Rhyl Folk Club

On a warm Friday night, we had a reasonable turnout of enthusiastic punters to welcome, and sing along with, our guests Victoria Kettle’s Rolling Folk.

What a breath of fresh air. Bouncy, effervescent Virginia had us all singing to the songs wot she ‘ad rote, even though we’d never heard the choruses (chori?, for the pedants) before. Many of us were wondering if the Buckfast tonic wine or whatever she was on was giving her the energy, and where can you get it.

Some of the band were familiar to us; a selection of the Northwest’s finest.

Husband John on guitar,

Claire “Fluff” Smith on violin and viola (yes guys, size matters)

Mark was hitting lots of stuff and blowing into his whistles,

Chris was unobtrusive, standing on the end looking cool, as is the habit of bass players, knocking out fabulous lines on his bass. The other instruments get all the attention but it’s the bass and percussion that form the backbone.

Virginia seems to have a limitless repertoire of songs all belted out with boundless enthusiasm.

You could tell by the number of CDs that were bought at the end how popular the band had been. I suspect they’ll be back before long.

No club next week as the room is unavailable. Big thanks to Fred for his sterling work MCing again, and remembering Rachel’s Birthday. This is probably her 3rd this year, hoping that people will buy her a drink every time. By my reckoning she must be getting towards her 2nd Royal telegram.

Despite roadworks closing off the A55 again for me (and the band) on the way home, it was a perfect night, being rounded off with a dram of Tamnavulin outside in the peace of rural Cheshire under a full moon with my lovely lady. See you all on the 12th, when it’s back to the coffin dodgers.

I’m having a bit of a break from weekly blogs, but last night was so good I felt I had to write something. Thankfully well attended, with almost 40 (well padded) bums on uncomfortable seats.

The main draw was an extended spot from Cecryn.

Normally, I’d just take the piss out of these three, but what a show they gave us. We’ve paid good money for pro turns that couldn’t hold a candle.

Ok, there were a few glitches, and Alun spent an inordinate amount of time having people fasten his new “bra” strap (stopped him being too bouncy, a bit like a sports bra).

Nick Jackson has many hidden talents; sadly we don’t know what they are as they are all hidden.

Breaking News – Greater manchester Police are on the lookout for a drag queen who robbed a corner shop; they say they are on the lookout for a man with a Wigan address.

All the other floor spots were outstanding, without exception. Even I managed to get through with no major cock ups. In addition to “Blokes with a guitar”, we had flute and harp, with a smattering of gob irons.

Singers’ nights on the 15th and 23rd, then we have Virginia Kettle’s Rolling Folk on the 29th

Our guests tonight were Kimber’s Men, all the way from West Yorkshire. I suppose someone’s got to be from there.

Steve Smith has now been put out to grass, and the new line up includes Lloyd, singing the high harmonies.I couldn’t decide if Lloyd was very tall or the others were a bit on the shortarse side. I suspect he’s also been chosen as a much needed “Babe Magnet” for the ageing boy band.

Alun had asked John if we could have lots of chorus songs, and they didn’t disappoint. A few oldies and a few we didn’t know, but we belted ’em out. There was even some very “ambitious” material.

** Breaking News** – King Charles is said to be distraught on hearing the news of his brother Andrew’s death in a car accident next Wednesday.

Their guitar playing is coming on, although the instruments only came out for one song. “Fast Fret” wasn’t needed on the strings as their fingers were coated in greasy Rhyl chip fat.

As usual, there was plenty of banter – they can take the stick as well as dish it out.

Before we came over from Cheshire, I was wondering if perhaps we’d seen too much of them, having booked them 3 or 4 times in the last few years. No, always a cracking good night. Chances are we’ll see them again before too long.Probably the best fiver’s worth you can get (except possibly “Big Lil” on Burton’s corner).

Back to singers’ nights for a while, with time off for good behaviour on Good Friday.

An unexpectedly high turnout for a wet January night – we must be getting something right. MC of the night Alan was unable to do a Burns set last week but made up for it tonight.

Aaaahh! The soft tones of Michael Hawkins; couldn’t you just listen to him all night?

“The Lock Keeper” is a song written by Canadian Stan Rogers, which I managed to stumble through without too many mishaps. Couldn’t be said of my accompaniment to Lesley’s Dougie Maclean fiddle tune.

The Melania movie, or news of it’s abject failure, has been in the news this week; apparently it’s so bad, if you showed it on a plane, people would still walk out.

“Over the Moon!” is a phrase we’re all tired of from everyone and anyone, footballers to lottery winners. Terence highlighted this in a very entertaining poem.

BMJ were back with thei high energy singalong set. Deservedly Alan gave them a set of three.

“River Run” was Alun’s song from another Canadian, James Keelaghan, about growing old, something we can all relate to.

“Gaffer” was back! No flashy dance moves tonight as he was wearing his drainpipe trousers. Instead we were enlightened as to the causes of WW1.

Today I learned that the average Brit swears 14 times a day. Good to know I’m above average at something.

To Take us up to the break, JW had a set about the lake and swamp formerly known as Cornwall.

The second half started with multicolloured Carole reading 2 of her poems. In contrast to John, these were quiet and gentle.

The calm remained with us as Geoff D sang “The Waters of Tyne”. Before the bridges were built, the only way across the river was in a small boat propelled by a bloke with a pair of whores ( that’s what he said, I’m sure).

Dave, no longer a Rhyl virgin, had cocaine running round his brain. Probably safer than Fentanyl. Rick completed the line up with more fast food containing lots of UPF and calories.

No club next week as it’s first Friday. Singers’ nights throughout the rest of February and Kimber’s Men on March 13th, definitely not to be missed.

A name that comes up quite regularly is John Wright. Sadly no longer with us, many at the club never saw him – here’s a clip.

A big turnout for a glimpse of the new boy band on the block, Cecryn. I got the short straw for MC, so I was a busy lad taking notes, photos and keeping the show going. Surely you couldn’t expect me to be nice to people as well?

Adam had again been first to arrive to help with the set up. We persuaded him to forget his nerves and sing and he kicked off with a selection from “The Sound of Music” **.

There was Robbie Burns from me and also from Geoff.

**Part or all of this may not be true.

Percussionist Emerald had a bloke with a whistle to accompany her tonight; he also read a poem.

Brian had matching shoes and jumper and chorus songs. Dafydd was depressing us with Len Cohen.

The boys and girlls were doing as I’d asked and cutting out long introductions etc as there was probably more content available than time. No memory problems tonight for Mike – yet another lovely set.

Nick Jackson, Alan Manouch and Alun Rhys Jones are three of my oldest and best friends. Doesn’t say much for me really does it? They are now a 3 piece combo and needing a practise audience, volunteered themselves for an extended spot. Begrudgingly, I have to admit that it went down well. Lots of chorus songs and the odd tune. There would be a further slot from them to end the night.

The break. First Easter Egg of the year in the raffle. I can’t believe it’s still over a month to Pancake Day and the supermarkets are already selling flour and eggs.

After the break we had a selection of elderly silver haired gentlemen in need of a haircut. First up was Rick. Barrett’s Privateers and Ghost Chickens in the Sky warmed people up but many still weren’t prepared for what was to follow.

“Gaffer” rarely descends from his cave up on the Orme, but ventured down to join us.I cannot describe the set. To say he sang two songs wouldn’t come close. His athleticism belies his age. Choreography was by Darcey Bussell.

Poor John W had to follow that. In a state of shock he missed a verse from a song he’s sung hundreds of times. Carole brought some semblance of normality back to the proceedings with two of her poems.

Dave was new to us and borrowed Arthurs backing band for “Galway Girl”. It was great, don’t be so nervous next time. Arthur joined the ladies to complete the line up of floor spots with a rousing set.

We’ve paid good money to pro turns at the club who frankly couldn’t hold a candle to Cecryn (apparently Welsh for “curmudgeon” very apt). They rounded off a memorable night in style sending us home with one hand on the radio and one on the wheel. This is dangerous and probably illegal.

Ok, so I finished a bit late, but I wasn’t going to short change anyone who’d turned up to perform and who were without exception, excellent. No one left before the end, despite being constantly abused by the MC. Pete couldn’t believe it had only cost 3 quid! Back to a normal singers’ night next week. Any volunteers for MC?

Firstly, a big “thank you” to Adam who was already setting tables out when we arrived at 6.30.Fred has a contract (signed 20 years ago) to model for Head and Shoulders adverts, so he’s away with Lesley filming. Alan Manouch was threatened with a Chinese Burn, so he agreed to MC for the night, selflessly putting himself on first.

If you’re a “Stone Hugger”, you would really have enjoyed Barry’s first poem. His song seemed to be lacking something, possibly his tambourine basher.

After a protracted discussion about Lord Franklin seeking the back passage, Brian (who had obviously been plundering the Mike Hawkins song book) got on with the song. I thought lead poisoning took several months or years to kill you; how much tinned food did they have?

If the Flanders and Swann weather song, courtesy of Dafydd wasn’t depressing enough (but uncannily accurate), the poem about the soldier with PTSD would push you over the edge. Later our other poetry reader, Terence, was in a slightly more cheerful mood, so we were able to put the razor blades away. I suppose there was nothing about working in the cotton mills that wasn’t depressing, except the hooter at the end of the day.

There was a short delay while we played “Hunt the Finger picks” with Alun. Worth the wait for “Language of the Heart”. “Slip slidin’ Away”? – too many notes and too much reverb.

Poor Mike had to hurriedly rearrange his set, which had earier been plundered. “All things are quite silent” got off to a bad start, with an “oh, shit” and a glance at his scrap of paper. Otherewise a lovely set, as you’d expect.

This left Lesley and myself to finish round 1; mainly Scots stuff.

In the news this week – Robert Jenrick, MP for Newark, became the only MP whose constituency is an anagram of his description. Donald Trump ran the N Y marathon in record time says, “No big deal, I aced it”. Next week we have a singers’ night, enhanced(?!) by an extended spot from “Cecryn”, a selection of elderly gentlemen seeking stardom in their twilight years. Should be fun, don’t miss it, still only three quid.

With the weather having probably deterred a few, it was a bit quieter night, but more of an intimate night among friends.

Lesley P was still crying off with her cough, so Fred was solo. A gag straight from a Christmas cracker.

Dafydd read Leonard Cohen surrealism. We could use this photo below to monitor the progress of the cracks in the wall; maybe run a sweep on the day it’s going to fall down?

A couple from me withe the promise of “Hollands Meat pies” later. Greggs! Not in the same league.

Alun started off the New Year with a few words of the Dalai Lama. He had added a new (crap) verse to “The Blackbird”, a song composed almost totally of euphemism and innuendo.

Terence had lots of Edward Lear nonsense. Why did Shakespeare write a whole play about him? (the King, not Mr. Cavanagh).

It was the time of year for Mike to sing “The month of January”. Not a happy story. “30 days hath September………except January which has 56”. Always seems that way, we’ve only had a week, and it already seems never ending. A bad month to go “dry”.

There had been no Phillishave in Alan’s stocking this Christmas. “The Yew Tree” is a Battlefield Band song. describing the history of Scotland in the tree. There was no mention of Mel Gibson shouting “Freedom!” while being disemboweled.

Predictably entertaining poems written by Barry, before his melodeon tune was enhanced (some would say overshadowed) by Emerald’s exquisite tambourine bashing.

Earlier in the day, some of us had been to the funeral of Chas Jenkins. A club member for 30+ years, Chas could not get to the club as often as he’d have liked due to his commitment to Rhyl Scouts on a Friday evening. A more gentle, kind and funny guy you will never meet. He will be greatly missed, and thoughts are with Jan and the family. He can bore the arse off the angels with that awful “…push the damper in” song.

The next few weeks will be Powell free, but we’ll get by. Singers nights for the next 2 weeks with the 23rd being augmented by an extended spot from “Cecryn”.

This is it. The last blog of 2025. A nice turnout, with people from afar as Cheshire and Vancouver.

Fred and Lesley; you’ve no idea of the work this pair put in. First there every week, carrying chairs and tables from the other end of the building, last to leave and soooo much more. The club would struggle to carry on without them – a big thanks to you both.

I sang of Good King Herod, and Terence spoke of a baffled turkey. A Joni Mitchell song from Mike this week; not his usual style but he predictably did a stunning job with it.

More of the spoken word from Dafydd. His tale of the oik of a kid who ruined Christmas for the others by telling them Santa didn’t exist. Reminded me of my big brother.

With the final of “Strictly” probably being imminent (I won’t be watching it), Dave and Rose were reeling off the names of dances (pun was accidental – I’m not that sharp). Dave had boil washed his guitar, judging by it’s current size.

Tracy, the fruit of their loins, was making her debut appearance at Rhyl. Lovely voice. I can say with a degree of certainty that this was the first Muppet Christmas Carol song to be heard at the club.

Barry read his own version of “The Snowman” from his “illuminated manuscript”, not as cheesy as the Raymond Briggs tale.

As you know, I don’t do religion, but Alun’s “Deep Midwinter” is simply gorgeous. Makes Lesley’s Christmas every year.

The Break. What a raffle. Look what you could have won!

Warbie won the malt. I suppse he deserves it. There were almost as many prizes as tickets. Lots of butties, things made from pigs, mince pies. Probably shouldn’t have had tea before I came out.

This year I sent cards to some neighbours. Messages like “To the arsehole with the horrible yappy dog. Have a thoroughly shite Christmas” and signed it from the bloke with the noisy motor bike.

Brian had to regain everyone’s interest after the food and the gambling. I always enjoy his piece from the Sheffield Carol tradition. Kevin knew what he had to sing if he wanted his dangly bits to stay where they were.

Helen’s appearance from the far side of Canada waas an unexpected treat. That girl can bellt out a song!

“Mary’s Boy Child” from Geoff is another of those festive regulars we all love.

Last, and certainly not least were the Warbies. Two Christmas poems from Carole before John wound us up for the year with his regular closing song from his own club. Can I have your shirt when you’ve finished with it John?

We’re having a break, back on January 9th, a few pounds heavier. Enjoy your break and lets hope that 2026 isn’t the total shitshow that 2025 was. I look at the news every morning to see if he’s dead or been sectioned; you know who I mean.