Pages

Breakfast In Bed
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query lark trap. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query lark trap. Sort by date Show all posts

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

The Art of the Lark Trap

Don't worry, this isn't a post about animal cruelty, or anything connected to the hunting or harming of birds in any way. As if! The only birds I plan to mention today are the imaginary ones that my dear friend, Let's call him 'Mr A', once convinced his young lady were the victims of an annual hunting event in the West Country. Not yet accustomed to her lover's mischievous sense of humour, the girl in question had been idly inquiring after some unusual looking pylons on the roadside, whilst driving down to his mother's house in Dorset. "Oh, those are the Lark traps", a deadpan 'Mr A' informed his trusting squeeze - going on to explain that the trapping of Larks was in fact an established local tradition. Perturbed by the very notion, she raised the subject later in the company of her future mother-in-law, and was mortified to learn that the whole thing had been an elaborate ruse at her expense. And so the Lark Trap was born.

Now in common usage amongst the friends and family of its original perpetrator, not to mention an increasing army of outside followers, 'Lark Trapping' as an idiom is a superior (in my opinion) and apt alternative to 'spinning a yarn'. Essentially the act of convincing another person with a plausible explanation for something clearly preposterous, it can also be applied to practical jokes in general. Whether or not 'Mr A' was consicously coining a phrase at the time of his original spontaneous yarn, we may never know. But I am happy to report that he continues to reel people in at any opportunity, and remains the undisputed king of the tradition to this day. So, rather than attempt some lame April Fool post, I decided that today would be the perfect occasion on which to pay tribute to the master fabricator himself, and maybe convert a few more Lark Trapping evangelists at the same time.

And while we're on the subejct of ridiculous avian-related stories, this BBC feature about flying penguins is worth forwarding onto your more gullible pals. Of course I never believed it for a second.

Friday, May 30, 2008

My Grandma Is Johnny Cash

The latest addition to Brighton's thriving music scene, XVII The Hangman, played their debut gig last night upstairs at the Prince Albert, supporting the skinny-jeaned Dirty Socials. Declaring itself "the most Rock n Roll pub in Brighton", the distinctly divey Albert can certainly claim to have played host to more than a few future luminaries in its time. And based on last night's impassioned performance, there's every reason to believe that XVII The Hangman will be the next proud notch on the pub's metaphorical musical bedpost. The 'sounds like' section of the band's obligatory myspace page reads: "A bit Cave a bit Waits a bit Doors a bit Ceefax music... and some gypsy type jazz tango things thrown in because we can" which is exactly how I would have described them, had I got in first.

I was there in the capacity of official photographer and friend to the lead singer, Nick Sheldon (formerly of Low Frequency Dive - pictured right). When I asked Sheldon afterwards how he felt the gig had gone, he seemed uncharacteristically ebullient, gushing: "I've never felt more alive. I will die happy one day, and tonight has helped me towards my cause of smiling my arse off when I'm dead." He then tried to palm me off with some feeble Lark Trap about the band members having met and bonded in the dark during a power cut, but it actually transpired that they had found each other using community website Gumtree. By this point, a sizeable crowd had gathered outside, led by the inevitable smoking contingent, and there was a real post-gig buzz in the air. Throwing myself into the throng with notebook in hand, I asked a few of the punters for their first impressions of XVII The Hangman. Here's what I got:

"Dirty, dirty and a bit sort of gritty, but definitely dirty. Absolutely." Vicky

"I nearly wet my pants." Erin

"A big bleached cake-hole." Anonymous

"They were great - black and gold like a duracell battery" Lee-Roy

"The Dirty Socials - they're the ones." Moxie

"Orgasmic!" Harriet

"Awe-inspiring. I'd like to hear more." Dylan

"No comment." Dan

"I hate hypocrisy." Mat

"The first time I've seen the real Nick Sheldon on true musical form." Brian

"I didn't even see them." John

XVII The Hangman will next be playing at the (free) Shoreham Beach Dreams Festival on Sunday 8th June. Sadly, I won't be able to make it, as I'll be rehearsing for my own musical comeback - a charity concert at Hailsham Pavilion which will take place later that same evening. But if you have the luxury of motor transportation, there's no reason that you can't do both. Oh, and if you want to know the significance of the post title, you'll have to ask Mr Sheldon.