Instagram? No thanks!

I stumbled on this Instagram post last night.

I have an account but it’s not a platform I ever use and looking at some of the comments (eg ‘What a stinking pile of raw poo coming out of his mouth’) I don’t think I ever will!

The sound of musicals - from Carousel to The Little Big Things

I’m not a huge fan of musicals, but who doesn’t love The Sound of Music?

Film wise, that would probably be my favourite musical, followed closely by Mary Poppins, based largely on childhood memories of watching them in the cinema.

I wasn’t born when the classic Hollywood musicals came out in the Fifties, but Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel had a big impact on me the first time I saw it, but that was on television and in my opinion musicals really need to be seen on the big screen, or on stage.

Many years later I saw Carousel at the Savoy Theatre in London. I enjoyed it but I can’t remember any of the music apart from ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ which I would be happy never to hear again.

For sheer unpretentious fun the best musical I’ve seen on stage would be Me and My Girl starring Robert Lindsay.

Originally written in the Thirties, the book was updated by Stephen Fry in the Eighties and I enjoyed it so much I also saw a later revival starring Gary Wilmot, a wonderful stage performer who should be far better known than he is.

Talking of Robert Lindsay, has anyone seen Bert Rigsby, You’re A Fool? It was written, I believe, specially for Lindsay following the success of Me and My Girl but I’ve never seen it, not even on television.

Rewind to 1981 and in a single month I saw three of the most successful musicals of all time - Les Miserables, Evita, and Cats. How did that happen?

Well, my tickets were paid for by the father of a friend who wanted his son to experience some culture now he was living in London.

I’m not sure if popular West End musicals were what he had in mind, but Peter decided that, since his father was paying, he would purchase the very best seats in the house and he invited me to join him.

Of the three, Les Miserables was my favourite. It gets criticised, but that fate befalls most long-running shows because familiarity breeds contempt - amongst critics, if not the paying public.

Even at the time some critics panned it, but I thought it was great - rousing and emotional but with some nice comic interludes.

Evita was OK, and Cats - well, I couldn’t make head nor tail of it (no pun intended) because there was no story to speak of and only one big song (‘Memory’) which I didn’t particularly like.

If I remember, we were seated very close to the stage (even on the stage) so we were surrounded by lithe figures in skimpy catsuits which was unnerving and a little bit uncomfortable.

After that I gave stage musicals a miss for a few years until I was invited to see the Jonathan Miller production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado at the English National Opera with Eric Idle as Ko-Ko and Lesley Garrett as Yum-Yum.

Technically it’s an operetta or comic opera but, ignoring that, I went with a friend who was a huge Gilbert and Sullivan fan and I enjoyed it so much I went again when it returned to the ENO a few years later. Without Idle, though, who stole the show, it wasn’t quite so funny.

I subsequently saw Pirates of the Penzance and another G&S operetta - both of them at the Savoy Theatre - but neither was a patch on The Mikado.

Some musicals age better than others. When I was young I loved the film of Half A Sixpence with Tommy Steele and Julia Foster. Today, it’s a bit cringeworthy but I still have a crush on the character played by Julia Foster (who was 80 in August).

More recently (ie 15 years ago) I quite enjoyed Mama Mia: The Musical, which I first saw on stage in London, although the hen-night vibe in the theatre was a bit disconcerting and when some people stood up and danced I felt well out of my comfort zone.

The singing in the subsequent film is so bad it’s good, if you know what I mean, but I still came out of the cinema with a smile on my face.

I even liked Mama Mia: Here We Go Again.

And so to The Little Big Things which I saw yesterday and whose co-lyricist just happens to be my godson, Tom Ling.

I’m not going to review it (although the lyrics are great!), but I’ll say this. If an energetic, feelgood musical performed by a young, talented cast appeals to you, I thoroughly recommend it.

It’s based on a book by Henry Fraser, a promising young rugby player who was paralysed from the neck down following a swimming accident when he was 17.

The lead role is played by two actors who represent Henry before and after the accident. One is therefore played by a disabled actor in a wheelchair, and he’s not the only disabled actor on stage.

In other hands this could be rather mawkish material, high on confected emotion, and extremely syrupy, even preachy. But it’s not.

It’s not without emotion, but it’s also laugh out loud funny at times, with some great lines that had the audience roaring with laughter.

The comic timing of the actor who played Henry Fraser’s physiotherapist, also disabled and in a wheelchair, was brilliant.

I should add that the wheelchairs weren’t heavy or cumbersome but zipped about the stage, and in the expert hands of their users they complemented the vibrant pace of the show.

The staging in this brand new theatre was extremely well done. For example, there were run-off ramps on all four corners of the stage that allowed for super quick entrances and exits.

The underfloor lighting was another integral part of the show, with waves of colour washing across the stage.

Sohoplace, the first new build theatre in the West End for 50 years, can accommodate almost 600 people and the audience sit on all four sides of the stage, rather like a basketball match.

We were on the front row on the first of two balconies looking directly down on to the stage, which felt very close. Those on the front row of the stalls were so close they could touch the stage, so it was quite an immersive experience.

The Little Big Things has been well reviewed and the initial run, which was due to end this month, has been extended to March 2 (my birthday!) so I may go back and see it again.

The audience clearly loved it (it got a standing ovation) so I’d definitely recommend it.

Sohoplace is worth a visit too. With an almost full house there were areas when it felt a bit cramped and crowded, but overall they’ve done wonders with the available space.

There’s even a small restaurant on the ground floor that I would also recommend (the Korean spiced chicken wings were especially nice), but pre-booking is advisable.

The price of tickets for The Little Big Things range from £30 to £70 which, in West End terms, isn’t bad compared to some.

I note though that tickets for this year’s panto at the London Palladium appear significantly cheaper than they were a few years ago when I paid £339 for two tickets to see Snow White.

The top price for Peter Pan on the Palladium website is currently £95, while the lowest is £30. Perhaps the more expensive tickets have sold out, or is this a sign of the times?

See also: West End guys (and girls)

Above: The set of The Little Big Things from my seat at sohoplace, the first new built theatre in the West End for 50 years

Chatty man

Remember that podcast I did for the TaxPayers Alliance a couple of weeks ago?

I wrote about it here, and a skilfully edited version was posted online on Friday.

We covered a range of (smoking-related) subjects, from the history of Forest to Rishi Sunak’s bid to ban the sale of tobacco to future generations.

Huge thanks to Conor Holohan (for inviting me to do it), Benjamin Elks (who conducted the interview), and Joe Ventre (for the digital wizardry).

You can watch it on YouTube here, or there’s an audio only version on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and other platforms. Details and links here.

Bangers, indoor fireworks, and sparklers - those were the days

The fun police are coming after fireworks.

Nothing new in that, of course. Fireworks have been on their hit list for decades but, according to a report in New Zealand, even the general public is moving in favour of prohibition:

53% of those surveyed want to see fireworks banned for recreational use, with a further 20% wanting to see them banned altogether.

Meanwhile, in the UK, the Independent reports that, 'There are strict rules about where and when you can let off fireworks - but some think that isn’t enough'.

How did it come to this?

When I was a small boy in the Sixties we lived in Maidenhead, Berkshire, and I remember the excitement of waiting for my father to arrive home from work so we could watch him unpack a box of fireworks in our back garden, before lighting each one in turn.

(And, yes, Bob Mortimer is right, they were called Standard Fireworks!)

Rockets attached to a long wooden stick were placed in empty milk bottles. After the fuse was lit they would shoot up into the sky, exploding several feet above the house.

A rogue rocket might develop a mind of its own, but no-one I knew was ever hit by one.

Roman candles were my favourite, while Catherine wheels were arguably the most unreliable, partly because they had to be nailed to a fence or a post so they could spin round.

If it was too loose it might come off as it was spinning. But if it was nailed too tight it wouldn't spin at all, so the effect was ruined.

As small children we were never allowed to light fireworks ourselves, and if there's one piece of advice I remember it's this: stand well back and never return to a lit firework that hasn't gone off.

The problem was, if a firework failed to go off, everyone would stand there unsure what to do, and precious minutes would be lost until it was agreed it was safe to continue.

Arguably the best moment was being given some sparklers which we would wave around, creating patterns in the dark.

What my parents didn't know is that, at the age of just seven or eight, my friends and I would buy small boxes of bangers from the corner shop and take them to school. Hard to believe now, but that's just the way it was.

Aside from sparklers, bangers were the cheapest firework. They looked innocent enough, a small paper tube not unlike a sherbet fountain.

Inside however it was packed with gunpowder and when you lit the fuse with a match (yes, we were allowed to buy those as well) you had no more than a second or two before it exploded with a loud bang.

I don't remember anyone getting into trouble but what I do remember – very clearly – is a story that appeared in the paper.

It featured a boy (a similar age to us) who lost his, er, wedding tackle (as it was then called) when a banger went off in his trouser pocket.

Apparently, it had over-heated and exploded with no need for a match.

I remember reading this and thinking "That could have been me" because we used to sit in class with bangers in our trouser pockets too.

I stopped buying them after that and eventually the law changed to prevent the sale of fireworks to anyone under 18.

Reading this – 'A brief history of bangers: fireworks of legend' – does make me feel nostalgic though:

Bangers … The name of these once-delightful nuisance fireworks still casts a flash of sentimental mischief across the eyes of people of a certain age.

In my teenage years the magic of fireworks began to wear off to the point where I remember standing in our garden overlooking the River Tay in Fife, shivering, while my father laboriously planted each firework in a pot of soil or sand before lighting them, one after the after, with a suitable interval between each one in order to make sure the previous one had gone out.

And that's the problem with organised firework displays as well – far too much hanging around before the action starts!

When my children were young we would watch the village firework display at the local sports ground, but the largest display I have attended in person was the night before the wedding of Charles and Diana in 1981.

It took place in Hyde Park, a short walk from my apartment (I was sharing a flat near Marble Arch), and was accompanied by music performed by, I think, a live orchestra.

It was a huge event attended by tens of thousands of people, and while I saw the fireworks I was so far away I couldn't hear any of the music, which was unfortunate because the fireworks were supposed to complement the score, and vice versa, so some of the pauses didn't make much sense.

Anyway, I must confess that fireworks don't thrill me in the way they once did, but further restrictions or prohibition? Why would you do that?

Like smoking, the recreational use of fireworks is a personal choice, surely? As long as you don't harm anyone else, what has it got to do with government?

The most important factors here are 'courtesy' and 'common sense'. If people over-step the mark we already have laws designed to regulate against anti-social behaviour. Why do we need more legislation?

Anyway, if, like me, you feel nostalgic for 'the old days', do read this – Bonfire Night in the 1950s and 1960s.

Oh, and the story Bob Mortimer told on Would I Lie To You? referred to an incident in which he inadvertently set off fireworks in his own home as a child.

I've never done that, but as a student I did burn a hole in a formica table when an indoor firework turned into a mini Mount Etna, with burning lava (or whatever it was) pouring on to the plastic surface.

(I know, indoor fireworks. Those were the days.)

Park and pay – an unexpected cost of opposing the generational smoking ban

I can’t believe it.

I have just received a parking charge for overstaying my welcome at a motorway service station.

According to the notifying letter, I arrived at 16:05 on Thursday October 5, and left at 18:46, 40 minutes beyond the free parking limit.

There's no point appealing. They've got me bang to rights. They even have photo evidence of my car arriving and leaving.

On the day, though, it never occurred to me that I had done anything wrong because the reason I was parked up for so long is because I was busy working.

I was driving home from Salford, having already done a number of interviews about Rishi Sunak’s plan for a generational tobacco ban, when I agreed to do four ‘drive time’ interviews - the first at 16:10, the last at 18:20.

Rather than risk getting caught in traffic between services, it seemed sensible to pull off the road and do all four interviews while parked at a single service station.

A similar thing happened some years ago when a breaking news story meant I had to spend the best part of three hours at the Kinross service station off the M90 in Fife.

I wasn’t penalised then so the thought that I might be in breach of parking regulations never crossed my mind.

What happens if you are tired and pull off the motorway to have a break at the nearest services, as you are frequently encouraged to do on long journeys?

If you fall asleep and stay beyond two hours, that little rest could cost you as much as £100.

I'll just have to put it down to experience, but the cost of opposing the generational smoking ban is proving expensive already!

The Battle of Ideas – a breath of fresh air

A quick reminder that I am speaking at the Battle of Ideas in London this weekend.

I wrote about last year's event here, noting that I took part in the first Battle of Ideas in, I think, 2005.

The first BoI took place over four weeks and featured a series of debates and discussions in a number of small venues across London. Writing about it later, I recalled that:

It concluded with a dinner to which every speaker was invited and that was the moment I realised how much more enjoyable it was to exchange views in a civilised manner without being dragged down to the level of party politics or no platformed by adversaries whether it be the tobacco control industry or anyone else.

It was the first time too that I began to realise that the political debate wasn’t as simple as left versus right because the political boundaries are often blurred, especially when it comes to free speech and individual autonomy.

Invited to endorse the event the following year, I commented:

The Battle of Ideas is a breath of fresh air. Freedom of speech is actively encouraged, which is hugely liberating. Audience and speakers are refreshingly candid. Apart from speaking their minds, many of them enjoy a drink. Others like to smoke. This is the real world, not the grey, bland, sanitised world our political masters would like us to inhabit.

In 2007 Forest organised and sponsored the farewell drinks party on board The Elizabethan, the Mississippi-style paddle steamer that we subsequently hired for our own boat party, Smoke On The Water, from 2011 to 2017.

A personal ‘highlight’ was discharging myself from hospital in order to host another farewell party at Ognisko, the smoker-friendly Polish club in South Kensington following the Battle of Ideas in 2008. For the full story of that bizarre weekend click here.

Since then I’ve spoken at the BoI on several occasions, the last time in 2019 (above) when we discussed 'problem lifestyles'.

Free speech is arguably under greater threat than ever. So too is smoking, which is why I was pleased to be invited this year to address the subject 'Freedom: Up In Smoke?' which is also the title of the essay I have just written for the Academy of Ideas.

Today, the Battle of Ideas is almost alone in giving a platform to the 'in defence of smoking' lobby. For that, and many other reasons, I urge you to support it.

Tickets for this weekend's event are available here.

Another Yorkshire post

Just back from a short break in Harrogate.

My wife and I are regular visitors to the picturesque North Yorkshire town.

We started coming here after I was invited, in February 2012, to give a presentation at a seminar hosted by the Federation of Licensed Victuallers at The Old Swan Hotel.

Later, having made my escape, I was lucky enough to get a table in Betty’s, the famous and slightly kitsch Yorkshire tea room, without having to queue round the block.

Bathed in warm winter sun and enjoying a pot of tea with a Fat Rascal, I remember thinking, "I like this town".

Before that I had been to Harrogate twice, I think, each time on business, but it was my second visit, on July 7, 2005, that I remember most because it was the day of the terrorist bombs in London (7/7).

I had been invited - with Deborah Arnott of ASH - to address a meeting at the Local Government Association annual conference. I travelled up the previous day and was in my hotel room watching breakfast television when news of the bombings started filtering through.

One bomb went off at Kings Cross at the same time that I often passed through the station on my way to work at the old Forest office in London.

Several people, thinking I might be at Kings Cross, tried to contact me. However, following the blast, the mobile phone network was down, so they resorted to email and I was able to tell them I was 200 miles away.

The debate with Deborah Arnott went ahead as scheduled but many delegates preferred to watch the unfolding news on the TV monitors in the foyer of the exhibition centre.

Others were busy checking out of their hotels before rushing back to London, so it was a rather muted occasion.

It certainly put the proposed smoking ban in perspective. Why was so much time and energy being spent urging politicians to ban smoking in every pub and club in the country when there were far more important issues to address?

I feel the same about Rishi Sunak’s generational smoking ban. Given everything else that is going on in the world, internationally and at home, it seems preposterous that the Government is allocating precious parliamentary time to banning the sale of cigarettes to future generations.

But I digress.

Over the past ten years Harrogate has become, if not our second home, then our first choice for a short break. Sometimes we stay for two or three nights. Or we stop overnight for dinner and breakfast before driving north through the beautiful Yorkshire Dales and on to my in-laws in Scotland.

We like it so much we've considered moving there. Property isn't cheap, though, so the nearby towns of Ripon or Knaresborough might be more realistic.

Either way, I'll keep you posted!

Above: Autumn leaves in Harrogate this week with the famous Stray in the background; below: outside the Slingsby Gin shop, Christmas 2019

Freedom: Up In Smoke?

I have written a short essay for the Academy of Ideas:

From David Hockney to Syrian women smoking cigarettes in defiance of religious extremism, smoking can be an expression of personal and political freedom. Unfortunately, writes Simon, such freedoms are increasingly undermined by public-health measures, designed to control and regulate our behaviour beyond what ought to be reasonable.

‘Freedom: Up In Smoke?’ is part of the Letters on Liberty series of pamphlets and you can download (or purchase) a copy here.

I shall also be discussing the subject at the Battle of Ideas which takes place in London next weekend when I will be joined by philosopher, author and lecturer, Dr Piers Benn, and businessman and former Brexit Party PPC Rick Moore.