The Queen visits Walthamstow Village!

Thursday the nineteenth of August 2010, a day that will go down in the history books, a day when Walthamstow stood proud, a day when the simple people of the East End put down their pints and said 'Fuck me, is that the Queen sitting over there?'







I'd just collected my dole money on Forest Road, had a pint at the Waltham Forest Social Club (leave September the third clear in your diaries as Tina Turner's making an appearance at the Town Hall) and caught a cab to the Village with the middle Ford. There was a buzz in the air, rumours were flying that a few members of the Royal Family were coming down to the Queens Arms on Orford Road for a question and answer session.




The pretty little thing above was a Miss Philippa of Belle Vue Estate. She smelled like a Summers day and looked radiant in black. Pick of the bunch, the people of Walthamstow treated her like a film star. I managed to steal a string of pearls from her vanity case and am currently trying to push 'pearls on men' as the must have look for Autumn/Winter 2010.





Unfortunately, Prince Philip didn't show up, he was overheard at Buckingham Palace, whilst shooting red squirrels in the garden, saying 'Walthamstow, why, I wouldn't be seen dead round those parts, full of ethnics.' He's not wrong.



I managed to meet some of the Queen's distant cousins, all slightly inbred, and most noticeably, quite hairy in places where there shouldn't have been hair. The lovely lady above, the Duchess of Titley Close, smoked like a chimney. A close friend of Camilla, she also had a face like a slapped arse.



So the Queens Arms has been put on the map for years to come. It isn't everyday that Royalty graces the beer garden of an East London pub, and I doubt it will happen again in the near future. I managed to get the number of the lady above, loved her fringe teamed with bouffant sides. I can see love on the horizon.

This unfortunate looking Royal had a potty mouth and attitude to match. Asking her whether she was sad when Diana passed away on that fateful night in Paris, she declared 'I couldn't give a fuck, Charles told me she was shit at sucking cock anyway.' With an official title of Lady of the YMCA, she then offered to give my friend a blowy in the gents. Nice lady.

After rubbing shoulders with the cream of nobility, I'm on holiday next week, hobbing and nobbing with the wonderful people of Vilamoura, on the Algarve. A hot spot for footballers and golfers, I am hoping to pap some real classy people. Hopefully they will be orange skinned and dripping in Pucci, Gucci and Primarni. Keep reading!

Spare Change guv'ner?

Jennifer Juniper rides a dappled mare.

Jennifer was hitting the ripe old age of 27. The anti wrinkle cream, which she has used since the age of 19, would have to be caked on in double amounts. Her back pains are getting worse and she complains about a lack of sleep. Jennifer has blossomed into a beautiful woman.

So we all went out for a bite to eat down Walthamstow Village, the only nice area in this section of London. 'Eat 17,' which has featured in Time Out's good eating guide, was our preferred destination. A lovely little restaurant selling English grub with a posh twist. I love Walthamstow Village, it makes me proud to be from this borough. Along with the dog track, now closed down, and Brian Harvey, who is probably running himself over as we speak, the Village has put us on the map, and it was a perfect place to go for Jennifer's birthday.

Most of the family were there. Kenny, the Ford clan's grandad, ex-sailor, ex-carpenter, was on top form. He opted for a medium rare steak and a dark rum, a true man's meal for a real gentleman. Born and raised in the East End, this man could whip up a wardrobe in the time you could brush your teeth. Always looking effortlessly handsome, Kenny wore a knitted jumper and trousers for the occasion. Famous for turning up at the Toby Carvery in a pinstripe suit, he has a style that no-one can match. A real pleasure when he makes an appearance, the man didn't let us down.

Young Alice and her hubby seemed to co-ordinate in nautical blue. An avid Tottenham fan, Andrew has had a bit of bother with the mother-in-law, who's a passionate gooner, but due to my allegiance to the mighty reds of the North, he seems to have slipped through the net. With Alice's hair getting blonder every day and tan getting deeper in that hot East End sun, Andrew is gonna have his hands full keeping hold of her. Having known her since she was 6 years old and witnessed her impression of Tina Turner on numerous occasions, the youngest Ford is always the life and soul of the party.

So after we ate, we were walking back to the car when we heard some rock and roll music blaring through the doors of the Queens Arms, and decided to take a peak. As you can see from the pictures above, the live music of 'Double Trouble,' who looked like a couple of scaffolders, was too much for Kate and Jennifer. Adam was tempted to ask for an autograph from the lead guitarist but was scared he would start a stampede, and I just sat as usual. It's good being a cripple sometimes. Least I never have to go to the bar.

It was a very important day coming up. A barbecue for 30 people at my house and also the start of the football season, perfect. We hailed a cab home and opened a bottle of wine to wind down. Five hours later we were still drinking in the front room as the sun started to come up. The mix of painkillers, wine, beer and anti depressants was a perfect cocktail for the 16 hour bender that was ahead.

So the girls got up after a couple of hours sleep and proceeded to cook tons of food and arrange the house so that the many people who were due to arrive could squeeze in. My job was to blow up the balloons. Another perk of just getting out of hospital. I decided to wear my liquorice all sorts knitted jumper and tweed jacket, I don't know why, maybe the lack of rest had affected my mind. We were all geared up for the day ahead.

Dave Hughes, aka the 'Budgie Smuggler,' turned up and instantly recognised the house from many years ago. As an awkward teenager, I had a party when the old folks were away. A few friends ended up sleeping in the front garden, one passed out in my bed and I woke up in the bath; those 3 hooch's really went to my head.

Outfit of the day went to Adam Mulhern. After his 'Thomas the Wank Engine' ensemble of a few weeks ago, he stole the show again in black bow tie, fitted white shirt and black skinnies. Hiding behind a pair of RayBan's due to a thumping headache, the man owned the barbecue. Producing burger after burger (Nottingham Chris had just arrived) his energy levels increased as the number of Carling in the bucket fell.

We were honoured that he lovely Miss Draper came to the do. Drinking vodka and coke in a wine glass, her Amersham class couldn't be suppressed. Calling me 'Philium' all day, which I may change my name to on depoll, I always get a bit morbid around her, which I apologise for. Now living in Leeds, I can report that she hasn't picked up a strange accent.

Cheeky Nottingham boy, Chris, a University friend of the middle Ford, became obsessed with my hat. Nicknamed 'Chrissy two burgers' for his ability to munch fast food in seconds, he fell asleep kneeling on the floor at about 4 o'clock in the morning. Rumour has it, Chris wants to move to London but has to man up if he wants to live in the big smoke. A lovely lad, if a bit of a lightweight, he's welcome back to my gaff anytime. Just warn me and I'll get the fridge filled up.

Even Stevey Ward turned up to the party. Having been banned from nearly every licensed premise in Chingford, and even friends houses for being a general pest, the lad was pretty well behaved. His karaoke performance was shocking, and the slurring of words increased with every jack and coke, but the dancing was inspirational.

All in all, the day went without a hitch, apart of the pissing down of rain all afternoon and the Chelsea score. The neighbours were probably fucked off, and the house looked like the shoe bomber had made an appearance, but I heard through the grapevine that Jennifer had a good time. And that's all that matters.

So, after 11 months, numerous operations, and a metal rod being shoved down my leg, I'm hoping I'll be able to walk again soon and get blogging properly. Thanks to everyone who came on Saturday, you know who you are.

Spare change guv'ner?