"Don't Moan At Me, I Didn't Fucking Vote For 'em"

Hello, and a quick welcome back, I must say it’s fantastic to be back. Yes, after all that hard graft I am highly relieved yet slightly disillusioned to report that my uni life is finally over, just the ‘real world’ left to face now (apologies for that God-awful cliché).  One thing is for certain though; I'm glad to get out of Stoke-on-Stench for good.

Just another quick post and update before I eventually get back into the swing of things again. I’ve decided that I’ll definitely keep writing the blog, and expect I’ll be writing a lot more especially whilst I’m in the process of job hunting.

Anyway enough banging on about complete bollocks, I thought I’d share with you a short review I wrote for my Final Project after seeing Sham 69 live last month…

Jimmy Pursey has had his fair share of criticism since he formed Sham 69 back in 1976. Notoriously outspoken, the frontman has attracted all kinds of attention, both wanted and unwanted.  So when it was announced last year that the original line-up were reforming, critics and fans alike were keen to see whether they would live up to the hype which surrounded them originally.

They were not to be disappointed. Although never the most sophisticated of punk bands, Sham 69’s reasonably impressive guitar skills combined with boisterous yet infectious football chants, certainly makes their live appearances entertaining and after all these years, it appears to be an art which they have perfected.

Unsurprisingly, there’s no shortage of entertainment value tonight, as Pursey embarks the stage with a slight spring in his step and the room instantly livens up.  Despite seeming somewhat haggard in his appearance, he is full of beans and seemingly in a good mood, and as he launches into the anticipated Borstal Breakout, his energy and enthusiasm are present in abundance.

Ripping through what seems to be a brief set (given that the songs are so short in duration), the band captivate the audience, many of whom appear to be on a nostalgia trip as they start a small pit in the centre of the floor. However, it’s not just ageing punk fans who are here tonight; there are a few teenagers and even a couple of young children, sitting on their parent’s shoulders and sporting almost comically oversized band T-shirts.

“Everyone’s fucking moaning about the Tories…” Jimmy spits into the mic towards the end of the performance "But don’t moan at me, I didn’t fucking vote for ‘em”.  The frontman then throws himself into the catchy If the Kids Are United, whilst seemingly conducting the crowd and mockingly gesturing at them to sing louder.

Soon after there’s a half-expected cover of The Clash’s White Riot, reminiscent to the “good old days”; this gets everyone in the room attempting to relive their youth, with somewhat half-hearted pogoing spreading across the floor like wildfire. 

Ending the night on the awaited 1978 top 10 hit, Hurry Up Harry, it’s clear to everyone in the room that the whole band are genuinely glad to be back touring together. Despite the complicated underlying issues between the band and their legal battle with former band mates over who has the rights to the name; it’s fair to say that the future of the original Sham 69 line-up is safe, for now.

Shhh You're In A F***ing Library

Hi guys, just a really quick post whilst I’m attempting to power through both my final uni projects which seem to be taking up pretty much all my time at the moment.

Anyway last week I went down to London and was able to get to Mick Jones’ Rock & Roll Library exhibition, which was bloody amazing. It’s barely a tiny part of his huge collection, (I dread to think what his house is like) but there were some absolutely brilliant things there.

I’m aware that there’s pictures up on many sites across the web, but I figured you can’t have too much of a good thing especially when it comes to The Clash, so here’s a few pictures I took whilst I was there. Who knows, maybe you might even spot something you’ve not seen before.

Rumour has it that Mick is looking for a permanent place to showcase the entire exhibition, so let’s keep our fingers crossed that he manages to find somewhere real soon, will be fantastic to get chance to look at more of his stunning collection.

Disorganisation And Some Impressive Young Blood

It’s out of character for me to go and see a band without doing any prior research, but a gig I’d been invited to by a good friend come round a lot quicker than expected, and and my lack of preparation only became apparent on the day itself.

 The band I’m here to see are one of the support bands, and it’s probably the first time I’ve gone to a gig without knowing what the band actually sound  like. Admittedly it’s a bit of a gamble and could go either way, but my friend is full of praise about the band, which I take his word for.

The first support act are Nottingham band Swimming, who have already attracted quite a following, thanks to coverage in the likes of The Guardian and on the BBC website.

Quite bizarrely, throughout the set a surfing video is being projected onto the screen at the back of the stage. It’s similar to the sort of videos which get played in the back of Hollister, only I can’t smell that enticing air freshener they use - all I can smell is lager and stale weed.

A couple of songs in and I have to admit they demonstrate a pretty effective combination of keyboard and synths and the frantic drummer (coincidently better known as beatboxer and  live looper ThePetebox) is certainly a hell of a talented guy.

But the vocals are just too dull and melancholy for me, and if I’m perfectly honest I’ve heard it all before. Don’t get me wrong , I think the band are good at what they do and I can see people buying into this, but the lifeless swaying just doesn’t quite cut it for me, and to be honest at this point I am questioning what I’m doing here.

After a few minutes to digest the last performance Bad Apes, the band I’ve been waiting patiently for are up. As the buzzing three-piece embark the stage they have my undivided attention. My friend has been talking to them throughout the night - a group of unsuspecting young lads, joking and mixing with the audience whilst splitting a 6 pack of beer between themselves.  

I’m still anxious at this point, but then from the moment they launch into the opening song the whole place starts to liven up and it’s clear to see why. Frontman Joe flings himself around the small stage, energetically ripping into his guitar and throwing his powerful raw vocals over the well-constructed combination of the post-hardcore and punk sounds they are creating. 

I must admit I’m quite taken aback by the energy the band demonstrate, to be honest it’s not what I was expecting at all. It’s definitely the surprise I had been waiting for.

I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for three pieces, and it’s not something I’ve actually come across very often. It’s certainly a refreshing change to see a young band take on this formation, when there seems to be a number of bands just sticking 5 or even 6 people on a tiny stage and hoping for the best.

With them being the support act, it’s a short but effective set, and without a doubt what I’ve seen tonight I have been genuinely impressed by. Bad Apes certainly do look like a promising band .

Due to the usual bane of public transport I was only able to watch 20 minutes of Norwegian headline act The Megaphonic Thrift’s set, so it would be unfair to judge them without seeing them in full flair. What I can say is that they kind of remind me of British Sea Power, taking catchy and upbeat melodies and occasionally crossing them with heavier riffs and some impressive guitar solos.

So there you have it, the first gig I have attended without prior research into the band. Would I do it again? Well I’d like to think that it was just a one-off and I’ll definitely be more organised next time I go and see a local band. That being said, in hindsight it was certainly a great feeling to be pleasantly surprised and that is something I wouldn't mind experiencing again.

* Pictures courtesy of Jamie Boulton - questionsomething.com

She Was A Girl From Birmingham....

 “Best of f**king luck with it”

It was that John Lydon quote which drew me to the Sex Pistols Experience poster I was sticking up in a grotty takeaway in the heart of Birmingham. I’ve never seen a tribute band before, but I was intrigued as to what the Sex Pistols Experience would have to offer and with it being held at the venue I work for, I had little excuse not to go and find out for myself.

First up tonight are local band Dogs of War – a hardcore punk band whose frontman, PK is nothing short of psychotic. In fact throughout the whole set he barely spends a few seconds onstage, instead opting to frantically run around the room (occasionally even leaving it) whilst continuing with the vocals. Much to the barstaff’s bewilderment he even manages to energetically clamber over the bar, his Doc Martens just about gripping the slippery surface.

Dogs of War run through an array of songs such as Slags of Worcester but rather disappointingly, there are still a lot of people yet to arrive, and the room seems quite empty. PK doesn’t seem to be bothered by it though, continuing to practically throw himself at the walls of the venue, whilst running circles around the crowd who have bothered to turn up early.

Next up is Ed Tudor Pole. Now I’m just about old enough to remember those Thursday night’s spent watching The Crystal Maze when he presented it, and I can remember liking him purely for his eccentricity, (although being around 5, I didn’t know that was the reason at the time). Although he appears rather ragged and perhaps hasn’t stood the test of time too well, this eccentricity is still present as he embarks the stage tonight in his clichéd Who Killed Bambi shirt and tattered waistcoat.

By now, the room has started to fill, and there’s quite an array of people who have turned up tonight; the expected old punks, old blokes who I can imagine were punks years ago, older women, and most surprisingly a lot of teenagers. I try my hardest to not pass judgement on the latter though, (except for one hipster looking kid who forcefully bumps into me and fails to apologise. I smirk though as he wanders off dripping his pint down his beige chinos).

To be honest, I’ve actually heard quite bad things about Ed’s live performances of late, particularly on YouTube and the videos I’ve watched certainly don’t do him any favours. So I’m not really expecting that much from him, in fact if anything I feel a little awkward for the reception he’s going to get.

Sure enough the hecklers attempt to wind him up with unimaginative taunts of “Crystal Maze” echoing around the centre of the floor, but Ed laughs and takes it on the chin, and seems to win them round after a surprisingly decent acoustic performance of a few of his numbers including Wunderbar and of course Who Killed Bambi?

“I might see you later” he winks before leaving the stage, I think everyone in the room understands what he’s referring to with that statement.

After Ed’s performance I’m met by some bloke with quite awfully dyed red hair, he proceeds to tell me about his love for the Sex Pistols before veering off subject to show me pictures of his “missus and kids” before informing me that when his hair is blond he looks like Keith Lemon. I feign an interest and laugh nervously but he’s harmless enough, and even offers to get me a drink which I gratefully accept after already being down to my last three quid.

The headliners finally stroll on, and sure enough, they certainly look the part in their punk attire, but with the fake, slightly cheesy snarls I’m not quite won over yet. I’m unsure as to how this will go I know there’s a lot of questioning of authenticity, and an awful lot of scepticism as to how you can have a punk tribute band.

But as I start to take it all in, I realise that the atmosphere is the most appealing aspect of the gig. The old punks are gathered in the centre, quite frankly punching the shit out of each other, but they’re having a brilliant time and enjoying themselves and I guess that’s makes it authentic.

The band begin ripping their way through all the expected classics such as No Feelings, Holidays in the Sun, Pretty Vacant, EMI and (one of my personal favourites) Bodies. One of the old punks pipes up and begins shouting incoherently to which the reply from ‘Johnny Rotter’ comes “Yeah well we’re being paid to be cunts, you’re doing it for fucking zilch”. Laughter erupts amongst the crowd of what is now a pretty packed out venue.

Rotter disappears off the stage whilst ‘Kid Vicious’ takes turn with the vocals, performing My Way, Something Else and C’mon Everybody. More of the predicted banter is present from the crowd, “Oi, Sid you’ve put on weight, you fat cunt” being a popular choice for hecklers as it’s shouted several times.

As Kid’s set finishes, Ed returns to the stage to perform the awaited Swords of a Thousand Men. He’s livelier this time with it being a full band, and gives what I think is a much better performance than his acoustic set. He speeds through Who Killed Bambi for a second time, which again sounds better when being performed by an entire band, before leaving the stage to allow Rotter to return.

The crowd welcome back Rotter with more selective swearwords as he asks “who wants to hear the national anthem then?” before launching into God Save the Queen, rapidly succeeded by Anarchy in the UK to bring the gig to its climax.

The band disappear off the stage and crowd soon follow suit, (Keith Lemon guy hugs me as he leaves). By the end of the gig I’m pretty drunk and somehow get handed a couple of what can only be described as a Dame Edna Everage masks that have been kicking around the box office for a while. “C’mon shall we meet Ed?” I’m asked. “Why the fuck not?” comes my response.

* Pictures 1,2 & 3 courtesy Abi Flash

Romanticism vs Safety Pins

Good evening on this ‘happy day of futile mass consumerism’ so many people choose to celebrate. Yeah, you might’ve guessed I’d be against this seemingly insignificant excuse of trying to outdo others in mindlessly purchasing redundant gifts and greetings cards for a loved one.

As you probably know by now, I’d be lying if I said I’m not a cynic, however Valentine’s Day is a concept I have never truly understood, my main problem with it being that everything about it seems disposable and fake. From flowers, to homemade meals, to cheap chocolate and tacky greeting cards, (which at best will be kept in the bottom draw to gather dust) - let’s face it, most gifts are either going to rot in your guts or in the bin several days later.

Obviously there is nothing I can do or say on the matter which will change this, other than to take the nihilistic approach and attempt to deny its existence - a tactic which I have blatantly failed at this year, given the premise of this entire post.

Anyway, whilst taking my usual route of studying which involves distracting myself from uni work, I have passively compiled a short list of punk songs somewhat relating to (or even vaguely mentioning) love, in order to commemorate this day I am categorically not in favour of.  In no particular order (and off the top of my head) here’s a select few I’d recommend for others against this day.

Public Image Ltd – This is Not a Love Song

A self-explanatory and admittedly lazy choice made by me to feature this song, but nevertheless still a paramount example, despite it obviously not having love as the subject.

Stiff Little Fingers – Barbed Wire Love

A song Jake Burns regularly describes it as an attempt to throw all Stiff Little Fingers clichés together, Barbed Wire love features the mentioning of love in a ridiculously destructive yet slightly comical form 

Best line: ‘The night was rife with wasteland light, you set my arm alight.’

Patrik Fitzgerald – Safety Pin Stuck in my Heart

From Fitzgerald’s first EP, the self-proclaimed “love song for punk music” has to be one of my favourites.

Best line: ‘I don’t love you for your many reasons, propaganda, doctrines, treasons’.

The Clash- Ooh Baby Ooh

A studio outtake from Give ‘Em Enough Rope, Ooh Baby Ooh features the backing track which was later used for the infectious Gates of the West. It is also speculated to originally be an early song from Mick Jones’ London SS days. 

Best line: ‘But you threw my records down the stairs, put the phone out in the hall, so I can’t call.’

UK Subs – Rock ‘n’ Roll Whore

Taken from last year’s punk masterpiece Work In Progress, Rock ‘n’ Roll Whore once again raises the ever-pending question of how the fuck Charlie Harper can still pull it off after all these years?

January Round-Up & 5 Useless Things We Should Buy the Queen

First of all I must apologise for my lack of posts of late. It turns out the workload for final year is far more gruelling than I imagined. I’m actually producing a punk magazine for one of my projects, so if you have any specific tips or suggestions it’d be brilliant to hear via the comment button, or on Twitter. Oh and I must say thanks for all the support offered so far, it really is appreciated.

January always seems a bit of a strange month and a long one at that too. In terms of music, it appears that every band and its dog are making a comeback for 2012, and this week alone has already seen the announcement of a reformed New Order tour (without Hooky) and a new Garbage album. January also begins the festival jabber, from planning which to attend (Strummercamp & Rebellion for me this year) to all the speculation and endless predictions about the full line-ups.

As always it’s been a month full of bizarre news stories, many of which will be forgotten by around March time. From censorship vs copyright and the Wikipedia blackout, to the Gary Glitter on Twitter stunt, and of course that dreaded bloody yacht.

Yes, fuckwit Michael Gove proposing that the Queen should be bought a yacht for the 60^th Jubilee (suggesting that a private private donation could be sought if insufficient taxpayer funds were available) was my personal news highlight for January.

In fact the whole yacht fiasco got me thinking, if it could even be so much as contemplated that the taxpayer should buy her a boat, what other lavish items could we buy her? To exaggerate my point, I’ve compiled a short list of items we should all pitch in and pay for, some more useful than others.

1. An escape pod to the moon: I can’t believe an MP hasn’t suggested this before; if the apocalypse were to take place at the end of the year, surely the first thing we’d want to protect would be the Queen? Well, with this genius invention, at just the flick of a switch she’s be able to transport herself to the refuge of the moon. Maybe we could all chip in for the spacesuit too?

2. A pet Quagga: You can't give a more exotic gift than an extinct half-zebra half horse. It would surely be faster than your average racehorse, and I'm guessing it would be a lot more useful for playing polo too. 

3. State funerals for her Corgis: Unfortunately, there comes a heart-breaking time in every pet owner’s life when you have to say goodbye to a treasured pet. This of course is a woeful time and it is very common these days to hold a small ceremony to commemorate the loss. As a nation we could help ease the pain for our Queen during her difficult time, and fund a magnificent send off for her beloved animals should anything happen to them.

4. Her own bingo hall: This one is quite simple really; pensioners love bingo - imagine the fun she could have playing for hours on end. We could even throw in an extra tenner to add to the pot for her first winnings. 

5. A roller coaster: As age takes its hold, mobility problems become imminent, but the Queen deserves something far faster and more stylish than your average Stannah stair lift. She’s certainly a lot more active than most pensioners, and just think how much time she be able to save if she were to travel around the palace via the means of a roller coaster.

So there you have it, of course it’s open to suggestions…

I wonder how long it will take for MP’s to suggest more gifts similar to these?


Oh and on a final note, I'd like to dedicate this to the complete wanker that is Mr Redknapp Snr. Good luck with the rest of the trial Harry:

Opulence? Give Me Crap Towns & Some Bastard

This is probably a bit of a 'better late than never' post. I know we’re over two weeks into the New Year now, and I’m probably pushing it to start talking about band predictions for 2012, but tough shit really because I’m going to write about it anyway.

I’ve often thought to myself that if we didn’t have ‘crap towns’ British music wouldn’t be anyway near as good as it is. I mean name 3 or 4 decent bands from places like Milton Keynes or Oxford? This can transcribe across venues too, some of the best gigs I have been to have been in buildings which were structurally no better than an allotment shed. It’s in the gritty places, in the gritty cities where you can experience a far greater atmosphere than you’d ever experience when watching NME’s newest sell-outs within the clinical walls of corporate venues like O2 Academy, gritty cities like Newport.

It’s a funny old place is Newport. By day - a cultural wasteland, filled to the brim of disillusioned Poundland shoppers and young mothers screaming at their kids; But by night as the confined independent pubs and venues start to pack out you can really start to sample just how good the underground music scene of South Wales actually is.

Having always been curious of the city Joe Strummer once called home, over the past 4 years or so I’ve regularly found myself in Newport, witnessing some pretty exceptional gigs, from Manics at the Newport Centre to unsigned bands in the heart of the city, and it is one of these bands I wish to speak of now...

It’s a wet and windy Friday night back in November, in an extremely overcrowded Le Pub. Science Bastard are playing a free show in conjunction with the release of their debut album, and it’s clear they weren’t expecting so many people to turn up. Having read snippets of reviews on the band which can be found floating round in cyberspace, I was aware things could get a bit lairy, but no way near as lairy as I could have imagined.

A slightly odd crowd have shown up tonight, older blokes who’ve come down to get a sample of the music on offer (probably because it’s free) and (out-of-place looking) glammed up girls, who look like they’re ready to hit the clubs straight after the gig.

Le pub is very much an example of the aforementioned venues; a spit-and-sawdust place where the ceiling is held together with aged gig posters, where it rains indoors whilst a rusty bucket stands in the centre of the floor to catch the drops. – Just the way I like it.

Science Bastard hit the stage demonstrating a brash presence and the crowd are welcomed by chubby frontman Vern with “You should be at home watching Frozen Planet, not a fat cunt” before launching into a rather short but efficient setlist.

Vern powers through the set, packing all his energy into agitatedly screaming through lively tracks such as Pull Tiger Death Cord, Phil Collins and Trevor, occasionally slowing down at intervals for guitarist and occasional lead vocalist Jonny to take turn on the mic, offering a milder side to the post-hardcode four piece with songs such as All Watched Over By Machines of Loving Grace.

Just like I’d read in previous reviews, Jonny (a seemingly mild mannered fellow who I’d briefly joked with before the gig about the fact that there was footprints on the wall of the Travelodge room I was staying in) starts to get a bit frantic. The concentration on his face is clear, as he takes hold of his guitar and swings it violently around his head, narrowly avoiding smashing the skulls of several members of the crowd. As the gig reaches its crescendo it’s almost as if a switch has triggered in his head, as if he’s in some kind of frenzied trance. He trashes his guitar, shattering it into pieces.

The bewildered crowd turn to each other and a few eyebrows are raised, as they question what they just witnessed. Some are asking whether that’s it, but as Jonny storms off stage in the direction of the toilets, and the lights flicker back on the confusion quickly turns into applause. By the end of the gig, it’s hard to differentiate whether it is rainwater or actually sweat dripping from the ceiling, the overall musky smell doesn’t give much away.

But where can you go from there? Well after the album launch, the band have been gaining a decent amount of airplay on BBC Radio Wales, not to mention supporting Future of the Left at Cardiff’s Clwb Ifor Bach, with more gigs planned for 2012.

For me it’s the first time in ages I’ve witnessed a new band quite as raucous and controversial as Science Bastard - a band who look like they’d literally eat the fucking idiotic indie kids NME are churning out year after year. It’s bands like this who support my ‘crap towns’ theory; that there is no inspiration in opulence, and they are definitely a band to watch out for this year.

Science Bastard’s debut album Pull Tiger Death Cord is available via Junta Records, and be sure to look out for upcoming gigs on their Facebook page.

10 Slightly Alternative Anti-Thatcher Songs

This is a subject which has had a fair bit of coverage, but today sees the release of the highly critiqued The Iron Lady, and it looks like it's going to be one of those films you have to see whether you love (as if you could?) or hate Thatcher.

For years anti-Thatcher songs have been extensively discussed on websites and in forums, with the general consensus being that the best ones are popular offerings by the likes of Morrissey, Billy Bragg, Elvis Costello and The Specials. For that reason I have compiled a list of songs which don't always get the coverage they deserve, to help build the ultimate playlist for when the time comes to celebrate her final demise.

1. Pete Wylie - The Day That Margaret Thatcher Dies (A Party Song)
Maybe I am biased, but having seen this performed live in its full glory, its always going to be my favourite of anti-Thatcher songs. Powerful, captivating and definitely first song on my playlist for when she's finally gone.

2. VIM - Maggie's Last Party
Like dance music? Like taking the piss out of Thatcher? This one's for you. I guarantee, after two plays you'll be joining in with the genius sampling. Altogether now: "Rave rave rave, murder!"

3. Angelic Upstarts - 2 Million Voices

Formulaic punk protest chant attacking Thatcher's influence on mass unemployment, simple but gets the point whilst packing a pretty strong punch in yer lugholes. 

4. Kitchens of Distinction - Margaret's Injection
All the downbeat wailing about Thatcher, but without Morrissey.

5. Newtown Neurotics - Kick Out The Tories.
Another brilliant politically charged attempt from a seriously underrated punk band.

6. Madness - Blue Skinned Beast
Slightly toned down when compared to the lively Madness most of us are used to, but a brilliant and highly articulate criticism of Thatcher's handling of the Falklands war.

7. The Larks - Maggie Maggie Maggie (Out Out Out)
Based on the popular protest chant, this highly repetitive but incredibly infectious attempt captures the public's anger and thrashes it out in true punk style.

8. Fine Young Cannibals - Blue
Admittedly this is a rather tame choice compared to the others, and Roland Gift's unique voice is definitely not suited to everyone's tastes, but Blue criticises Thatcher's destroying of towns all across Britain, and also the Conservative party in general.

9. Attila The Stockbroker - Maggots 1, Maggie 0.
Like the John Cooper Clarke of the south, Attila the Stockbroker successfully combines this folk song with his ever-perceptive punk poetry to give one of his many takes on Thatcher's wrongdoings.

10. Chaos UK - Maggie
Slightly more hardcore choice and blunt offering of hatred towards Thatcher.

Don't forget you can always check her current status at Is Thatcher Dead Yet? See you when the parties start.

Lessons From The Not So Young Ones

Firstly, let me quickly say Happy New Year to you all, and thanks for the support over the last 10 days or so since I started the blog (It feels like a hell of a lot longer). If you do have a spare moment, any comments or general feedback would be genuinely appreciated. The following piece is a bit more straight compared to previous posts, but as you will be able to tell it is a subject which I feel strongly about.

It was six months after The Clash released their final (mentionable) album, post-punk and new romanticism were thriving in the clubs across Britain, the wicked witch of Westminster was just three years into her reign of terror, and riots had already broke out from Brixton to Toxteth.

The BBC was only just beginning to shed its middle class approach to broadcasting, and was now facing competition from more trendy channels such as channel 4. So it was a breath of fresh air for the BBC when The Young Ones first smashed its way onto the TV screens of the British public 30 years ago, in November 1982.

Visually, there was certainly nothing pioneering about the programme; the scenery wobbled, the green screen efforts were frankly crap, and the puppets looked like they had been made by primary school children. Yet were so many ground-breaking aspects to The Young Ones. For a start, allowing a sitcom on the BBC which was highly opinionated, shunned authority and made a mockery of the rich was just absurd.

For me, watching The Young Ones has been a part of my life since childhood, it was the mindless slapstick and general stupidity which drew me to it as a child, but as I got older I started to appreciate the political side, and the fact that the characters were so innovative.

Yes, Rick was a spotty pretentious twat, but the fact that his character was making jibes at Thatcher on BBC during primetime TV, and the fact that the programme provided Alexei Sayle a platform to air his often comical Marxist views in the form of his Eastern European characters really gave the image of the programme sticking its fingers up to middleclass mainstream comedies on the channel (particularly The Good Life). It really was punk ethos, spread through the form of comedy.

It’s hard to think of another sitcom (especially on the BBC) which has provided such an apt commentary on social and political aspects of life, whilst still being incredibly humorous and appealing to such a wide audience.

Watching the classic episodes back now, it is notable just how many similarities there are between times then and now. Granted, we've come a long way in technological advances, we've been provided with phones, laptops, Xboxes, ipods, and hundreds more TV channels, all of which which don't fade to the white dot after 1am, but it's remarkable just how alike today is to 1982. Looking back over the last 12 months or so Britain has once again been plagued by rioting, union strikes, and government cuts, not to mention the fact that the gap between the rich and poor is now at an all-time high.

In these times of austerity, when we’re faced with corrupt government and bankers, when we’re constantly let down by idiotic politicians who make false promises; it’s easy to see why a number of people are tuning back to punk.  

Listening to punk music and watching programmes such as The Young Ones makes you realise how we need to wake up to the fact that we should be standing up and fighting back, because God knows we really need to. I don't think punk has ever been so relevant.