TRAPPED IN A MASONIC WORLD

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And of course this was no accident, or a case of bad teaching, as it was deliberately contrived, that way
they could then churn out clone like moulded workers, who were then in turn released into the outside
world to join the rest of the working class machinery, where waiting for us with open arms were our newly
adoptive mentors of the ―brotherhood‖, alias the trade union bosses and their representatives, who in their
eyes had an automatic claim on us, as we were a manmade product, produced especially for ―them‖, as part
of our wages was ―rightfully theirs‖, and what the Labour party relied on to survive by way of
contributions. And from the schools perspective, and of course any governments, these were the ideal sort
of pupils, as they had no real desire to learn or achieve anything in particular, but who were still cute
enough to know how to keep their heads down and stay out of trouble. And this is what these sorts of
schools wanted, and of course still do; nodding dog, baaing sheep like children who they can shape into
no-questions-asked-robots, and who were now supposedly ‗model citizens‘, ready for public duty and
service to help continue in their ruining of our country and world as whole.
Then when it was your time to go and discuss your future with the careers officer, they would look at
you in astonishment if you dared contemplated any kind of job other than a ―blue-collar‖ one, - though
joining the army, they‘re always been keen on. Unlike grammar, or public school boys, - us urchins were
in a sense led to believe a stockbroker worked in a warehouse stacking up the stock, as opposed to making
thousands of pounds in commissions on the stock exchange. This particular careers officer looked down
his nose at me and said: ―Hmm..., Av you ever thought of joining the army?‖ - He then glanced at my
records, and seemed to appear to run his finger under my Irish surname: M.c.C.a.n.n, he sort of coughed
and soon changed the subject: ―Ah yes, I really do think your do well in lively environment, somewhere
like the Metal Box where you can get your hands dirty, and where there‘s loads of loud music playing all
the time‖.
He seemed to emphasis the ―loud music‖, trying to make it sound like a ―fun job‖, and that in some way
it would be like working in a disco, - as nightclubs were once termed! The Metal Box made tin cans etc.,
for companies like Coca-Cola, - music blared from the Tannoy system to help drown-out the unbearable
noise of the machinery, many local people became partially death because of this health problem, and
when on a hot summer‘s day and with the factory windows open you could hear the industrial clamour
from miles away. ―What about James Lytham, you‘d make a good forklift driver after a couple of year‘s
apprenticeship, - they were a local timber merchant, - then there‘s always the Initial Towel Service.‖
[ITS]. The ITS were also a local company that provided clean roller towels, sanitary units, overalls and
aprons to various kinds of businesses.
I ended up getting a job at two of the companies; James Lytham‘s and ITS, where I worked for a
several months between 1976-77. I detested them, both were dead-end jobs and the wages paid were such
an extorting pittance, - that not even Primark overseas workers would‘ve worked for it. My only
highlight during this period, was when in 1977 Marc Bolan from T-Rex fame, once opened the side door to
the Rainbow theatre in North London, when I and my co-worker were delivering roller towels for the
toilets, - they‘d been rehearsing for a gig they were performing there that night. Part of my job was to
replace the empty towel machines with clean ones, the machines were mounted on the walls of the public
toilets and inside the dressing rooms. The Rainbow theatre was a famous venue where many a rock band
and singer once performed: Michael Jackson, as the Jackson Five, Alice Cooper, James Brown, Pink
Floyd, Deep Purple, David Bowie, Bryan Ferry and many others have played there. I see David Bowie
and Brian Ferry, and my sister went a see The Osmond‘s and the Bay City Rollers. Iggy Pop had just
gigged there, and The Clash were about to play their soon, as I remember their poster being pasted up on
the wall advertising the fact, and whilst I changed the towels in the Gents toilets. It was a big venue and
the job took about 45 minutes to visit all the lavatories and change the machines etc.
By the time I had reached the dressing rooms, certain members of T-Rex‘s band and their groupies were
lazing around, the room was full of cigarette and cannabis smoke, and as I entered the toilet I noticed the
cubicle door closed. I just commenced as normal and started to replace the old with a new roller towel,
when every now and again I could hear an almighty roar and quick succession of farts coming from
whoever was sitting on the toilet behind that cubicle door, - when a minute or so later I heard the flushing
of the toilet cistern, then the door swung open and out walked Marc Bolan. Wow, Jeepsters I thought,
Life‘s a Gas, as he‘d just dropped his guts in the toilet. I almost gagged due to the stench, but was far too
embarrassed to run back out again, so held my breath and soldiered on to change the towel machine!
[sorry about that, T-Rex‘s Jeepsters, got to No 2 in UK charts in 1971, Life‘s a Gas was the B side]. I
wasn‘t in awe of him, and if I were, well that could have been a turning point. I‘d seen him before, he
once lived down the road in the same borough as me, Hackney, where I was born and lived at the time, and
even though he moved out of the area in the early 60‘s, he could still regularly be seen walking about the