Part 36 - Spicks and Specks (Friday, 15 October 1971) Duncan felt the eyes upon him as he walked to the tea house by Kunming Lake. He tried to fit in, the blue boiler suit and the Mao cap. But his big nose and his red-flecked stansgate marked him as a barbarian, or, as the fellow residents of his apartment building muttered, a foreign spy. But he had little to fear on that score. He was highly regarded by the foreign ministry, supplementing his 'pension' with individual tuition of privileged students in conversational English. He coached some of the most promising young diplomats and interpreters. Not that his 'pension' was a real pension. That went to his family who had been told he was missing, believed dead. But he freelanced now, mostly for Canberra, picking up tit-bits here and there. Payment came through a trusted friend in Hong Kong. It was nothing like his old salary but, thanks to Eddie's revaluation, a sunburnt Australian dollar could go a long way in Peking. He was gradually gaining fluency in Mandarin but the Chinese characters were presenting an insurmountable barrier. Duncan had bare survival level literacy - he could only make out the characters for "Gentlemen", "Tsing Tao" and "roast pork". And here she was, right on time. His most promising pupil. Duncan greeted her in halting Mandarin before the conversation switched to English. It was almost straight to business. "Please sir," she began. Duncan still couldn't get over the Confucian values that had survived the Revolution. Older men were always "sir". He'd tried to get her to call him "you old bastard" but that was one lesson she had conspicuously failed to learn. "Please sir, what is 'Fukian A'?" Duncan had to shift a few vowels in his head, allowing for the Mandarin accent, before the phrase came into mental focus. "It's an American expression. Its meaning is similar to that Australian saying 'Ken Oath' that I taught you last week." "Ah. 'Strong agreement'?" "That's right." Duncan was extra alert now. Where was Miss Huan picking up American phrases in Peking? And presumably it was a phrase she heard in conversation. Duncan wasn't a great reader but he was led to understand it was an expression rarely written down, even in the 1970s. She was keen to explore the mysteries of the phrase deeper. "Fukien I understand, sir. But what is 'A'?" "What you have to understand, Miss Huan, is that the Americans are a very religious people. Their God is most sacred to them, as are His attributes. And the most important attribute is that He is awesome. But it would be most impious to saw the word 'awesome' in full. So polite Americans always say 'Fukien A' and never 'Fukien Awesome'." "Ah. Thank you sir." She seemed relieved that Duncan had saved her any future faux pas. Duncan decided to seize upon her gratitude, "Was it an American that used that phrase?" She nodded, "The new ambassador. He..." And then she covered her mouth, a sign that she felt she may have said too much. A very strong sense of propriety, thought Duncan. But nevertheless she was worth cultivating. He understood from some other students that she had access to the Chairman himself. There were surely opportunities to supplement his pension here. Duncan allowed a look of faint alarm to cross his face. "Miss Huan, I think I can see a speck in your eye. Do you mind?" He made a gesture. Understanding, she raised her glasses. Duncan's head moved back six inches, in an apparent reaction of amazement. Duncan switched to speaking near-perfect Mandarin, "Why, Miss Huan! Without your glasses - you are beautiful!"

(Tuesday, 29 February 1972) John was finding his new career as a record producer harder than he had expected. The band agreed that Wedgwood-Bennism represented a wrong turning for socialism. Its authoritarianism meant that the full political, economic and social emancipation of the people had not occurred. The Labour Government seemed not to realise it was government - them - that was the problem. But the band had only grudgingly agreed with John that folk music was linked in the public mind with the Wedgwood-Benn government. John was apologetic for the part his former band the Bonzos, now disintegrated, had played earlier in support of Labour. The new band had agreed to a name change, 'The Levellers', but were resisting John's change in musical sound. "Well, it's almost folk," he argued, "But with a rougher edge. And it has good historic roots. German cabaret from 40 years ago." Tim looked dismissive, as if to say "The music we have played goes back far longer than that." John forged on, "Brecht and Weill. 'Die Dreigroschenoper'. 'Lied der Seeräuber-Jenny'. Very anti-Nazi." Now Peter was hurling a hairy eyeball, that said, "So what? Everyone is anti-Nazi these days. With the possible exception of the Leader of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition." "And we're going to make it an anti-government song," John persisted. "What? You mean pro-Tory?" Maddy asked, in a bugger-this-for-a-game-of-soldiers voice. "No. Anti-government in general. Pro-freedom and individual expression." "I'm not sure..." began Rick. "Look! Just bloody do what I tell you!" John exploded, rubbing his bald head with his hands, "We'll give it a run through." After a brief tune up, the band began to play the intro. Then Maddy sang,       You gentlemen can gawk while I'm sweeping the floors       And I'm sweeping the floors for all you knaves       And maybe once you tip me and it made you feel swell       But in this lousy system we are lousy wage-slaves "Very good, Maddy," John encouraged, "Boys, we need more guitar sound. It's just three chords so you can really thrash it. Imagine Maddy sweeping the floor with a whisk-broom." John turned to Syd, his assistant, "Roger[1], we've got to lose the accordion." Syd nodded. His band had never taken off. Now he worked for John, producing records. At least he was still in the Business.       It's the voice of the People that's talking,       It's people like me who are talking.       Yet one fine day there will be roars throughout the land       And you'll ask, "What is all that screeching for?"       And you'll see me smile as I lift my fist and shout,       "War on all oppressors and despoilers!" There was a key change.       Anarchy in the UK!       Justice and equality       No authority![2] "Very good," said John, as the song eventually reached its end. But Maddy kept singing and the boys played along with a different three chords.       A future,       A future,       A future for me! "What the hell was that?" demanded John. "Improvisation" said Tim, defiantly. "Well don't," insisted John, "We need order if we're going to make this record." With all the stress in the room, Syd was starting to feel peculiar.

Saturday, 29 April, 1972 Dear Diary, A quiet evening. I'm making preparations for my new variety programme - a mixture of modern music and talking to the people who are making Revolutionary Britain such a swinging place. I rather fancy I shall find the transition from wireless to the telly pleasant experience. Peggy was working on the draft of her May Day speech she'll be televising to the nation. No use me trying to coach her in television presentation, she has her own style and does things in her own way. I dare say viewers warm to her authenticity. I'm v. much looking forward to the speech. Peggy has a new confidence since her election mandate. She's cleared out a lot of the dead wood, the timid petty careerists like Jim and David. Fortunately she has found new blood from among those elected in '69, otherwise she might have had to draft back into cabinet an old war horse like me! One thing Peggy wants to do is warn people about this new music. Now, I don't mind a bit of folk music now and then, the Bonzos were fine people. The less said about The Seekers and their support for old Enoch, the better. But this new crowd, appropriating the proud name of the Levellers but not supporting Socialism as we know it. On no, their ideas represent little more than anarchy. Yet strangely, they are popular. Pandering to people's baser tastes. And getting paid for it, too. Really, they are no better than prostitutes, I told Peggy. That was true, she noted, but thought the word didn't sound very prime ministerial. Most of the synonyms we thought of didn't sound much better. Then Peggy hit upon an old Elizabethan word, 'punks'. Just the ticket. I'm sure Peggy's speech will consign punk folk to the rubbish bin of musical history.

(Saturday, 13 May 1972) The three performers on a garishly lit stage share certain physical similarities. They could almost be brothers. But there are differences. Two have stansgates while the third is clean shaven with an heroic Anglo-Saxon overbite. Two have musical ability and are playing instruments. Whilst the one with a mouth only a mother could love is pushing his talent envelope merely by walking and clapping his hands over his head to encourage spectator participation. Yet the audience, presumably handpicked, is listless.       Where is the girl I loved all along?       The girl that I loved,       She is gone, she is gone.       All of my life       I call yesterday,       The spicks and specks of my life have gone away. The group earnestly repeat the final chorus as the Director lowers their sound and the camera pans to Jimmy. We see he has a new guest, a fresh-faced young man with red hair and freckles. Jimmy tells the camera, "That band from Manchester, now taking the rest of the country by storm, with their song 'Spicks and Specks'. Our next guest is Neil, one of the bright young men who have recently entered Parliament, who in many ways typifies the sea change we are experiencing in Revolutionary Britain." "Hullo, Jimmy. Hullo, viewers." "An easy question to start off with, Neil." Neil smiles. Although the exchange seems scripted, the young man is not yet fully at ease with the camera. "Neil, these new songs calling for anarchism we hear about. (Not on the BBC obviously!) Would you agree with the Prime Minister when she says the so called musicians who play this stuff are no better than..." The pause does not seem scripted. Neil becomes visibly nervous. Jimmy appears to be searching his memory for a little-used word, perhaps dating back to the time of Elizabeth. Queen Elizabeth. Aha! "...queans?" Jimmy concludes with an upwards interrogatory inflection. Neil is open-mouthed. The interview has clearly left his comfort zone. In the control room, the Director places a thoughtful digit in his ear. Not for the first time he wishes he were in the United States where moments like this could be salvaged by cutting to a commercial break. Pulling his finger out, he barks orders. "Camera 2, pull away from Neil. Camera 1, zoom in on Jimmy. Keep the band on stage and tell them to stand by. Camera 3, close in on the band, and for God's sake stop panning between the piano and the teeth!"       All of my life       I call yesterday,       The spicks and specks of my life have gone away.       Spicks and specks! [3]

Forbidden fruit taste sweetest, as the Anabaptists, Chartists and Left Opposition have learned in times past. While The Levellers were being denounced by the government and banned by the BBC their records were walking off the shelves of the high street shops. New groups joined the craze. Perhaps the most famous was The Diggers. They lacked The Leveller's folk roots and took punk folk in a new direction, making the three-chord guitar riff tight and danceable. Their hits were many but 'Get a Grip on Yourself', a plea for self responsibility - and 'Peaches', a paean of freedom - were most memorable. They also made a cover of 'Two Little Boys' about which hangs a tale. [In the 'hundred blooming flowers' of Eddie's cultural revolution, there were some brave experiments on Australian television. None braver than the attack on body fascism in the choice of a 200 pound moustachioed woman to host the news review program, 'The Aunty Jack Show'. One of the regular segments was a showcase of Australian talent performing 'Anarchy in the UK'. It might be Daddy Cool performing the song in the style of 'Eagle Rock' one week and Russell Morris interpreting AitUK through 'The Real Thing' the next. Barry Crocker's 'The Adventures of Barry McKenzie' version cut close to the bone but Rolf Harris' 'Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport' setting received both pirate airplay and consternation in the UK. The Diggers swore revenge.] Naturally some Americans adopted a Smithsonian Institution attitude of "we invented it here"[4] towards punk folk. They pointed to an avant-garde combo called The Modern Lovers who had been doing this sort of thing for simply ages.[5] There is a bootleg recording of The Levellers performing The Modern Lovers' 'Roadrunner' in mock tribute although Maddy gets the giggles part way through and the song concludes in fiasco. The Queens - perhaps named after Jimmy's own televisual fiasco - left a rich legacy. Their 'We Are the Non-Hierarchs' is still played as an anthem at sporting events where participation is more important than winning. Like any craze, punk folk would eventually burn out. The writing was on the wall with The Braxton Bragg Experiment's 'Bestiality'.       Bestiality!       Strong and warm and wild and free.       Bestiality!       Your laws do not apply to me. Many questioned how animals could give informed consent and the Anarchist High Council condemned the song as unhelpful. But at this point in our narrative, tender reader, that song is still far in the future. [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] Syd and the members of his former band call him 'Syd'. Everyone else calls him Roger. [2] The part of der Seeräuber-Jenny was originally sung by Weill's wife Lotte Lenya. You can find a German language recording of 'Lied der Seeräuber-Jenny' here: http://www.dhm.de/lemo/objekte/sound/dreigroschen2/index.ram Younger readers may recall Lenya playing the part of Rosa Kleb in the film 'From Russia With Love'. [3] 'Spicks and Specks'. Words and music: Gibb/Gibb. [4] Similar attitudes existed in the Soviet Union at this time, with claims of inventing television, the automobile and manned space flight. [5] In our timeline the Modern Lovers didn't really get going until 1976, perhaps intimidated by all the other great music around. In 'Thaxted' they do not face such inhibiting factors.