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John Lennon


Bjornebye
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Lennon pllaying pool with Harry Nilsson I think Harry missed this shot as he was being put off with everybody talkin in the bar

 

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Got to be honest Nilsson's technique is shocking, head way too high, plus his bridge hand is all wrong and you never play wearing a jacket

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I can forgive that, but I can't let the berets go. Shameful wardrobe decision.

 

Looks like a Mick Hucknall fancy dress party.

 

Another observation I'd like to add is that I tend to find people who use that "through the finger" style of cuing to be crap at pool.  The best players, like me, all have an orthodox snooker-style technique.  Harry Nilsson's chin is also way too high.  He can't possibly get a good line of sight with his head at that height when playing his shot.  Everything about his stance screams "amateur".  I'd well fancy my chances against him.

 

It's a nice photo, though.

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These people are artistic geniuses, I don't think you need to over analyse their approach to playing pool from a still photograph, there's every chance that it was some sort of high art concept, whereby the pool ball not going into the pocket was a representation of society falling apart or a post modern comment on the prevalent drug culture of the mid-70s.

 

Having said all that, he was probably just shit at pool.

 

And that.

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I couldn't let it go.  That through-the-finger thing winds me up, there's no need for it.  

 

He's also wearing shades and running the risk of getting smoke in his eyes.  It looks like he's doing everything possible to lessen his chances of the ball going in the pocket.  It's all image, image, image with him.  I could go on...

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  • 1 year later...
On 09/12/2016 at 21:04, Mook said:

I would've walked right past it, it was -5 that day, which probably explains why there was no cunt there.

 

I don't mind Yoko as long as she's not 'singing'. Still can't believe they got a band together with Lennon, Mitch Mitchell, Clapton and Keith Richards in '68, played 2 songs and let her fucking sing on one of them, an all time greatest crime against music.

Wrong as usual, Mook.

 

They also rehearsed Revolution & here it is.

 

 

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  • 6 months later...
11 minutes ago, skaro said:

 

Bloody hell.  39 years ago.

 

 

I remember the day well, I was off school with tonsillitis, my mum and dad were in shock- it was like someone in the family had died. Years later, this was published on some fella's website, about the only good thing to come from it-

 

New York Diary

 

I'm not sure if I mentioned this but for a while I lived in New York. From the end of 1979 to December 1980. Here are some extracts from a diary I kept there. 

 

January 14th 1980: It's a funny place this, the car horn seems to be a means of communication although I can't quite decipher its intricate speech patterns. Saw Woody Allen. Ran after him so I could trip him up, lost him the crowds though. Met the neighbour. Seems all right. A bit fucking speccy though, the four eyed cunt. 

 

Feb 27th 1980: Damn, it's cold here. Lost one of my gloves. Ran into the neighbour earlier who said his wife found it but donated it to a tramp who lives outside the building. I fucking hate tramps and I include his poxy wife in that. 

Feb 28th 1980: Met their neighbour, asked him to please ask his wife to give me back my stuff if she finds it. The glove was monogrammed for fucks sake. He laughed. Said nothing but we'll see who's laughing, English wanker. 

March 19th 1980: Got talking to a bloke in work, Mark, who has some really strange ideas about life. He's not exactly somebody I'd go out for a drink with. He's one of those people who'd think he was your best friend or something and would turn up at your door with the latest Styx LP. 

 

April 11th 1980: Met the neighbour and his wife in the lift. Was very polite despite feeling very poorly. Think it was a hot dog and the 9 pitchers of beer I had. Didn't appreciate their looks of disgust when I farted though. Fucks sake, it wasn't that bad. Like either of them has never farted. By the looks of them I'd say they eat each others poo. 

May 19th 1980: Was on the phone with my dear old mam when someone started hammering on the front door. It's the wife from next door. "He claaaazy, go maaaaaaad" she shouts standing there stark naked and let me tell you that's the last thing I need to see. "Fuck off", I said and shut the door. 

 

May 20th 1980: Neighbour wakes me early, pounding on the door. Wants to know what his wife said. Told him to fuck off and if his wife comes around here nude again I'll call the police. He tells me seeing his wife naked is like having an affair with her. Told him I'd rather have an affair with a decomposing goat. He poked me in the chest. I clipped him around the ear. He tried to punch me. I kicked him in the balls and told him it was war. Which it is. 

June 30th 1980: That bloke in work is mental. Always reading the same book. Decided to wind him up a bit. Told him my neighbour knew him and was always saying bad things about him and how he was a mentalist and a window licker. He doesn't believe me though. 

 

July 25th 1980: Told Mark in work that the neighbour told me that when Mark was a lad that he got caught wanking with another lad from his school and that the neighbour was going to call everyone in his yearbook to tell them he was a benny. He looked a bit worried about that. Think I might have struck a chord. 

 

August 21st 1980: Not even on speaking terms with the neighbours now. Saw them going into their apartment and didn't say a word. Coughed and made the cough sound like 'cunts' though. heh. 

 

September 26th 1980: Told Mark I heard the neighbour writing a song about him last night. I didn't catch all the lyrics but it was all about him being a big gayer and liking the cock and so on. Told him that he should really do something about it or everyone would know he was a massive gayer who liked the cock. He seemed a bit introspective, a bit withdrawn. 

 

October 1st 1980: Told Mark the neighbour is sending me anonymously typed letters saying that he's going to release that song soon. Showed him one of the letters. Offered to try and mediate with the neighbour on Mark's behalf. He seemed relieved. Told him I'd get back to him as soon as I had any news. 

 

November 18th: Let Mark stew for ages. He's been asking every day. Told him last night I saw the neighbour and begged him to drop the song. I implored, pleaded, even supplicated to give him a break but he wouldn't do it. I told Mark I told him 'Think about this poor guy' and that the neighbour just laughed.

 

December 1st 1980: Saw Mark outside my building. Avoided him. He's gone even more mental these last few days. 

December 6th 1980: Told Mark in work that I'd met the neighbour and that the neighbour said he was going to do a live TV show in which he was going to perform the song about Mark for the first time on December 9th. He seemed very upset. Told him the neighbour called him a 'ball-licking fistaholic'. I was sure I saw tears. 

 

December 8th 1980: JOHN LENNON SHOT DEAD IN NEW YORK CITY. MARK CHAPMAN ARRESTED. 

 

Result. Rang the lads. Told them I'd be home by the end of the week. That'll teach you to give my glove to a tramp, Yoko, you cunt.

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  • 3 years later...
On 11/12/2016 at 17:06, Skidfingers McGonical said:

Well the line "if you want to be a hero, then just follow me" says it all.

wasnt that related to the "smile as you kill" line?

 

working class hero is a boss song. one of his best. Love watching the wheels go round aswell.

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  • 4 weeks later...

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