Post by admin on May 14, 2005 2:19:17 GMT 1
Customer Reviews:
Chubby Raises The Bar
As an American long fascinated by both the UK Punk and Soccer scenes, I was delighted when I heard this book was coming out. For the most part it lived up to my ( admittedly very high ) expectations. At the age of thirteen I had purchased the first Combat 84 record at a used record stall in Boston, having heard them late at night on college radio. For better and worse, that and some other discs provided the soundtrack to my teenage life.
Chubby's book is bare knuckle stuff. If you are looking for cuddly puppies, flowery metaphors or even a linear narrative, avoid this book like the plague. Since I was expecting the same brickwall attitude that Henderson brought to his music, I wasn't let down. Be forewarned that it's often confusing stuff, Chubby drops you right in the middle of the action and lets you figure it all out for yourself.
The drawbacks-no photos !!! Surely some exist from this era. I only know what a "casual" truly looks like from my own brief trip to England in 1988. Henderson is also awfully skimpy on his own background, which I think would have added a nice touch. ( You keep wondering who the hell is this guy besides a hooligan ? ). Finally, as an old skinhead I would have appreciated just a smidge more on his band. They still regularly get name checked and played to this day. It's almost criminal that Chubby gives them about two pages, if that.
All in all though, a great read. We're thinking of starting a Headhunters "support" club in my hometown. ( Just kidding ).
Low expectations and a large pile of cans.....
Proof if it were needed that the only qualification needed to write one's biography and have it published is the knowledge that you have done something.....
I wanted to dislike Henderson's book; I'll admit it now. I still remember seeing him on BBC's 'Arena' programme back in the 80's, fronting Combat 84, who may not have been explicitly an extreme right-wing skinhead band, but they gave expression to lots of lads in my local town who were indeed worshipful of Adolf Hitler.
Henderson graduated to become 'somebody' at Chelsea in the 80's. OK, many people graduated from the Shed to the benches and became part of the late 20's/early 30's crew who did the business. I used to travel down from East Anglia with a couple of guys, George and Rick, who were also eminently qualified to do the business were it required of them. It rarely was, and they were more than happy to head back to a Saturday night session that became a Sunday morning session the next day in their local.
Henderson recounts events at a time when Chelsea had lost their way, as it were, in the supporter stakes. Ginger Terry Last, Icky and the other boys of the time were in jail fighting their convictions, many other faces were getting on with their lives, and so he rose into the limelight and ran into trouble.
Henderson is honest about what he did, and in many ways he proves the increasingly obvious tenet that it is pointless writing books about one's expolits as a football fan who got involved in trouble. The lifestyle lends itself to the luvvie world of literature about as much as a hard core animal rights activist thinks about precision joinery. If you see what I mean. The book kept me amused on a 45-minute flight from Edinburgh to Luton, but then I wanted to throw it in the bin.
henderson's lot paint themselves as a sad little gang; no experience seems to be too low for them. Stranded after having a serious coach crash in the Pyrenees, the local village opens its arms to them. They gas out the local disco and steal the hotel bar's takings.
Football hooliganism is not dead; even fifteen years after Henderson rampaged through the streets of Europe we witness much the same from the same pale skinned, balding, over weight and tattooed men, still clinging to the sodden driftwood that is their 'nationality'; their aryan pride.
The logical next step for the publishers might be a book that recounts the mildly amusing exploits of a burglar or a drink driver.
exciting ,gripping,a true street culture book.
finaly the facts not the fiction,honesty when they got done,the truth when they were involved,no standing on sidelines with this baby,great to read about other things punks, skins, casuals,etc.....
Chubby Raises The Bar
As an American long fascinated by both the UK Punk and Soccer scenes, I was delighted when I heard this book was coming out. For the most part it lived up to my ( admittedly very high ) expectations. At the age of thirteen I had purchased the first Combat 84 record at a used record stall in Boston, having heard them late at night on college radio. For better and worse, that and some other discs provided the soundtrack to my teenage life.
Chubby's book is bare knuckle stuff. If you are looking for cuddly puppies, flowery metaphors or even a linear narrative, avoid this book like the plague. Since I was expecting the same brickwall attitude that Henderson brought to his music, I wasn't let down. Be forewarned that it's often confusing stuff, Chubby drops you right in the middle of the action and lets you figure it all out for yourself.
The drawbacks-no photos !!! Surely some exist from this era. I only know what a "casual" truly looks like from my own brief trip to England in 1988. Henderson is also awfully skimpy on his own background, which I think would have added a nice touch. ( You keep wondering who the hell is this guy besides a hooligan ? ). Finally, as an old skinhead I would have appreciated just a smidge more on his band. They still regularly get name checked and played to this day. It's almost criminal that Chubby gives them about two pages, if that.
All in all though, a great read. We're thinking of starting a Headhunters "support" club in my hometown. ( Just kidding ).
Low expectations and a large pile of cans.....
Proof if it were needed that the only qualification needed to write one's biography and have it published is the knowledge that you have done something.....
I wanted to dislike Henderson's book; I'll admit it now. I still remember seeing him on BBC's 'Arena' programme back in the 80's, fronting Combat 84, who may not have been explicitly an extreme right-wing skinhead band, but they gave expression to lots of lads in my local town who were indeed worshipful of Adolf Hitler.
Henderson graduated to become 'somebody' at Chelsea in the 80's. OK, many people graduated from the Shed to the benches and became part of the late 20's/early 30's crew who did the business. I used to travel down from East Anglia with a couple of guys, George and Rick, who were also eminently qualified to do the business were it required of them. It rarely was, and they were more than happy to head back to a Saturday night session that became a Sunday morning session the next day in their local.
Henderson recounts events at a time when Chelsea had lost their way, as it were, in the supporter stakes. Ginger Terry Last, Icky and the other boys of the time were in jail fighting their convictions, many other faces were getting on with their lives, and so he rose into the limelight and ran into trouble.
Henderson is honest about what he did, and in many ways he proves the increasingly obvious tenet that it is pointless writing books about one's expolits as a football fan who got involved in trouble. The lifestyle lends itself to the luvvie world of literature about as much as a hard core animal rights activist thinks about precision joinery. If you see what I mean. The book kept me amused on a 45-minute flight from Edinburgh to Luton, but then I wanted to throw it in the bin.
henderson's lot paint themselves as a sad little gang; no experience seems to be too low for them. Stranded after having a serious coach crash in the Pyrenees, the local village opens its arms to them. They gas out the local disco and steal the hotel bar's takings.
Football hooliganism is not dead; even fifteen years after Henderson rampaged through the streets of Europe we witness much the same from the same pale skinned, balding, over weight and tattooed men, still clinging to the sodden driftwood that is their 'nationality'; their aryan pride.
The logical next step for the publishers might be a book that recounts the mildly amusing exploits of a burglar or a drink driver.
exciting ,gripping,a true street culture book.
finaly the facts not the fiction,honesty when they got done,the truth when they were involved,no standing on sidelines with this baby,great to read about other things punks, skins, casuals,etc.....