Old-School Cool

skinny

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^ Imagine the looks you'd get rolling in out of the grey like that. There'd be legends told of your heroism, brutality and holiness for a t'ousand years, so there would.
 

cycleboy2

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44229683_1916065818440247_6597433400062115840_n.jpg
Marilyn Monroe reading James Joyce - surely that's old-school cool and then some?!

(And she's managed far more of it than I ever did. Ulysses is one of the very few books I've started but couldn't finish. Life's too short...). And in a Fortean/urban legend kind of thing, there's no extra digit on her left foot!
 

skinny

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^ Fake. She found that book at the playground. Doesn't even know where a book begins (but then, neither did Joyce). Tut
Now, about that dress then...
 

Ogdred Weary

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^ Fake. She found that book at the playground. Doesn't even know where a book begins (but then, neither did Joyce). Tut
Nonsense, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man open with "Once upon a time" like all good stories should.

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo....
His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face.
He was baby tuckoo. The moocow came down the road where Betty Byrne lived: she sold lemon platt.
O, the wild rose blossoms
On the little green place.
He sang that song. That was his song.
O, the green wothe botheth.
When you wet the bed, first it is warm then it gets cold. His mother put on the oilsheet. That had the queer smell.
His mother had a nicer smell than his father. She played on the piano the sailor’s hornpipe for him to dance. He danced:
Tralala lala,
Tralala tralaladdy,
Tralala lala,
Tralala lala.
See? It's all fine.
 

blessmycottonsocks

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Does this count?
I've owned two of these gorgeous, if primitive-looking cars over the years.
Was lovely while it lasted. When I just needed a car big enough for a rucksack and maybe a guitar.
Can picture it now, rolling that canvas roof back and heading to the south coast.
But then responsibilities - kids and stuff came along and it was more practical but far less fun cars thereafter.

IMG_0546.JPG
 

maximus otter

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Does this count?
I've owned two of these gorgeous, if primitive-looking cars over the years.
Was lovely while it lasted. When I just needed a car big enough for a rucksack and maybe a guitar.
Can picture it now, rolling that canvas roof back and heading to the south coast.
But then responsibilities - kids and stuff came along and it was more practical but far less fun cars thereafter.

View attachment 14127
Do they still come out of the factory with those poxy “Nuclear Power, No Thanks!” stickers on the back?

maximus otter
 

escargot

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Vivien Leigh as Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream at The Old Vic (1937):
She was SOOO beautiful, which made her work hard to be taken seriously as an actor.
There was also the bipolar disorder. David Niven wrote about taking care of her during an incident of mania which lasted a few days and nights while her husband was away. He gallantly didn't name her at the time.
 

Yithian

Parish Watch
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She was SOOO beautiful, which made her work hard to be taken seriously as an actor.
There was also the bipolar disorder. David Niven wrote about taking care of her during an incident of mania which lasted a few days and nights while her husband was away. He gallantly didn't name her at the time.
Not too shoddy, was she?

Fag break during filming of Gone With The Wind (1939):

v8qdeo4snka21.jpg
 

GNC

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It's a pity Gone With the Wind has been repurposed as that old racist movie these days, because Vivien Leigh was brilliant in it. She was great elsewhere too, but nothing that would overshadow GWTW.
 

escargot

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It's a pity Gone With the Wind has been repurposed as that old racist movie these days, because Vivien Leigh was brilliant in it. She was great elsewhere too, but nothing that would overshadow GWTW.

Her next film, Waterloo Bridge, was one of her own favourites. Saw it once, too depressing for words.
 

Lord Lucan

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Further to the above, apparently, this is the only existing photo of Concorde flying at Mach 2. Allegedly taken by an RAF Tornado pilot, who struggled to keep up for long enough to take the picture:
View attachment 14350
My wife and I visited the U.S.S Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum in New York back in May of last year. They have a Concorde there that you can take a tour of, usually just walking through the front door, down the aisle and exiting the rear door. This comes at an extra cost to the museum admission. We chose to take the Concorde tour and were surprised that despite it being Fleet Week, we were the only two on the tour. Hence, we spent a few minutes outside with the guide being told about the aircraft before boarding her. We then got to sit in Her Majesty's preferred seat and Mick Jagger's chosen chair before getting to spend 15 minutes in the cockpit, a part not usually available on the regular tour. Here's a few pics of the cockpit, pay special attention to the 3rd image. Oh, and by the way, Concorde is as cool as fuck!
concorde1.jpg

concorde2.jpg

concorde3.jpg
 

Bad Bungle

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Frank Dolmon setting off on his 60th Sunbeam Motor Cycle Pioneer Run from Epsom Down to Brighton.
And a picture of my dad on his mate's Sunbeam in the late '40s, which was cool (to me).

*Mr Frank Dolmon contacted the Telegraph this week to say that wasn't a picture of him*

Sunbeam.jpg Dad on Sunbeam_0003.jpg
 
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Victory

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Herc Flyer.jpg

Though the building blocks of Hip Hop existed in the decades before this (Pete Jones DJing between two decks, various Jazz vocalists rapping, break dancing, spraycan graffiti etc) this is the flyer for the first acknowledged Hip Hop party...Cindy Campbell's "Back to School Jam" in the
rec room at 1520 Sedgwick Avenue in the West Bronx, New York.
The DJ was her brother Clive Campbell aka Kool DJ Herc.
Now that's Old School!
 

maximus otter

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l remember hearing an anecdote about George Best. l‘d love to believe it’s true, but here goes anyway:

It was after GB’s football career had peaked and begun its long downhill slide, but while he was still an international superstar. He and his Miss World girlfriend Mary Stavin had booked into a top hotel (in Ulster?) After a night in a local casino, he and she retired to their luxury suite. Playfully, George spread their huge winnings, in cash, over the bed while Mary “slipped into something comfortable”.

GB decided that a bottle of vintage champers would add to the mood, and phoned Room Service. A few minutes later the night porter, an old Ulsterman, arrived with the bottle. George opened the door. The night porter’s seasoned eye took in the scene: Opulence, a bottle of the best, a bed groaning under a king’s ransom, Miss World in lingerie in attendance on a world-renowned sporting hero, and uttered the immortal words:

So, George, when did it all start going wrong for ye?

maximus otter
 

Victory

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l remember hearing an anecdote about George Best. l‘d love to believe it’s true, but here goes anyway:


So, George, when did it all start going wrong for ye?

maximus otter
I heard the same story told by George Best on the Radio, but I might have been mistaken how I heard the story.
In the version I thought I heard, Best said that the night porter was from an area of Belfast near where George grew up [so I guess they must have chatted on another occasion?].
At the time of listening I thought the old Ulsterman shook his head and asked George "Where did I go wrong?"
 

Comfortably Numb

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l remember hearing an anecdote about George Best. l‘d love to believe it’s Trude, but here goes anyway:
After posting the image, I was thinking about this anecdote...

...because, almost word-for-word, you have regaled one of my late dad's favourite stories.

It was my dad who first told myself the tale... magic response, cheers. :evillaugh:

On me...


:beer:
 
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