
Meal Deal Man lives in the city He’s already eaten his one-a-day Meal Deal Man works for a living But he’s going to the food bank today Meal Deal Man gets his benefits paid He lies in the bed they say he made His shirt is clean but his collar is frayed He used to vote but just feels betrayed He knows he’s not okay He knows he’s not okay
Meal Deal Man drinks a Wetherspoons coffee It’s not very nice but the pub is warm Meal Deal Man knows there’s heat in the bookies And they’ll leave him alone to study the form Meal Deal Man’s card gets declined Meal Deal Man knows life’s unkind Meal Deal Man’s been left behind Even though he’s always tried He knows he’s not okay He knows he’s not okay
Waitrose Woman likes a glass of wine A ripe avocado and wholemeal bread Waitrose Woman loves her warm kitchen And cool sheets when she slips into bed Waitrose Woman knows we’re all the same She feels very sorry for the sick and the lame She thinks that poverty is a shame But hard work is the name of the game She knows that she’s okay She knows that she’s okay
Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man But she’s doesn’t understand How he’s just getting by
Waitrose Woman loves Meal Deal Man But she doesn’t understand And she’s forgetting why She’s forgetting why She’s forgetting why She’s forgetting why
Trickle-down misery Trickle-down poverty Trickle down lies And trickle-down dishonesty Trickle-down rules From a trickle-down clown Only trickle down In Trickle-Down Town
Trickle-down parties With trickle-down cakes Trickle-down suitcased Trickle-down fakes Trickle-down fines Come trickling down From fifties to thousands In Trickle-Down Town
The trickle-down cough’s Still trickle-down persistent The trickle-down prof.’s Still pretty non-existent Now poxy monkey pox Is trickling down ‘Cause the A/C’s always off In Trickle-Down Town
The trickle-down penny Still hasn’t dropped The trickle-down rises Still haven’t stopped Rishi’s five pence Is nowhere to be found On any forecourt In Trickle-Down Town
Trickle-down prices Are trickle-down rising A trickle-down crisis Is hardly surprising When trickle-down profits Are still never found In the trickle-down pockets Of Trickle-Down Town
The trickle-down prince Reads a trickle-down speech To a trickle-down house With trickle-down reach Sat on a trickle-down throne Next to a trickle-down crown Now they boo the national anthem In Trickle-Down Town
They’re crying about woke They’re crying she’s a bloke They’re crying ‘bout appendages The vestiges of yesterdays
They’re crying about words That they think are absurd They’re crying ‘bout the language Being savaged for the damaged
It’s bin bags Bin bags It’s just bin bags Bin bags
They’re crying about Bragg They think that it’s a drag That he’s standing with the persecuted Most disputed and excluded
They’re crying about caring And storytelling scaring They’re crying ‘bout the activists Who won’t assist the anti-ists
It’s bin bags Bin bags It’s just bin bags Bin bags
They said you couldn’t call ‘em By the colour that they are They said it was the looney lefties Who had gone too far They say that what goes around Comes around again And now it’s gender critical, it’s You can’t call it’s Minds are small, it’s
Bin bags Bin bags It’s just bin bags Bin bags
They don’t like their lives disrupted Opinions deconstructed To understand it’s complicated Other people should be feted Not just accommodated And your words can show that you care Your words can show that you care
It’s bin bags Bin bags It’s just bin bags Bin bags
Steve White & The Protest Family 