For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Chubby cherub blamed (02.09.11)

As any fireman will tell you there is a myriad of causes attributable to the origin of a fire and in the aftermath of The Great Fire of London dozens of theories were put forward. We blamed the French – as always – in the guise of a deranged silversmith, Robert Hubert, who confessed and was promptly executed, it was discovered afterwards that he had arrived in the country two days after the conflagration. William Lilly, a famous astrologer, was next in the frame having predicted a major fire in the previous year; he only just managed to save his neck by persuading a special committee of the House of Commons of his innocence. Next, the Catholics were accused, they were always a popular whipping boy since the Reformation, and no doubt the Jews were also held to blame.

Now we have strayed into the blaming culture for one simple reason, this week, based on around 20 years of historic data, a study published in The Lancet claims that by 2030 as many as 48 per cent of British men could be obese. Why you might ask has this anything to do with a fire nearly 350 years ago? Well bear with me on that one.

As you might imagine the City Fathers thought long and hard about the fire’s cause and the destruction of their city and decided to erect in Cock Lane, which it was claimed was at the western limit of the fire’s destruction, this little statute. The Boy on Pye Corner was deliberately made fat (although by modern standards he appears just a little chubby) to add emphasis to its inscription:

The Boy on Pye Corner was erected to commemorate the staying of the Great Fire which beginning at Pudding Lane was ascribed to the sin of gluttony when not attributed to the Papists as on the Monument.

So there you have it, junk food was to blame.

Curiously the original building on this site, which was demolished in 1910, upon which the Boy was placed, was a pub called The Fortunes of War and was favoured by the resurrection men who sold corpses to the anatomists at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital opposite. The corpses fresh from road, river, grave and hangman’s noose or just murdered were exhibited in an upstairs room by the landlord, labelled with the finder’s name and presumably with a suitable price attached.

The name of the alley – Cock Lane – was first recorded in 1200, and probably signified a lane where fighting cocks were reared and sold. In the late Middle Ages Cock Lane was the only place north of the Thames where brothels were legally sanctioned, handy is if your cabbie refuses to go south of the River.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

The New Centurions (23.08.11)

Now before you start reading today’s little missive I must add a cautionary note. If you haven’t reached your thirtieth birthday my words of wisdom will have no relevance in your life and I suggest you just chat amongst yourselves for the next five minutes.

According to the latest research, no doubt funded by the insurance companies who stand to gain from its results, one in five of us currently living in Britain is likely to survive beyond the age of 100. That should mean if purchasing term life insurance your premiums would be lower – which they’re not – and if you are a silver surfer your pension annuity would give you less – which it does.

I didn’t sign up for this kind of nonsense, my granny lived to be 97; when she was a young woman the Wright Brothers made their first flight and before she died had watched a man land on the moon. In her day the “experts” regarded 67 as your life’s expectancy, but many of her generation died in the trenches of the First World War and many more had their lives shortened by their experience of warfare, so much for their sixty-sevens worth.

The biblical notion of three score years and ten might have had some relevance in the Middle East 2,000 years ago (my bet is that most workers just managed one score year and ten), but today another score should be added to our longevity prediction.

If in 2047 I were still active, independent and financially viable (all three, of course, two out of three is not acceptable), then I suppose I could live with it, but that possibility seems increasingly unlikely.

Politicians have realised this and deferred our pensions, at the same time reducing the number of years they need to clock up to receive their own full Parliamentary pension.

With NHS resources stretched to the limit, let alone when we baby boomers become octogenarians or older, is extended old age something we will have to live with in the future, or will future administrators decide that in global terms resources are being wasted on the old and corrective measures are necessary? The realities of Soylent Green and Logan’s Run are beginning to seem less outrageous as the years march on. I can’t see myself in 2047 negotiating London’s streets in my cab, mind you I’ll be lucky to find my way to the toilet at 100. While most of us without gold-plated pensions will find they’re minuscule after 35 years of retirement.

So 20 per cent. of us will get a letter from the King (or Queen you never know), but will be unable to reach down to the doormat and pick it up?

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Ruling the airways (19.08.11)

Research recently published has concluded that our attention span nowadays could be limited to Just A Minute before our minds are distracted; so to make my point Today this post is limited to take about 60 seconds to read.

In this Material World of gizmos and gadgets; Facebook, Twitter and blogs Any Questions on any subject or an opinion expressed are expected to be answered within our short memory span.

Television is as much to blame as social media; why after the interminable adverts do they feel the need to reiterate what we have just watched? After all, you have just been sitting in a Front Row seat in your living room with no distractions from the images appearing on your plasma screen.

In a previous age information was passed on by Word of Mouth a farmer as depicted daily on The Archers would take time to explain to future generations the wealth of his knowledge; a fisherman before leaving harbour would know The Shipping Forecast by taking time to observe the cloud formations; and In Business training for between 6 to 10 years was the norm to ensure a skilled workforce.

Now we have the unremitting tendency to patronise, putting everything into bite-sized chunks of Quote-Unquote.

The World At One can tune into Dave (as if he was the oracle of all knowledge) and watch the same programme that was transmitted three hours earlier; am or PM it’s the same reality television or makeover programme even the same adverts just in case you have forgotten their important message.

Thinking Allowed is not now practised for it would seem that mothers who previously might devote a Woman’s Hour with their daughter by passing on her wisdom and experience, imparting advice via a text message seem the order of the day.

Well, last week we received (in bite-sized chunks) the heartening news that intelligent audiences are turning increasingly to the radio for their information and entertainment with listening figures for many Radio 4 programmes at an all-time high. This is encouraging for when on 30th September 1929 John Logie Baird broadcast Britain’s first television programme from a building in Long Acre his invention was predicted to kill wireless broadcasting stone dead. In Our Time the brainchild of Tim Berners-Lee ultimately was forecast by wiz-kids to change our listening habits, well they thankfully have been proved wrong.

The intelligent medium of radio, which leaves so much more to our imagination – even if your humble scribe feels like telling Melvin Bragg “I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue” to his discussion on the Hundred Years War – has given the programme-makers 30 minutes to try to explain the subject.

On Radio 4 you’ll find no chopping and changing between segments of two-and-a-half seconds each; no adverts (hardly necessary with a £3 billion-a-year dowry); and no regurgitation of the same footage shown 10 minutes previously.

At least for the time being on FM it is still possible to listen to someone speak uninterrupted – without hesitation, deviation or repetition – for an entire minute. About the same time, it’s taken you to read this post.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Eyes forward (16.08.11)

Driving a London cab gives you a panoramic view both of the roads and into other drivers’ vehicles as they stop beside you and it was with that advantage a couple of years ago that I noticed that some prestige cars not only had a built-in Sat-Nav but that the same screen could show a video.

I found that surprising, as my understanding of traffic law was that any monitor must not be visible to the driver; somehow the car manufacturers had managed to circumvent the regulations by ensuring that the device turned off the image when the car moved forward. So that was alright then! Watch TV while sitting at the lights, rather than watching any jaywalking pedestrians, and once your top-of-the-range limousine reaches 5mph you can concentrate on your driving.

This was followed by putting monitors on the back headrests in the manner of an aircraft, anyone who has children must have felt that that was a Godsend, who hasn’t tried to drive with the kids in the back bored and nagging? Every parent knows the stupefying effect that television has on the young – and not so young – so moving images just inches from their noses would keep them quiet all day.

But now not content with a myriad of distractions: Radio (DAB, FM, MW LW); CD players; i-pod compatible; Sat-Navs; even staring at the 2-inch screen of an iPhone, more and more I see drivers watching TV as they drive for unlike their expensive counterparts, the cars they seek to emulate, its image doesn’t turn off while the vehicle is on the move. So with one eye on the road, they can watch the latest music video or shoot-em-up flick.

If a driver was foolish to talk on his mobile phone whilst driving he could expect three points on his license and a £60 fine, but I’ve yet to read of anyone prosecuted for watching the latest Lady Gaga album whilst driving through London’s congested streets.

The wider question must be is that how can anyone watch a television programme or movie with the distractions of driving? How can they watch anything in bite-sized chunks? Do they only have the attention span of the time it takes the light to return back to green or is it that they are so addicted to the moving image it doesn’t really matter what is showing as long as something appears on that little screen?

There have been numerous studies on our television habits. In May last year, the Broadcasters’ Audience Research Board found that viewers were watching more television than ever before, concluding that the average number of hours each person spends in front of the television each week has risen by more than 8 per cent. to 30 hours and 4 minutes. Thinkbox, the British marketing body for commercial broadcasters, defended this rise by stating that the greater choice offered by digital television, new technologies such as digital recorders, and on-demand services and yes, it’s been blamed again, the recession is encouraging people to spend more time at home. Watching of television whilst driving apparently did not enter their radar.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Jack The Lad (12.08.11)

The term “lovable rogue” has been applied to many crooks over the years, most are just unpopular villains, but one from the 18th century remains known to us even today, in fact so great was his popularity over one-quarter of London’s population came to his execution.

John Shepherd known to all as Jack was a fairly diminutive chap at 5’4” and was by all accounts very strong for his size. Born in 1702 in Spitalfields he was Christened with some haste due to his frail condition at St. Dunstan’s. At six years old he was apprenticed to a cane chair maker, which didn’t last, but later following in the footsteps of his father he took up an apprenticeship as a carpenter; he was probably only accepted as his mother’s current lover had taught him to read and write.

Leaving his employer after five years he took up with a bad lot at a pub in Drury Lane called the Black Lion and would frequent an area, now developed as the London School of Economics, called Clare Market frequented at that time by prostitutes and later would become the centre for pornography.

He made friends with a criminal called Joseph “Blueskin” Blake and Jonathan Wilde known as the Thieftaker General. Wilde led a double life and was high up in what purported to be the police force at that time, he also led a group of thieves who would steal property and then he would return the stolen goods to the rightful owners for a fee. He also met a prostitute Elizabeth Lyon known to all as Edgeworth Bess who was, not to be ungallant, a woman with a fuller figure.

In 1723 Jack – who by that time had given up his apprenticeship and was partial to a drink – stole two silver spoons from the Rummel Tavern at Charing Cross. He was caught and put into St. Giles Roundhouse a prison that was situated near modern-day Seven Dials.

So far nothing unusual, hundreds of small-time crooks in London must have taken the same road to the hangman’s noose at that time.

Jack was somewhat different and would have put Houdini to shame. He overcame his first incarceration by breaking through the cell’s timber ceiling and fashioned a rope from sheets with which he shimmed down while still wearing his leg irons.

He was rearrested two years later for picking pockets in Leicester Fields (known today as Leicester Square). This time he was sent to New Prison in Clerkenwell. When later Edgeworth Bess came to visit him he broke out of prison ending up on the roof, from there jumping down into an adjacent building only to find himself in Bridewell Prison next door, this time he climbed a 22ft wall while still manacled and helped Buxom Bess along the way.

Later after being plied with a copious amount of alcohol Bess disclosed to the authorities Jack’s whereabouts, he was duly arrested and this time sentenced to death and put into Newgate. This time he loosened the bars of his window and escaped dressed as a woman. He then went into exile on Finchley Common, but Jack really was Jack The Lad and liked having money, drink and a woman on each arm.

He came back into London and was rearrested, and put back into Newgate. This time he found himself in “The Castle” which was a prison within a prison and was thought by the authorities to be impregnable. He was clapped in leg irons and chained to two metal staples attached to the stone floor. He escaped again climbing up a chimney and scaling a 60ft wall making his escape via six barred doors. Back outside a crowd formed upon hearing of yet another escape and while still in leg irons he diverted their attention by claiming to see somebody on the roof.

Thinking himself untouchable he was at large for two weeks before he broke into Rawlings a pawnbroker in Drury Lane. There he stole a number of items including a fashionable black silk suit which he proceeded to put on and went out on the lash. So conspicuous was he that inevitably he was arrested and put in the “Middle Stone Room” of Newgate and this time loaded with 300lbs of iron weights.

Loved for his escapology people pleaded for commuting his death sentence to deportation but to no avail. Taken by cart from Newgate, a journey that could take two hours, he was plied with drink along the way. At one hostelry, the City of Oxford on modern Oxford Street they gave him a pint of sherry.

When London’s population was estimated at 700,000 an audience of over 200,000 turned up for his execution. He did not die immediately as his diminutive frame was too light to allow the rope to break his neck. After 15 minutes the crowd surged forward wanting a memento of Jack which prevented his friends from cutting him down, and trying to resuscitate him.

Buried at the recently rebuilt St. Martin’s in the Fields he was known in his time as Jack The Lad and Gentleman Jack and has had over the years a huge following in popular culture. Painted while in Newgate by Sir James Thornhill the Serjeant Painter to the Crown [see illustration]; the Beggar’s Opera is loosely based on his life; he has been the subject of two silent films; and Christopher Hibbert wrote The Road to Tyburn based on his life. More recently the 1969 film starring Tommy Steele Where’s Jack was also an adaptation based on Jack’s colourful life.