gon2seed
(and me! - Ed)
A tale that may be of particular interest to the Sheffield branch of the Forum.
It was 1981, Sheffield was the most happening place in the Universe (Well Yorkshire) and I was a student there. You could see members of the Human League in The Ship or The Beehive, Martin Fry got his paper in my local shop, and Cabaret Voltaire were playing Sheffield all the time. OK The Leadmill hadn’t re-opened yet, and The Thompson Twins were supposedly a Sheffield band, but it was a city at the heart of the Nations music scene. (Sorry if you don’t know Sheffield, but I know a couple of forumites who do!)
A great place to be then, cheap buses, magic mushrooms galore, Phillipa the vicars daughter, and me! Safe to say I had a great time, no loans, a full grant, and I claimed the dole during the holidays, I’m almost guilty … almost.
We had another great thing in Sheffield that you don’t get now, Pyjama Jump! Imagine, if you will, the combined might of the students of the Uni’ The Poly’, and the other Colleges, out on the town, dressed in nightwear. It was supposed to be a swap, i.e., Lads in night-dresses and lasses in Pyjamas, both sexes wore stockings and suspenders (quality!), and makeup, and most lasses just wore pyjama tops. Bear in mind this was Sheffield in October, pre global warming! Estimates of upwards of 10,000 scantily clad youngsters hitting the City were common. All the major night-clubs did a night, where people ended up.
Needless to say flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication, were the object of the evening, and it was a night for letting it all hang out quite literally.
In my final year the Tabloids got hold of the story, and they all ran lurid headlines and stories about the shenanigans! When actually I read them (My Dad had cut them all out for me!) they were pretty tame, and I thought the papers had gone pretty light on it.
I remember being in one night-club seeing floors carpeted by couples in various states of undress, and indulging in flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication. The good Mrs Seed accompanied me on one pyjama jump evening, (childhood sweethearts don’t you know) and she definitely had her eyes opened! Top of the World was never quite like that! Though it did have its moments!
The story that really titillated the tabloids was the couple who actually did it on the pool table in the Union Bar, cheered on by a baying crowd, for once they were telling the truth … no! I was nowhere near!
I guess that was the start of the end for Pyjama Jump. Too much bad press. It carried on, but as can be seen from this, it looks the last one was in 1996/7
Press release
My most glorious PJ experience was my second year. I have always had a fascination for water, and Fargate Fountain proved too much of a temptation. I was already drunker than a drunk who’d then drunk some more, and was heading down towards the fountain having visited the Frog and Parrot (actually had a live Parrot). I spied said fount from the brow of the hill, and started running. Upon reaching the water feature, I rather impressively, scaled the security fencing, which was always put there to stop idiots doing what I was about to do.
Into the foaming water I jumped, and proceeded to run around the circular pool. At head level a series of stainless steel (what else in Sheffield?) Spouts sprayed water all over me. A baying inebriated crowd cheered me on, and in the euphoria I hardly noticed the fact that it was just above freezing, and I was piss wet through. After about five circuits I retraced my steps and attempted to re-scale the security fence, I think hypothermia had affected my extremities (no flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication for you my boy) and it proved much more of a challenge. I did manage it however, but ended up in an exhausted heap at the foot of the fence, with my face in the dirt of the flowerbed. As I lifted my muddy maw from out of the dirt, I spied a boot, … a large black boot right in front of my face. My gaze was attracted upwards to a pair of dark blue trousers with an appropriately well ironed crease. Upwards still, I could see a jacket in the same dark blue, adorned with shiny buttons. At the top was what looked like a big blue tit, with a silver nipple. In between I could see a big angry face …one of South Yorkshire Constabulary’s finest was not a happy bunny and he was looking straight at me!
He was a huge bugger, and he grabbed me under the arm and hauled me to my feet, … I just looked at my feet…
“I thought you lot were supposed to be the farking intelligencia! Top 5% my arseâ€
And with that he pushed me back on to the pavement, and with a cheery “Now feck off before I decide to arrest you†he actually booted my ‘arris with one of those size 13 boots.
Suitably chastised my companions and I beat a hasty retreat, and as I dried out I soon became interested again in my quest for flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication.
Did I consider suing the S.Yorks Constabulary? Did I f***, did I get what I deserved? Most definitely, would I do it again? I’d like to think so (Don’t tell the Seedlings). Did I get to flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication? That my friends, is a tale to far … another time maybe!
Only piccy I could find of said fountain on tinternet! Bit small!
(Said the actress to the Bishop)
It was 1981, Sheffield was the most happening place in the Universe (Well Yorkshire) and I was a student there. You could see members of the Human League in The Ship or The Beehive, Martin Fry got his paper in my local shop, and Cabaret Voltaire were playing Sheffield all the time. OK The Leadmill hadn’t re-opened yet, and The Thompson Twins were supposedly a Sheffield band, but it was a city at the heart of the Nations music scene. (Sorry if you don’t know Sheffield, but I know a couple of forumites who do!)
A great place to be then, cheap buses, magic mushrooms galore, Phillipa the vicars daughter, and me! Safe to say I had a great time, no loans, a full grant, and I claimed the dole during the holidays, I’m almost guilty … almost.
We had another great thing in Sheffield that you don’t get now, Pyjama Jump! Imagine, if you will, the combined might of the students of the Uni’ The Poly’, and the other Colleges, out on the town, dressed in nightwear. It was supposed to be a swap, i.e., Lads in night-dresses and lasses in Pyjamas, both sexes wore stockings and suspenders (quality!), and makeup, and most lasses just wore pyjama tops. Bear in mind this was Sheffield in October, pre global warming! Estimates of upwards of 10,000 scantily clad youngsters hitting the City were common. All the major night-clubs did a night, where people ended up.
Needless to say flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication, were the object of the evening, and it was a night for letting it all hang out quite literally.
In my final year the Tabloids got hold of the story, and they all ran lurid headlines and stories about the shenanigans! When actually I read them (My Dad had cut them all out for me!) they were pretty tame, and I thought the papers had gone pretty light on it.
I remember being in one night-club seeing floors carpeted by couples in various states of undress, and indulging in flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication. The good Mrs Seed accompanied me on one pyjama jump evening, (childhood sweethearts don’t you know) and she definitely had her eyes opened! Top of the World was never quite like that! Though it did have its moments!
The story that really titillated the tabloids was the couple who actually did it on the pool table in the Union Bar, cheered on by a baying crowd, for once they were telling the truth … no! I was nowhere near!
I guess that was the start of the end for Pyjama Jump. Too much bad press. It carried on, but as can be seen from this, it looks the last one was in 1996/7
Press release
My most glorious PJ experience was my second year. I have always had a fascination for water, and Fargate Fountain proved too much of a temptation. I was already drunker than a drunk who’d then drunk some more, and was heading down towards the fountain having visited the Frog and Parrot (actually had a live Parrot). I spied said fount from the brow of the hill, and started running. Upon reaching the water feature, I rather impressively, scaled the security fencing, which was always put there to stop idiots doing what I was about to do.
Into the foaming water I jumped, and proceeded to run around the circular pool. At head level a series of stainless steel (what else in Sheffield?) Spouts sprayed water all over me. A baying inebriated crowd cheered me on, and in the euphoria I hardly noticed the fact that it was just above freezing, and I was piss wet through. After about five circuits I retraced my steps and attempted to re-scale the security fence, I think hypothermia had affected my extremities (no flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication for you my boy) and it proved much more of a challenge. I did manage it however, but ended up in an exhausted heap at the foot of the fence, with my face in the dirt of the flowerbed. As I lifted my muddy maw from out of the dirt, I spied a boot, … a large black boot right in front of my face. My gaze was attracted upwards to a pair of dark blue trousers with an appropriately well ironed crease. Upwards still, I could see a jacket in the same dark blue, adorned with shiny buttons. At the top was what looked like a big blue tit, with a silver nipple. In between I could see a big angry face …one of South Yorkshire Constabulary’s finest was not a happy bunny and he was looking straight at me!
He was a huge bugger, and he grabbed me under the arm and hauled me to my feet, … I just looked at my feet…
“I thought you lot were supposed to be the farking intelligencia! Top 5% my arseâ€
And with that he pushed me back on to the pavement, and with a cheery “Now feck off before I decide to arrest you†he actually booted my ‘arris with one of those size 13 boots.
Suitably chastised my companions and I beat a hasty retreat, and as I dried out I soon became interested again in my quest for flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication.
Did I consider suing the S.Yorks Constabulary? Did I f***, did I get what I deserved? Most definitely, would I do it again? I’d like to think so (Don’t tell the Seedlings). Did I get to flirting, filthiness, and finally fornication? That my friends, is a tale to far … another time maybe!
Only piccy I could find of said fountain on tinternet! Bit small!
(Said the actress to the Bishop)
