Oi, Oi! Saveloy!

The Embassy played host to a pop legend last night; Chas and Dave are a British pop institution having been around for the best part of thirty five years and Chas Hodges at 67 with his trademark sunglasses still looks like Jerry Garcia. Their sound harked back to the glory days of music halls, pianos in pub corners and the birth of rock 'n' roll. Originally a session bass player - he owned the first electric bass in north London - Chas's thumping chopstick jazz piano  reminded me of my own glory days. It was quite a buzz to hear Chas Hodges on his own - Dave left the duo last year after his wife's death and "'e ain't fond of flyin' mate'" The bass player would have looked more at home standing menacingly outside an East End nightclub. '...yer carn't come in 'ere, my son'....
Everybody over 50 has heard of them, evidenced by the frontstage crowds, some of whom still remembered the actions to the White Hart Lane anthem (Come on, you Spu-u-urs!) and "Snooker Loopy".
Bean Counter and I bawled the lyrics of "London Girls" "Margate" "Rabbit" "Gertcha!" and "The Sideboard Song" (you have to listen to this...) into each other's ears, both of us clearly having had something of a misspent youth in that over thirty years on we both remembered most of the words. Mrs Bean Counter got down and dirty with the other stagefront groupies.
Despite the amicable divorce between Uncle Jack Daniels and I, the alefest with over forty British beers which accompanied the gig whispered seductively to me. But, no. It's one thing to sing old songs, quite another to fall over whilst doing so. Went home and popped a couple of Tylenol - seemed to have quite a headache. That'll teach me to stand a bit further away from the speaker stack next time, but the craic was mighty, nonetheless.