The FOC thread.

[blue b4 the moon]

Ah right, it was called Sing Something Simple not Songs of Praise !

I remember it because me and r kid wanted to listen to the charts whilst we washed and dried the pots but by the time we'd all had tea, Radio one had finished and it was some religous shite we called Warwee Warwee ,(think of the sound a choir makes when you can't make out the words)

Have I dreamt that at one stage a terrace chant was Sing something simple, you simple fucking twats?

 

[blue b4 the moon]

Ice on bedroom windows in winter meaning getting dressed downstairs for school in the back room....the only warm room.

 

[Lavinda Past]

Have I dreamt that at one stage a terrace chant was Sing something simple, you simple fucking twats?

The word 'fucking' is unnecessary as the chant doesn't 'scan' if it is included.

T'was indeed, "Sing something simple, you simple twats"

 

[remember arthur mann]

The old building brick heated in the back to back oven then wrapped in the evening news, placed at the bottom of the bed to keep it warm. Bit of a bastard if you dreamt you were playing football.

 

[Bluethemaway]

I remember being 16 and a pint of lager was 48 pence.

 

[Lovebitesandeveryfing]

Have I dreamt that at one stage a terrace chant was Sing something simple, you simple fucking twats?

The word 'fucking' is unnecessary as the chant doesn't 'scan' if it is included.

T'was indeed, "Sing something simple, you simple twats"

Haha, that's great, gave me a good laugh. Never heard it. Presumably it was aimed at opposition fans? Thing is, I can hear that dreamy melody that the original was sung to (and yes, I used to listen to it as well on Sunday evenings), and that's what's funny, if that style was kept.

Re. early Sunday evenings. Anybody remember seeing David Kossoff on the religious programme, talking about Jewish beliefs? He was the guitarist Paul Kossoff's father. Always felt bad for him about that, seemed a really nice guy.

 

[uweuweuwe]

About time us cantankerous old fossils had our own thread where we can talk shit and bang on about the good old days.


Who remembers The Plank.
View attachment 162023

*The Plank* (1967) is a classic example of British slapstick comedy, directed by and starring Eric Sykes, alongside Tommy Cooper. The film is nearly wordless, relying instead on physical gags, expressive sounds, and impeccable timing to deliver its humor. It tells the simple yet chaotic story of two hapless builders who attempt to transport a single wooden plank across town, resulting in a cascade of mishaps and comic encounters. Though the premise is modest, the execution is a masterclass in visual comedy, paying homage to silent-era traditions while infused with a distinctly British flavor.

Filmed primarily in the Putney area of London, *The Plank* offers a delightful snapshot of 1960s suburban life, with terraced houses, narrow streets, and period vehicles providing the backdrop for the mayhem. The film cleverly uses real locations to stage elaborate gags—from run-ins with pedestrians and vehicles to increasingly absurd obstacles that complicate the builders’ simple task. Putney's recognizable streets and urban character ground the humor in everyday British life, enhancing the relatability and charm of the film for local audiences.

Beyond its comedic brilliance, *The Plank* is celebrated for its ensemble cast of well-loved British comedians, including Jimmy Edwards, Hattie Jacques, and Roy Castle. Its success lies not only in its humor but in its nostalgic appeal, capturing a time when comedy was often physical, family-friendly, and rich with character. Decades later, *The Plank* remains a beloved piece of British cinema—a testament to the enduring power of simple storytelling told with expert comedic craft.

The plank and Greystoke the legend of tarzan were the first 2 films we ever rented from the newly opened video shop around the corner. Played on our brand new video recorder that my dad had picked up from the tv rental shop on church street (gilberts)

 

[denislawsbackheel]

At college in 1968 we could get 10 pints of beer and 10 No. 6 tipped for under a quid.

 

[remember arthur mann]

At college in 1968 we could get 10 pints of beer and 10 No. 6 tipped for under a quid.

Cold case. Drinking under age.

 

[i kne albert davy]

The 1950s and early 60s were dire for British comedy. It was full of second raters from the music halls. Harry worth, Jimmy Edwards, Ted Ray, Terry Thomas, Jewel and Warris, Archie Andrews, Arthur Askey, the Clitheroe Kid, The Navy Lark, and a host of others I forget.
Archie Andrews summed it up: a ventriloquist star of a radio show!

Nothing wrong with Terry Thomas excellent comedy actor.

 

[i kne albert davy]

Sunday tea around 6pm, eating the remnants of Sunday Roast Dinner listening to "Sing Something Simple" on the Radio. Grandparents round our house, Dad finishing the last of the bread and butter with a chocolate digestive sandwich.

Grandparents went home, then out came the Tin Bath which was hung on the kitchen wall, Mum and Sister first, water boiled in kettle and saucepans on the gas gob, in front of the fire whilst me and Dad sat in the kitchen, then, in the same water, me and Dad in the bath. That was it for the week, just a "personal" stand up wash after that.

Kin freezing in winter, no heating, just a coal fire, started by rolling up newspaper into a coil, then some kindle followed by coal, lit it all and put the tin plate (can't remember the name) flush to the wall and a couple of broadsheet newspaper pages over the top to get the fire roaring.

God we were poor looking back but my childhood was so happy with such a loving family.

It was the tin shovel in our house stopped the news paper catching fire well most of the time :-)

 

[remember arthur mann]

Re. early Sunday evenings. Anybody remember seeing David Kossoff on the religious programme, talking about Jewish beliefs? He was the guitarist Paul Kossoff's father. Always felt bad for him about that, seemed a really nice guy.

A gentle man. I remember him in A Kid for Two Farthings.

 

[Wanderingwolf]

@Onholiday(somemightsay) I notice everyone has ignored you. Probably because they forgot your question.
I propose the following
60-65 Junior FOC (my category)
66-70 Mainstream FOC
71-75 Senior FOC
76-80 Grandmaster FOC
80+ @oakiecokie FOC

Qualified for junior foc long time since I’ve been junior anything.
Remember buying single ciggies in the paper shop and when it was a pound to get into the footy

 

[AliBobbyJ]

Very into this mindset at present, because I am currently reading, for the third time in my life, the truly wonderful Lark Rise to Candleford, the memoir of a rural childhood in the eighties and then adolescence in the nineties — 1880s and 1890s, that is. I loved it at the age of nineteen, and still as much at my FOC age. In passing, you pick up a lot of social history from it, although it's the sense of a child's wonder and curiosity that comes over with a vividness that is unique in my reading experience. And she was a poor child, from a very poor family — of course, they had no bathroom at all. Cannot recommend it highly enough. Incidentally, it is not one jot sentimental, or nostalgic, contrary to what people think about it. Just very, very truthful and clear-eyed.

Bloody hell, so am I (second time.) A fine book!
First read it all those years ago alongside Peter Laslett's The World We Have Lost, another one for misty-eyed nostalgia trippers. Think the BBC made a tv series of it though I've not seen enough of it to know how good it is or how faithful to the book. But there are some of my favourite parts of England in those Lark Rise settings - Ewelme is a pretty village just outside Oxford and a bit further west there's Kelmscott where the Thames begins and where William Morris is buried under Cotswold stone.

Re. memories of BBC radio programmes elsewhere in this thread, I'm surprised no one has talked about gems like "Just a Minute" or "I'm Sorry I'll Read That again." Both were shows of comic genius (imo), unscripted and often brilliant word play that at times bordered on the surreal.

Oh, and back in the day I often listened to the late, great Alistair Cooke's weekly "Letter From America", fifteen minutes of insightful commentary with never a wasted word. Used to make me wonder what it would be like living in the U.S. and describing it to folks back home ...

 

[hammocity]

It was the tin shovel in our house stopped the news paper catching fire well most of the time :-)

Remember that at my Grandparents house on Camp Street in Ashton which was probably the lowest value housing in the town, they paid rent weekly to a fat fella every Friday, all recorded on their rent book.

 

[remember arthur mann]

We had several paraffin heaters and I can also remember being sent to Mr Hulse's shop with an empty can to buy the paraffin. Thinking back, it's amazing I was allowed to 'trim' the wicks, fill the heater and light the damned things. I also used to make up the coal fire on Saturday mornings before Mum and Dad got up. Such responsibility! Riddling the ash into the dustbin was fun - we used to keep all the little bits of coal that stayed in the riddle. No waste was allowed.

I can only ever recall having a fire in another room once. I was very ill and my mother deemed it necessary. A very rare indulgence.

 

[i kne albert davy]

Remember that at my Grandparents house on Camp Street in Ashton which was probably the lowest value housing in the town, they paid rent weekly to a fat fella every Friday, all recorded on their rent book.

We were from Duky 2 up 2 down coal fire in kitchen and living room, only one got lit to expensive use both outside bog with a paraffin heater in winter tin bath hung on bog wall. Had next to nothing but knew everybody who lived in street from one end to the other material wise we’ve come on leaps and bounds socially I’m not so sure.

 

[hammocity]

We were from Duky 2 up 2 down coal fire in kitchen and living room, only one got lit to expensive use both outside bog with a paraffin heater in winter tin bath hung on bog wall. Had next to nothing but knew everybody who lived in street from one end to the other material wise we’ve come on leaps and bounds socially I’m not so sure.

Absolutely spot on pal, I've got fantastic neighbours though now, immediate ones are a London lad of Nigerian descent married to an Ashton lass, they're moving shortly to an 800k pad, we'll miss them. My other immediate is a Polish girl (74) who is lovely, Marissa, best neighbours we've ever had.

 

[i kne albert davy]

I remember being 16 and a pint of lager was 48 pence.

You must be in the youthful end of us FOCs :-)

 

[johnny crossan]

At college in 1968 we could get 10 pints of beer and 10 No. 6 tipped for under a quid.

When I were a lad in Stockport it was 9d for a fish, 4d for chips and 2d for peas from Pickles in Adswood = 1/3d. They put chips up to 5d in 1959 and there was a lot hardship.