Stewpot

From the last-but-one edition of the The Rocking Vicar‘s newsletter, Danny Baker reviews The Worst Memoir In Showbiz History:

[Review excerpted from the newsletter and quoted in full because past editions of the newsletter don't appear to be available online. Reformatted slightly to improve readability.]

Hold onto your hats everyone. We live in epic times. I read last night in one pop-eyed sitting Ed Stewart’s (nee Mainwaring) new autobiography “Out Of The Stewpot”.

Now I presume as our passions appear to run so parallel that you Vic also are a collector of fatuous empty and bitter showbiz memoirs. Well, cats and kittens, we have a winner. Yes, everything you’d expect from “Out Of The Stewpot” is here writ large on every page -

“…(my) association with Sunshine Club Of Great Britain has continued for many years. Anyone reading this who remembers sending in Green Shield Stamps to my show should today enjoy a warm glow of satisfaction knowing they helped with such a worthwhile cause. And that’s what giving to charity is all about isn’t it?” (Page 179)

“…I have become blase about all the celebrities I have met. However sometimes very special guests dropped bya Radio One. Those of us lucky enough to be invited will never forget the day Princress Margaret came to visit BH. (…) When it came time for her to go I saw my chance and blurted out “Your Highness, I know your daughter has a birthday coming up. Might we play a request for her on Junior Choice?” Her Lady-In-waiting gave me a look that said “Such impudence!” but Her Highness just smiled and…(heave, hurl etc)…” (P.183)

“(On soccer supporting) I often used to exhalt the lads to “Set ‘em alight Chelsea!”. One day in 1970 I was wearing a rabbit skin coat at Stamford Bridge and suddenly smelled burning. The people behind were sitting there innocent as could be but, before I could find the culprit, the flames began to take hold and I was forced to rush to the bar and douse my coat in water. “Set ‘em alight” had been taken quite literally! It caused great mirth at the time but, with the events at Bradford still to come some years later, it makes you realise how innocent jokes can quickly turn to tragedy…” (P.143)

Naturally every page is soaked in this vile trite bilge. (Notably though, for an ex pirate radio DJ and BBC pop picker throughout the most tumultuous times in youth culture not a single mention of any meetings with pop stars at all) However it is in his love life that we are given the most pause.

“I met my wife when she was 13, in 1970…” P.146 (He was 34 at this point)

“…my wife started on my stomach – and nothing else! – when she was 13…” P.147

“I arrived (at her parents) at 7pm and was greeted at the door by what I can only describe as a 13 year old apparition! She was simply stunning.” (P147)

“…(the following year, so 14 now) I travelled to Italy to see her. I had just split from Eve Graham of The New Seekers and so, as the song goes, I was “Free Again”! P153 He marries the poor girl when she is 17. Elsewhere -

“We played a charity football match at a girls’ school in Lingfield. After the match we visited some of the boarders, who were mostly epileptic. The pupils had just reached puberty and the girls wouldn’t let us out of the dormitory. We had to be rescued by the staff!” (P 177)

Oh its a belter alright. Empty, presumptuous, blowsy and bitter. (The book ends with him today, alone, with his whining thumb up his useless arse, raging against regional accents on the BBC). And consider this Vic. When you or I get to 66 years old and might, in a drunken orgy of self congratulation actually toy with penning something for the ages about our brief flit across these shifting sands – how much space shall we allow to that one edition of “Celebrity Weakest Link” we pitched up on. A line? A mention in the fulsome notes at the back? Try NINE FUCKING PAGES! Nine fucking pages in a large print volume devoted to who said what on an edition of “The Weakest Link”. That’s a full life examined alright, Stewpot! I swear I got through two complete highlighter pens. wendy had to call me five times for dinner. Me! For dinner! Five times! He also takes a couple of pages to reflect on what records truly sum up the 60s for him. Listing both “A Walk In The Black Forest” and “I’ve Got You Under My Seasons” by The Four Skins (possibly vice-versa) he adds his comments on a range of others, ie, I Got You Babe by Sonny & Cher “A song which could have only come from the sixties. Cher has turned out to be a great survivor.” and Groovin’ by The Young Rascals: “Being a bit of a rascal myself I can well visualise the lyrics to this one – “grooving with a young lady on a Sunday afternoon.” Or was it a Tuesday? Who cares!” and A Day In The Life by The Beatles: “Last record played on Radio London. Personally I could never stand those loud bits in the middle and at the end and still can’t. But it was the end of an era – so mustn’t grumble!”

I am making none of this up. I have added nor edited a word. I trust I have intrigued you quite enough but, I assure you, there’s more. Oh so much more. As soon as it reaches the 49p bins (ie June) – stock up. Come Xmas it’ll be 5,000 on eBay. (“Out Of The Stewpot or 60 Years A Prick” is published by John Blake and is priced £17 fucking 99)