Left
side of table: Dave Cash and Keith Skues. Opposite, in red shirt, Ben ToneyLeft
side of table: Dave Cash and Keith Skues. Opposite, in red shirt, Ben Toney
Another bizarre non-coincidence occurs here. Thirty-one years ago, I had been the recipient of a magnificent Edward competition megaprize – a centre from a 45! (Along with about 100 other people, I believe.) My reward arrived on March 18th 1966, the same day that David Bowie joined the Knees Club to become member number 127
If you've read The Wonderful Radio London Story you'll realise that members 17 and member 127 have a connection. (Apart from both having a seven incorporated in their number.) John had once played lead guitar with David Bowie (then Jones) and the Mannish Boys. Spooky, huh? I think Scully and Mulder should be called in to investigate Big L '97 and the Walton Time-warp.
During our short journey from the restaurant, Purpleknees made
a terrible confession. He admitted to being the man responsible for René and
Renata's smash hit, Save Your Love. I shall refrain from further comment, but
now you know who to send your hate mail. (In the patella world, of course, the
charts were capped by the RenKNEE and RenaTOE version.)
Many familiar Anorak faces awaited us at the Prince's Theatre, where Melly and
Marge had very kindly reserved seats for us at their table. Melly's beautiful
model of the Galaxy was on display in the foyer.
This party was a Knees Club mini-convention. The nine members
(and eighteen knees) present constituted what must have been the Club's largest
gathering since the 'Sixties, and for all I know, there may well have been other
member-knees hiding incogkneeto amongst the crowd.
Left to right : 'Teenage Opera' singer Keith West, Duncam Johnson, John 'Purpleknees'
Edward
Our Emperor penguin had metamorphosed. Now sporting a dazzling white tux, he looked
remarkably like one of those men who go around shoving mics up housewives' noses,
insisting they trade in their usual washing powder for a packet of new, improved
Omo. As soon as Mark introduced the Fab Four sound-alikes The Other Beatles, I
just had to dance. Doughnut Di, who was resplendent in a stunning purple silk
embroidered dress, felt the same way too, so I lent her my rose and we took our
flowers out onto the floor for a bop. Probably thinking we were the floor-show,
everyone else just sat and stared. Chris E, who had been promising to dance with
every woman he'd met that week, was conspicuous by his absence.
I should explain that back in the Sixties, when I went to see the top groups perform
at Wycombe Town Hall, I didn't dance. It was partly because of shyness, but mainly
because I dared not relinquish my prime position beside the backstage entrance.
When it came to the interval, the Knees Club Founder's duty was to be among the
first in the queue for collecting autographs Ð and of course, Knees Club recruitments.
Nowadays, I'll dance anywhere at the drop of a hat, and on my own if necessary.
At my age I'm beyond caring what anyone thinks. Mostly, though, I find people
make a point of coming over and telling me how great it is to see me enjoying
myself. I must say, I was delighted by the number of people at the Summer of Love
party who took the trouble to compliment me on my psychedelic flower-child gear.
Dave Cash asked if I'd had the outfit made especially for the occasion, and was
amazed to hear it had resided in my attic collection for umpteen years, in the
company of the kneeless trousers! I forgot to ask Dave if he still had the famous
15-yard-long scarf which had been knitted for him and Kenny in 1965 by myself
and some other idiots who went on to become the Knees Club Officials. The last
I'd heard of the scarf's whereabouts (which must have been circa 1968 when I met
the Cashman at Radio One), was that it was still in his possession.
In Summer of Love terminology, the event qualified as a 'Happening'. The party
could have done with being at least a week long, with such a lot of bopping and
snogging and signing of autographs to fit in and so many fascinating people to
engage in conversation. Celebrities kept mobbing me in the bar, begging to be
photographed with me, so how could I refuse them? Then there were more speeches
to hear and raffle tickets to draw, not to mention sound recordings to make. There
were far too many exciting goings-on to squeeze into such a short time. If we
could have been in two places at once, we would have done it. Fluff was practically
trying to operate the DAT machine with one hand and the camera with the other.
However, by making a superhuman effort, I believe I did manage to break the Guinness
record for snogging the greatest number of DJs during one evening.
Next artiste on stage was Keith West, performing his famous hits. Neither of his
1967 successes Sam and Grocer Jack are really dance-oriented songs, but Diana
and I still managed to trip the light-fantastic to them in an ethereal, hippie
sort of way. The resulting photographs reveal us both looking totally stoned.
What did she put in those doughnuts?
Big L personalities past and present made their way up on stage then for yet more
speeches and anecdotes, followed by the drawing of the raffle. Yet another spooky
non-coincidence was that the number 266 was picked as a winner. Fluff and I did
hold a ticket with that magic number, but unfortunately, ours was not the right
colour. John Sales, one of our regular, friendly visitors on the pier, won the
beautifully-decorated Radio London cake. A portrait of the Galaxy with the name
of every DJ who had worked aboard Big Lil, past and present, was worked into the
icing.
Ray Reynolds had brought along his treasured Radio London scrapbook to collect
some autographs. I was honoured to be asked to sign the page containing a 1965
advert for the Knees single.
Trevor Sturgess was present with his trusty camera and tape machine and he and
Fluff had arranged to collar Messrs. Cash and Skues at an appropriate moment,
to conduct a joint interview. The only relatively quiet spot they could find was
outside the theatre on the front steps. I went along to interject a few questions
of my own and to take some photos. Unfortunately, by being outside, we ended up
missing a second wave of on-stage speeches which nobody had warned us was coming.
When we went back inside the theatre, Fluff was just about in time to record the
remaining speeches. Then the Emperor lead the assembled Anoraks in singing the
final Wonderful Radio London jingle, and it was over. Suddenly, chairs were being
stacked away and people were spontaneously turning into pumpkins.
Die-hard revellers retired to the Royal Hotel, where many of them were staying.
Having decided to follow Lil's advice and 'live this weekend where the action
is,' Fluff and I joined them.
Many patellas present were, by now, in advanced states of inKNEEbriation. This
was the venue where the pair belonging to Chris Elliot were finally exposed for
my approval, and I'm pleased to report, they did conform to the high standard
required of KC members. As Chris was never seen in shorts, his poor knees must
have been gasping for air for weeks. I had been concerned that I might be obliged
to alert the RSPCK, but Chris assured me he had set them free at night to roam
the decks of the Yeoman Rose while nobody else was about.
The Cashman was astonished that I'd managed to keep the spirit of the Knees Club
alive for all these years, and highly amused by my story that I'd originally gone
out with Fluff because I'd discovered he possessed a recording of the Kenny/Cash
Show. Although I forgot to ask Dave about the scarf, I did get him to confirm
something that I'd believed to be correct but had no evidence beyond my own, less-than-reliable
memory. I was pleased to discover that my grey matter had not failed me this time.
The 'Kenny and Cash on London' jingle had, indeed, been performed by the Walker
Brothers.
I believe it was around 3.00am when we left. I seem to recall someone doing a
spontaneous Bulova time-check as the hands of the clock hit the top of the hour.
 |
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Keith
West |
The Roman Rulers – Jan, Debbie and Mark – meet Tom Danaher |
 |
Dave Cash has a close encounter with a strange flower
child |
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Mark Roman introduces Keith Skues, Ben Toney, Dave Cash, Duncan
Johnson, (behind Dave), Tommy Vance, Dave Hawkins, Tom Danaher, (behind
Tom, John Edward) and Ian Damon |
Thanks to Raquel and Ben Toney for the use of their photos.
Chris and Mary