Gangs of New Pork

Growing up in Leighton Buzzard you were never more than a stone’s throw from a gravel pit or a light fingered girl who worked in the second’s department of Gossards. So you paid your money and took your choice to get into ladies underwear or breaking rocks. We were so hard that we got are hair cut at an old butchers shop run by Mr Pantlin. Tony Curtis pictures lured you in to his floor to ceiling tiled shop where he would set about and butcher your hair while you counted sheep and swine glazed pictures from his single poultry chair. Some of our gang, who claimed they were as hard as nails couldn’t stomach this initiation ceremony and turned their back on the hard man image and meat and aspired to become a member of the Barron Knights gang from the other end of town.

Many years later confessing that they had failed the medical and complaining that Duke D’Monds hands were too cold.


I think these early choices may explain a lot!