SOFT PLAY - PUNK'S DEAD

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Punk Beijing

What can I say...

This blog wouldn't exist without Punk. I was too young be one in 1976, and certainly too Catholic. Fast forward to 1999 and one of my newest and closest friends (professional troublemaker) Blue Doran sat me down in his Bangkok apartment over bottles of Sangsom and underneath his vintage movie poster collection (Midnight Cowboy and Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid) draping the walls, he explained Punk to me from his first hand experience of following the Sex Pistols around as a fifteen year old from Worcester, and my mind was blown. I got the concept, I got the sizzle and I got the history all in one night, from a living witness and nothing was ever the same again. By coincidence my daughter's Aunty was a punk inspired designer in Thailand with the widely loved Scotch-Soda clothing brand.

Perhaps it is fitting then that this designer, often styled ironically in pin curls and pearls, and so involved with the pop cultural desecration and modern rebrand of British heritage, should depart in the same year as the woman whose image she once helped lance with a safety pin.

On one of my returns to the UK I stayed with Rob, my former design lecturer at Uni, and he had a very expensive Vivienne Westwood collection for both himself and his partner. 

She tossed her prezzies out when they separated and Rob mentioned it was about 20 grands worth. That's just the stuff she was given. Back in the 90's she also refused a chance to be a model for one of the Vivienne Westwood collections. Super Croydon girl is Audrey (went to school with Kate Moss), totally grounded and couldn't give a shit about any attention seeking lifestyle. In a way that's about as punk as it gets.

While at Robs we took the opportunity to go and see Vivienne's retrospective at the Victoria & Albert museum and that's when I really got into her work. He also gave me Jane Mulvagh's biography of Vivienne, An Unfashionable Life, to read. It's a really good book and provides a bit more dispassionate granularity than most biographies.

Raised in Derbyshire from working class stock, Ms Westwood established LET IT ROCK with Malcolm 'Svengali' McLaren on the Kings Road. I dare say Tavistock were all over the show, without even letting them know. Nobody wants to talk about that so let's roll on. After leaving the rock (let it rock, black rock, tavistock... quarry men then the rolling stones and G Brethren and so on and so forth).

I can't let it go

Vivienne Westwood did not feel pretty as a child, but while roaming a wood near the family home in Derbyshire she dreamt of becoming a beautiful wood fairy.

“I daydreamed that I would be walking in this wood and I would have this little house under these tree roots. I would have this fantastic dress and just come upon one or two little boys that I knew and they would just really be impressed by this dress. I always had this idea that some day I could make myself better.”

In a way it's Tolkienesque right? 

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. 

Next thing, we're in Rivendell

Perfect

All around the alleged globe, the British don't quite understand that of course the people are loved, but the empire?

... nah... the international community want to punch the football into the net like Maradona, unless it's filling Kiev's MuthaWEFFer pockets or the EU or the WHO or do I really need to continue?

If you consider yourself British (i'm a space mongrel) I can assure you there's lot's of British historiography around the world (all over the world)

She may have come to fashion designing at the comparatively late age of 33. 

Vivienne as it were.

You will only see two British iconographies from the slums of Rangoon to the Showrooms of Beijing. 

Those are Bentley Motors & Punks

All strata of society around the world know those two and till recently the Queen and the Beatles.

Prove me wrong

Toxic Prurience

Freer & Blue in Cambodia

It's been a few years now so I don't mind publishing these private emails as the lesson still applies today for those with ears to hear, and eyes to see.

My good friend Peter Doran in Bangkok was a self-made multi-millionaire. He was striking to look at, tough as hell and stricken with the most aggressive bouts of violent depression.

He was a dangerous man to be around, but he was also one of the most generous, funny and clever people I ever met. I considered him to be an older brother, but from time to time it came at great expense.

I recall once he was pissed off with his brother Johnnie who had left for New York and decided to stitch him up by finding out some hotel details of a client/friend who was staying at The Conrad in Bangkok. Earlier that day he had tried to overdose and I was starting my new job as Planning Director at Dentsu Bangkok. It was literally my first day and so I could only help by calling another friend (Frank Duvi) to go check up on Pete or Blue as we called him. 

As there was no answer from his bedroom, I instructed Frank to break down the door, a job he was capable of as a former French foreign legionnaire and Muay Thai boxer.

Anyway, after work, I headed over to Blue's and that's when he decided to take me for a drink down The Conrad in the Diplomat bar, a place I frequented regularly, he pulled out a scrap of paper with the room number of his brother's friend, and proceeded to order a 1500 pounds sterling bottle of champagne on that rooms tab.

I was frozen with fear, as it was clear Blue was in a mess from his earlier suicide attempt, and he didn't look particularly credible with a scrap of paper reading the room number out to the barwoman. Anyway, she took the order and delivered the champagne in an ice bucket wrapped in immaculate white napkins. We drank it and then we left to head over to Patpong GoGo bars. I only breathed a sigh of relief when we got in the cab. My next visit to that bar was very uncomfortable, as the kindly barwoman recognised me, but didn't say anything. It was not my order but I was complicit.

In any case the reason I am bringing up Blue is that he had access to a mutual friend's email account and he had made a habit of reading all his private emails on a regular basis for a couple of years. That is until, as you can see above, he forwarded me an email one day, thinking I'd understand it was not him but being forwarded, but instead I blew his cover by responding to our mutual friend as if the email was meant for me.

Blue was very angry with me, our friend Tim Ramos the owner of the email account who was a multi-millionaire sex-addict retiree from Hawaii was mad at me, thinking I'd colluded with Blue although I had done nothing but respond to that forwarded email which was quite insulting and so my reply was caustic, to say the least.

Anyway, the purpose of this post is to share that when the dust had settled, Blue admitted that having access to Tim's email had been corrosive and had fed an obsession that had become toxic to him in the end, as any addicted snooper and peeping tom will reveal when asking how and why their prurience had affected them.

I live a fairly open life and try not to have any secrets, because I know that it's your secrets that kill you in the end. 

I eat, shit, fuck, smoke, fart and wank like the old bachelor I am who prefers not to copulate with ladies just for the sex, as I feel it's damaging to be in a fake relationship, (although I'm always on the lookout for someone special). Lady luck is always a possibility.

I have found that those who obsess over me, are always the same, and have recurring observable traits. 

Insanely jealous, insecure and inveterate liars who have no grasp that some of us don't lie for convenience. 

Snoopers are the meconium of the universe, and that applies to Pete's email 'hacking' and to anyone else who lives vicariously.

Get a life. 

Mine is already taken.

I'm A Closet Globalist

I'm a globalist but not that kind of Globalist.

Update: The original video was deleted/censored. Has you-ai heard of dlive.tv ? 

That Racist Charles Frith

Trouble at mill

I just found out that maybe the last two weeks posts didn't make it out to you through Dynamo London's post over here. It has to be down to me meddling with Feedburner (Does this mean I'm a geek?) a while back and if it wasn't for them or Sam I'd be posting away oblivious to the technical problems. I hoped I've fixed it but you could do me no better a favour than leave a comment or drop me a mail here if this post feeds your RSS reader. That would be great. Thanks

The Grey Market

History of Blogging

From Rinaz

testing if pics can be attached too email blog posts :)

--
Charles Frith
+44 792 3448067

'America is not at war, The Marine Corps is at war, America is at the mall'

Substandard

Sorry about the quality of picture but I was so angry I was probably shaking the camera with when I took it on the (ahem) subway. Anyway it says "Try our authentic sweet chilli chicken subs"

I've always thought that Subway make a sub standard sandwich, like its done the sub way or something, but they've particularly pissed me off with this kind of advertising which is every reason why our profession is viewed as on a par with politicians and snake oil salesmen. The sheer subterfuge of selling a sandwich that has fuck all to do with Thailand apart from a couple of cents worth of substitute generic sweet chilli sauce really pisses me off.

Bread and all the fillings inside this Turd de Blanc have nothing to do with the Thai diet and if you are under the impression that you've gone all ethnic by eating this nonsense then I can assure you that the only thing authentic about this torpedo are the plastic sachets of sweet chilli sauce most often found in Western fast food outlets in Thailand.

If you want to see a real agency talk about Subway I suggest you take two minutes to check out this incredible video.

Update: I managed to take some better snaps last night. Discover Thailand my ass.

Update: Subway are to remove Yoga Mat chemicals from their bread.

Digital Backflips

NFGman

Well most of you know that I'm heading to the Wild East again and before I go I want to thank y'all. I've truly never met a more interesting and friendly bunch of people than in London this time round. It's been my fourth stay in our shining example of a multi-ethnic and cohesive metropolis that I love so much. I'll also miss the insanely rich architecture, chunky history, spectacular food, argy bargy pubs and most of all, you lot.

Sadly for me, but brilliant for you (hurrah), there will be internet restrictions for me in the future and this will probably mean less activty in doing what I love more than posting here, which is leaving comments on your blogs. It will also mean that this gaff will have less frequent posting and probably slow as hell comment moderation so I ask that you all kindly bear with me on being slow to respond or reciprocate in any digital way please? I'd really appreciate that and while Cocomment isn't as good as it used to be it's still the best at keeping an eye on incoming or outgoing comment activity.

But this is important to me because a blog is for life and not just for Christmas..... (chuckles)

OK I'm laying it on a bit but I'm quite fond of a little melodrama and it doesn't really work in Asia so cut me some slack this once. I'll be travelling quite lot, and able to post freely in the countries that aren't afraid of Blogger, Typepad and Wikipedia to name a few.

I also wouldn't be too harsh on countries that are still growing into the 21st century. You know, if we think about say the Balkans conflict, and multiply that by thousands, you get the big picture why a country cannot always give its people the full freedoms that we are so lucky to enjoy here in the West without it turning into a freaking mess. If indeed that liberty applies to the United States anymore, where as far as I can see even my educated and progressive American friends daren't say anything in the digital domain against the current regime in power. You know, stuff like invading another country for oil, lying about the motives for it, and all executed after one of the most questionable election victories in U.S. political history which we all forgot about because of that convenient terror terror terror terror terror (are you bored yet?) terrorist act. I say convenient because its not like the agenda was kept a secret or anything, by the well known names who signed the bottom of this declaration in 1997.

Anyway, many of you know that I have a deep affection for the United States. I grew up under its benevelont, generous and protectful arm during the Wirtschaftwunder of post war Germany. So its not through bitterness but sadness that I'm stirred up a bit like this. Particularly when the finger pointing begins about who fights hardest to secure the freedom which only ever really resides in our minds. Or as Ben Franklin put it best 'Anyone that is willing to sacrifice freedom for safety, deserves neither".

But getting back on track, the reason for this post is that its my first test post via email (and thus mobile phone...Kaching!). If you can can all bear with me while I go through lots of experimentation and make plenty of mistakes I expect to see Punk Planning looking a bit shabbier regarding formating or even just making much sense, while I play with the settings so that I can continue to break censorship rules. Because y'all know I'm fond of breaking rules right?

(sent via email with my standard signature below)

"The east shall shake the west awake
And ye shall have night for morn"

- James Joyce / "Finnegan's Wake"

America is not at war, the Marine Corp is at war. America is at the Mall