Friday November 16th 2018.

The opening slot tonight went to the late Alun Rhys Jones – he’d been standing under his newly installed shower too long and lost track of time. He made up for his tardiness with two to get us all singing –  “Silver Dagger” and “Three score and ten”, surely the jolliest song ever written about hundreds of blokes drowning.

Brian followed. Eventually. He sat patiently for several minutes as the audience hurled abuse and generally took the piss before starting. Mike wasn’t impressed when he sang “Lord Franklin” as he claimed it was on his list for the night.

Mike was again guitarless – don’t give up! You’re already streets better on it than most from another local club. One of Mike’s songs was Kate Rusby’s “Cruel”, a song about the Press Gang. For those unfamiliar with the concept, the Press Gang had nothing to do with the tabloids. A team of civil servants would tour the country offering free, all expenses paid holidays to the lucky recipients. On arrival at their exotic location, the serendipitous young men, in their smart new suits (included in the deal) would be invited to meet members of the local community and then either shoot them or stick a bayonet (included) in their chests. Oh, what fun they all had.

My set was not as bad as I’d expected. I did a couple from “The Northeast”. Obviously the geographical term is dependent on where you’re standing.

We were treated to an all too rare visit from Keith Price.

 

 

 

Still suffering from shingles, Keith said he had come down to Rhyl because his toilet was broken and he couldn’t get a plumber till tomorrow. In terms of illness,  a recurrent attack of Varicella-zoster virus trumps either a bad shoulder or a dodgy knee. A variant of “Green grow the rashes” was followed by a couple of Irish polkas. Make the most of these Irish imports, they soon won’t get past the hard border coming their way after “no deal”.

Adrian was going to recite a poem for us, but alas, couldn’t remember it.

T Gwyn did come up with the goods and we were treated to some Kipling and some over sentimental stuff in Welsh (according to my translator beside me).

The Break. Colin wold have won a tenner if he’d been there.

 

Rick started off with a tune wot ‘e ‘ad ‘rote. Maybe he’ll get round to the words next week. (Very well played, to be fair).

Jeffrey included a version of “The Tennessee Waltz”, with verses from several perspectives, some only suitable for adults.

Mel did Hamlet in 3 minutes. This abridged version leaves me no wiser as to what the hell it’s about but leaves me in awe of his ability to remember words.

EmCee, as usual timed things to perfection by allowing us all one more each. Jeff did something Christmassy; too early and too much religion in it – bugger off and come back nearer the time (as I have been heard to say to many a carol singer, even on Christmas Eve).

With each successive song the tone sank lower, culminating in Keith’s interpretation of “Lovely Annie”. Please listen to this only if you are wearing your incontinence pants, if starts off sounding like something off Martin Carthy’s 2nd album, but beware.

Next week we will start selling raffle tickets for the bottle of Jack Daniels “Sinatra Select” brought by Steve Jones. £1 a ticket, but you can buy as many as you want. The winner will be drawn (and possibly hung and quartered if it’s Adrian) at the Christmas party night on the 14th Dec. Also included, courtesy of AWR is a Folk Club hip flask. These are available to non winners at £7.50.

 

 

 

 

 

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