Posted by: The Prince of Whales | January 4, 2010

Tolkien and The Hells Angels


Tolkien and The Hells Angels

The week is off to an interesting start.

Thanks to Martin Mullaney, our local Councillor and currently the City of Birmingham’s Chief of Culture, I was on local radio this morning talking about Tolkien. The celebrated author would have been enjoying his 118th birthday yesterday if, he could have benefitted from the magic of one or two of his characters. Tolkien spent some of his formative childhood years in Moseley and in his late teens would sneak away from the catholic fathers in Edgbaston to meet up with his girlfriend Edith. In the back room of The Prince, they were to do their courting so, in tribute, a few of us gathered in the pub and drank a toast “to The Professor”.

Having talked this through “on air” with breakfast time listeners of BBC’s WM Radio, Just one of our regulars!

Our most famous pipe smoking customer!

I wondered out of the studio and into the coffee shop across the mall, desparate for a cappucino. “Hello Keith” chirped a cheeky chappy type voice as a I walked past the tables outside. Well I’ll be dammed, it was London Stan (name changed to protect the innocent) … one time, well known regular of The Prince and supplier of most things dodgy. Flat screen TV’s, cigs, baccy, power tools, you name it and Stan was your man! Strictly cash, no questions asked.

Just over a year ago, Stan suddenly disappeared. One of his deals had gone wrong and he was on the run; a wanted man through no fault of his own. Not wanted by the law, no that wouldn’t be such a problem. Rumours were rife. He had hanged himself; he had been murdered by the Hell’s Angels; he had left the country or more simply, moved to Halesowen.

There was an element of truth in all of this. Yes he had returned to the grave of his mother and swallowed a bottle of pills in the cemetary: but he didn’t quite take enough! He was rescued and survived only to be sectioned and confined to a mental hospital. Once he got his wits back, he escaped and is now on the run again, being persued by both men in white coats and a hoard of bikers.

“Keith, if I turn a corner and see a geezer with an arm full of tatooes and a syringe, I know I’m fucked! Know what I mean.”

Good luck London Stan.

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