In 1966 Anthony Blond published a modern London guidebook edited by Hunter Davies * called The London Spy: A Discreet Guide To The City’s Pleasures. London was rapidly changing in those days and Blond republished an updated version in 1971. Even though it was now the seventies, and despite trying, The London Spy just couldn’t shake off its very ’swinging sixties’ feel. As a guide to the capital city the book has dated more than if Dr Johnson himself took you by the hand and showed you his streets of London.

The chapters about meeting the opposite sex come over as ridiculously old-fashioned and it’s worth noting that the chapter with tips for men is over sixteen pages long, whereas the chapter advising women (on how to meet a man in the capital), lasts just over one page. The main advice from which, essentially, is to remind women to avoid pubs if  they are alone, saying;

“You may be thirsty, but nobody, nobody will believe you.”

The last advice it gives to women is:

“Finally, don’t lie down in one of the parks in your bikini. Men will swarm like flies at the merest glimpse of your delicious body.”

The author even suggests that he has known men with children to send a child over to a sunbathing woman and get them to say:

“Daddy says, he is sure you would like an ice-cream.”

Office girls in St James' Park in the early seventies

I have now, believe it or not, covered the entire chapter for female readers, so I will now offer some excerpts from the chapter aimed at men, which is entitled;

Women for Men, 1: Pulling

So here is a chapter of practical counsel on how and where to make the acquaintance of willing young ladies – a useful art henceforth referred to as ‘pulling birds’.

1) PULLING BY DAY

The traditional place to get your eye in is down the King’s Road. Arm yourself with a pint or a Pimms or a Pernod and position yourself on the pavement outside the Chelsea Potter or the Markham Arms.

You know what you’re there for; they know what you’re there for. King’s Road birds are used to being accosted every 30 yards they walk. So, if a tasty one sails past you and she is still alone, you’re backing yourself to succeed where up to 15 other fellows have already failed that morning.

Boutique shopping on the Kings Road

Not that all King’s Road birds are groupies (girls passed around like a joint between members of a pop group). But they are wary. So have a few shapes by all means to get your chat flowing. But don’t be discouraged if you draw only blanks.

Now let the pulling proper begin, and, if you are still intent on sniffing a swinger catch a cab up to Kensington High Street. Here’s where the dolly birds shop.

In the old Biba’s, a gentleman, feigning short-sightedness or absent-mindedness or both, could wander downstairs and through a plush curtain. Bang into a huge roomful of up to 100 darlings, most only in tights and chattering like monkeys, as they tried on the gear. Regretfully the writer cannot personally endorse the new Biba in this respect, as he is barred.

A woman changing at Biba, note the two look outs watching out for the author of The London Spy

How to pull in Kensington High Street? There are as many well tried appraoches as there are for the act itself. Of course purely in the interests of the standards of the game you will do well to try to be slightly original. Invitations for a coffee ten to be reather dreary. ‘Haven’t I seen you dancing on Top of the Pops?’ is a stopper. ‘Can I do your washing for three weeks?’ had its vogue a while back.

The only grotty cliche which never dates (feminine vanity being what it is) is the ‘I’m a photographer…’ ploy. And a golden rule is. if she’s carrying anything (a hold-all, a Biba’s bag), take it from her firmly and continue walking in the direction she wwas heading. So she has got to tag along and listen to you unless she’s willing to resort to an actual scene, which would be uncool.

Don’t just snatch in the streets. Put yourself about in the shops, where the shopbirds have to stand around all day and get bored. They welcome a bit of action. So if you see one even vaguely showing out, interview her on the merchandise and follow up with your pitch. Specially recommended stores include Fenwicks, Bond Street, Simpsons, Piccadilly and Peter Robinsons, the Strand (remember a bird in the Strand is worth two in Shepherd’s Bush).

Carnaby Street 1967

As for the offices, be sure to visit J. Walter Thomson in Berkeley Square. This American-owned advertising agency is famous for recruiting spectacular birds, presumably to keep the clients calling. March purposefully into the main entrance and wander around with a brief case. Here’s where you will find the account executives’ secretaries. They are awfully keen if they think you are important.

A chair with matching secretary. How on earth did that go out of fashion?

If you have a fancy for Miss J. Hunter-Dunn and have the necessary gear and talents, get up to Campden Hill Tennis Club, Aubrey Walk, W8. Before 18.00 hrs. there are loads of birds and very few fellows. And they are friendly if they think you are the right sort – particularly the tasty mums. Or if the sun is shining proceed to the Serpentine Lido. Again its great for mums.

Cooling down in the Serpentine, 1969

2. PULLING BY NIGHT

Once a chap has mastered the arts of pulling by day, when a certain amount of front is needed even in swinging London, he’ll be able to pull at night with his eyes shut.

First there are the DISCOTHEQUES. You’ll find them all over the West End and in clusters in Earls Court, Swiss Cottage, South Kensington and Streatham. Young Ladies go to all these places with their mates in twos and threes and fours and fives and will deem it an unsatisfactory evening if they leave with their mates.

Where you will very definitely can pull are less way out scenes like Lulu’s, Young Street, W8 (nurses and secretaries), Die Fledermaus, Carlisle Street, W1 (Au Pairs), La Cage d’Or, Broadhurst Gardens, NW3 (Golders Green teenyboppers) and the 007 Room at the Hilton (hairdressers).

"Hello...you really are on my list of things to do tonight."

"I must say, you remind me of an aspirin...I'd like to take you every four or five hours."

But before the discos were the DANCE HALLS. Great British institutions where males and females go roughly in even numbers. Which are full every night of the week. In this respect we British don’t appreciate how lucky we have been – and still are.

The greatest of them all, where every puller worthy of the name has been and seen and conquered – the Hammersmith Palais. that brilliant pasticcio of neon, tinsel and plush. Evocative scents of hair lacquer, gin and Bodymist. And close on teh Palais’ patent leather heels – the Lyceum in the Strand. The Royal, Tottenham High Road, N17. The Orchid Ballroom, Purley. For the veteran puller, the magic of these names. And how bitter sweet the names gone by. The Locarno Ballroom, Streatham. The Atheneum, Muswell Hill.

The overseas puller in particular is exhorted to visit a real British dance hall. You’ll see darling birds in plenty (be careful about schoolgirls through – in their dolly rocker dresses it’s very hard to tell).

Hammersmith Palais in 1971

Pulling by night, part two, concerns the PUBS. Much cheaper than the discotheques, obviously, and even cheaper than the dance halls. Because all you need to work yourself into a striking position is a half pint of bitter in your hand.

Pubs are particularly good places for pulling middle class birds. Probably because these particular young ladies come from a back ground of scrimping and scaping on pleasures and comforts to pay for school fees. So they are perfectly happy to tag along on a date that costs the price of a few half pints of bitter. Yes, they’ll even drink beer too!

Notable pubs offering the above facilities include the Windsor Castle, Camden Hill Road, W.8, The Sun in Barnes, The Dove in Hammersmith, the Harrington Hotel, Gloucester Road, SW7. Pullers interested in the arty, purple-toenailed variety are advised to visit Henekeys (now the Earl of Lonsdale), Westbourne Grove, W11 and Finch’s and Queen’s Elm both in Fulham Road, SW10.

"Does yours keep offering you a half pint of Watney's Red Barrel? "

PULLING FOREIGN BIRDS

Where else in the world could a sportsman sniff out a darling from Dallas, a teenybopper from Tokyo, a raver from Rotterdam and a wobbly one from Woggawogga – all in one afternoon?

The interesting feature of recent years has been the upwards progress of North Americans to a position comfortably above the line. It appears that the old ‘hands-off’ line, ‘American boys like their goods freshly wrapped’ is no longer a totally inhibiting consideration.  Nevertheless international golden rules should be borne in mind irrespective of race or creed. In particular remember,

‘you’ll never score with a schoolteacher, but always with a nurse.’

French tourist at Trafalgar Square

Swedish tourist at Biba in Kensington. She's patently unaware that she's only encouraging the London Spy author. Barred or not.

"Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I wish I was a teacher."

There used to be a specialised scene for sniffing out Aussies – the Overseas Visitors’ Club in the Earls Court Road. Regretfully this now appears defunct. But you’ll find them quite easily in pubs in the Earls Court and Notting Hill areas. Look out for strapping big birds swilling pints and shaking with laughter. These are Aussies. Many of them are highly tasty. In the Surrey, Surrey Street, WC2…you’ll find not only birds but Fosters Lager too. What more could any man ask?

The Overseas Visitors Club in Earls Court

Au Pairs are pulled in discotheques designed for the purpose, which advertise ‘continental ambiance’ or sometimes even ’stim-mung’. Above all remember the golden  au pair rule – find where she’s living first. Many’s the unwary puller who’s found himself driving through the night to locations verging on the outlandish. Forest Hill. Watford and Camberley to name but three.

Well, there it is, puller. You’ve been reading long enough. Now stiffen your sinews, lick your lips, adjust your dress and go out and get ‘em.

The London Spy - A Discreet Guide To The City's Pleasures

If you need to brush on your pulling techniques or perhaps need to learn how to protect yourself, second hand copies of THE LONDON SPY can be bought here

Hunter Davies the original editor of The London Spy went on to write one of the greatest books ever. You can buy The Glory Game here.

The O’Kaysions – Girl Watcher

Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons – I Can’t Take My Eyes Of You

Frank Sinatra – What A Funny Girl You Used To Be

Moments and Whatnauts – Girls

'Spam a la Greque' served at the White Tower restaurant, 1 Percy Street, W1.

Everybody knows there was extensive food rationing during the second world war, in London, as well as the rest of the country. However meals eaten away from home, whether in expensive West End restaurants or industrial canteens, were what was called, ‘off ration’.

Rationing hadn’t lasted that long before it was soon noticed by many people, especially those working and living in the West End, that the rich seemed to be able to enjoy close to pre-war levels of gastronomy at the best restaurants and hotels.

Chaufroid de Volaille Yorkaise served at Piccadilly's Regent Palace Hotel. The chef hasn't gathered yet that it won't matter how much poking around he does, he won't make it look edible.

American Schnitzel Garni from a Russian restaurant

Spam served at Francati's. Mmm.

Vol au Vents of spam and white sauce with lettuce. Yum.

An Americanised Chinese meal made with, you've guessed it, more Spam

Many people bitterly resented the ostentatious gorging on expensive meals. There was a definite sense of, what was described by the Ministry of Agriculture and Food at the time as, ‘an inequality of sacrifice’.

In 1942 the Government acted by creating a flat maximum charge that prevented restaurants providing meals to customers that cost more than five shillings (25p). Although it was pretty easy for a few of the more salubrious restaurants to charge extras over and above this sum (say for the orchestra or the dancing and the like) generally though, the aim of the new law worked, and it pretty well made the morale-dissipating effect to disappear.

That said, it didn’t really matter how luxurious and expensive your establishment was, decent meat, along side many other ingredients, was often very hard to source. So throughout the war the ubiquitous Spam increasingly found itself on restaurant menus.  The cheap reconstituted pork product was invented in 1937 in America, and the name is either an abbreviation of Spiced Ham or short for Shoulder of Pork and Ham. No one seems to know.

The fascinating photos above were taken by Ralph Morse for Life magazine and published January 1944.

Planked Spam, double yum. A more typical British use of Spam during WW2 and beyond would have been Spam Fritters. These were often served in Fish and Chip shops as fish became more scarce.

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Noel Coward – London Pride

Marching to Trafalgar Square, 17th May 1972

On the 4th May 1972 about 200 boys aged between 11 and 16, put down their pencils and rulers at Quinton Kynaston School in the Finchley Road near St John’s Wood in North London, in a protest over unpleasant school dinners, caning, and the conformity of school uniforms. They swarmed over the school wall and not knowing really what to do next, decided to all go home.

The headmaster, Mr Everest-Phillips protested to the press:

“They have a choice of meals and incidents of caning have been negligible. I have only used it three times since last September. School uniform in summer consists of only a blazer.”

Steve 'Ginger' Finch

A few days later 18 year old Steve ‘Ginger’ Finch a pupil from Rutherford School in Marylebone organised a small group of pupils from his school and nearby Sarah Siddons Girls’ School. The rally of about 60 school children met initially at Paddington Green but then started out on an eight mile march to enlist support from other schools.

A school girl from Paddington and Maida Vale High School joining the demo.

The pupil power demonstration was called by the rebel Schools’ Action Union, of which self-confessed Marxist Ginger Finch was a member, who were mainly against caning, detention, uniforms and ‘headmaster dictatorships’. Eventually 800 pupils had joined the demonstration and Finch was arrested, charged with using insulting behaviour and obstruction.

Prime Minister Edward Heath decided to take no risks, remember this was only four years after students in Paris had brought down the French Government, and ordered MI5 and Special Branch to monitor the schoolchildren revolutionaries. Mr Heath asked Margaret Thatcher, then the Education Secretary to compile a report which warned:

“Some boys and girls are already beginning to develop political attitudes in an immature way…”

A march of 10,000 pupils was organised by the Schools’ Action Union and the National Union of School Students for the 17th May. The Government wanted to take no chances but were struggling to find out the exact nature and route of the march. A Conservative MP called David Lane forwarded a report based on the accounts of a group of girl ’spies’ who had infiltrated a meeting.

“The leaders spoke with Cockney accents and spoke illogically. It seemed there were a number of middle-class kids who were dressing badly to look working-class.”

The march on the 17th May became the high point of a few weeks of pupil radical power.

Boys having a crafty fag at Hyde Park, 17th May 1972

Girls having a crafty fag at Hyde Park

With the absence of Ginger Finch (after his arrest a few days previously) and no real leadership, the event started with confusion with half of the pupils marching to Hyde Park and half marching along the South Bank to County Hall chanting “attack the pigs,” and “we want a riot.”

Speakers' corner, 17th May 1972

The final mini riot at Trafalgar Square

The protesters had planned to hand a letter of protest to County hall, home of the Inner London Education Authority commonly known as the ILEA, but after arriving at their destination they realised the letter had been lost. In fact no one really knew who had the letter in the first place. The protesters subsequently marched on to Trafalgar Square where the demonstration eventually fizzled out.

Sir Philip Allen, Permanent Secretary at the Home Office said that although the march turned out totally disorganised, it shouldn’t detract from its significance “as a symptom of subversive influence”. However, and rather disappointingly really, the era of pupil-power was over almost before it had begun. The looming oil crisis and proper grown-up militancy became more important than whether school dinners were edible and school uniforms caused everyone to look the same.

Of all the original aims of the militant school-children from 1972, only the banning of corporal punishment in British schools has universally been achieved. Not at home though of course.

School Girl from Holland Park, May 1972

Slade – Look Wot You Dun

Alice Cooper – School’s Out

The Faces – Stay With Me

Mott The Hoople – Original Mixed-Up Kid

John Martyn playing at Les Cousins in 1968

John Martyn is pretty close to my favourite singer/songwriter. Only sixty, but I suppose he did party a lot. RIP.

John and Beverley Martyn – Primrose Hill

John Martyn – Glistening Glyndebourne

John Martyn in 1969

                    

The model Julie Harrison

On Saturday 6 December 1952 the performance of La Traviata at Sadler’s Wells was abandoned at the interval. The incessant coughing of the audience had become intolerable due to the dense ‘pea-souper’ smog which had been slowly creeping into the auditorium making the stage almost invisible to the people who had sat further back. Further west across London the greyhound racing at White City was halted when the dogs couldn’t see the hare, and reportedly a Mallard duck flying blindly across London smashed into Victoria station and crash-landed onto platform 6.

    

Before the dense fog had enveloped London the weather for the previous few weeks had been colder than normal. Houses throughout the capital in those pre-central heating days were burning large amounts of coal in a million fires and stoves – all of which were emitting a particulate-ridden sulphurous acidic smoke. Although it had been cold, the weather had been relatively fresh and clear but by Thursday 4 December the conditions had began to worsen. The breezes had stopped and the skies became greyer and the atmosphere had become noticably dank. By the next day the whole city had started to appear almost like a scene from Dickens’ Bleak House:   

Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city…Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.

 

The Fog on that Friday morning was thicker than anyone could remember even by people who had long considered the London smog just another aspect of living in the capital. The portmanteau smog was coined only forty five years earlier, by HA Des Voeux, who first used it in 1905 to describe the conditions of fuliginous (sooty) fog that occurred all too often in the capital city.  

The unpleasant impermeable fogs had been a feature of London for centuries and it wasn’t just Dickens who wrote about, as he would call it, the London Particular. The London fogs were described in the Sherlock Holmes’s stories and Louis Stephenson’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and the mythical quality of the fogs was reflected in any Hollywood film set in London, even after the era of the London ‘pea-soupers’ had past. Indeed the great smog of 1952 was the beginning of the end of the eye-stinging London Particulars.

 

  

By nightfall on Friday 5 December the smothering fog thickened and visibility in most of London dropped to a few metres. During the next day, the sun was too weak and low in the sky to make much of an impression on the fog and that night, and on the Sunday and Monday nights, it again thickened. In most of London, it was almost impossible for pedestrians, totally disorientated through lack of familiar landmarks, to find their way home. While, because of the dirt and the unpleasant taste of the smog, many people held ‘masks’ of gauze, scarves or handkerchiefs to their faces. On the Isle of Dogs, almost surrounded by the Thames, visibility was occasionally reported to be nil – the fog was so dense that people could not see their own feet.

Hospitals were soon filled with patients suffering from acute respiratory diseases and, almost un-noticed, deaths in the city began to mount. No one noticed at first until undertakers started to run out of coffins and florists were likewise running out of flowers. The very ill weren’t helped by ambulances, searching in vain for victims and clanging their bells frantically, unable to extricate themselves from the snail-paced traffic jams. 

The London smog, compared with a normal fog or even other urban smogs, was especially lethal because it contained high quantities of sulphur oxides (from the cheap sulphurous coal) that reacted with the moisture in the air to produce a dilute, but lung-corrosive, sulphuric acid mist. The killer brew could, to some people, trigger a massive inflammation of the lung – in other words thousands of people were dying almost through suffocation.  

     

 

 

 

The British Committee on Air Pollution finally estimated that during the five days that the smog smothered London, there were 4,000 more deaths than would have occurred under normal circumstances and during the next two months there were another 8,000 deaths caused by a direct result of the killer smog. Even during the next summer the death rate was 2% higher than normal.

Legislation followed the Great Smog of 1952 in the form of the City of London (Various Powers) Act of 1954 and the Clean Air Acts of 1956 and 1968. These Acts banned emissions of black smoke and decreed that residents of urban areas and operators of factories must convert to smokeless fuels. 

Nothing on the scale of the 1952 Great Peasouper has ever occurred again and it remains the nation’s worst single air pollution disaster. There has been an astonishing hundredfold reduction in atmospheric particulate levels in London over the last fifty years and the air, in most respects, is cleaner in the capital city than at any other time since the middle ages.

        

British Government film from the 1950s about the dangers of pollution.

Peggy Lee – Blues In The Night

Frank Sinatra – A Foggy Day In London Town

Johnnie Ray – The Little White Cloud That Cried

Johnny Mathis – Misty