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Steve Regan is a writer who lives in New Brighton. He’s a performance poet and a rebel. He drinks in a pub he calls Hell’s Waiting Room and a late bar known as The Lost Weekend. Steve has an unusual take on modern life – as you’ll discover …

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July 2006 Archives

Lairy lesbians of Hell’s Waiting Room

July 31, 2006 1:02 PM

DEARIE me, in my local pub these days there is trouble piled on top of trouble and then poured over with lashings of extra-strong Kick-Off Kustard.
Truly, I am beginning to suspect that the tap water in New Brighton comes from the reservoir of bad-tempered b******.
I was in the Waiting Room last night and discovered a large contingent of lesbians in there.
Nothing wrong with that, of course, even when some of them started heavy petting and tonsil tennis antics.
Slutty Hardman’s eyes were out on stalks and who can blame him?
It was like a scene from the fall of the Roman Empire, or Sodom and Gomorrah, or Sappho’s boozy leaving party on the ancient Greek island of Lesbos.

Independence for Wallasey!

July 28, 2006 5:33 PM

IT IS a neat irony – for those of us living on this side of the Mersey (New Brighton in my case) – that the best views of the Liverpool skyline can be seen only from Wirral.
This paradox has not escaped artists over the years, who know the best view they will get of any city will be from across the other side of any available river, lake or sea channel.
Or from atop a hill way outside the city.
So it is that the best views of London, which is a gorgeously cinematic city, come to those who walk on the South Bank or stroll on Hampstead Heath.
Oi! That doesn’t mean you, George Michael.

Drinking from the reservoir of bad tempered b******s

July 24, 2006 2:06 PM

MEETING up with old friends you haven't seen much of in recent years ought to be a delight and a pleasure.
The trouble is things don't always go to plan...
Last weekend I met up with two rather different sets of pals. The first occasion was on Saturday - a birthday barbeque party at the London home of my chum, Lord Johnny Vino.
Everything went spiffingly there - for the guests, if not for Lord Johnny himself, who threw a huge tantrum when someone questioned his skills at the griddle.
Still, it was a very good party, and I guess Johhny enjoyed it in the end, because when I stepped over his body sprawled out on the living room carpet at 5am, when I was en route to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he was snoring contentedly.

Nobby No-Mates, meetings, and a pub called Malice

July 19, 2006 11:53 AM

THE heat has made me think about the hideousness of modern workplace culture for those unlucky enough to toil in offices.
Particularly, think of all those ghastly meetings that employees are expected to attend.
Sitting in meetings listening to people banging on about sweet FA is hard enough to endure in normal atmospheric conditions.
In this heat it corrodes my soul and it drenches my gusset.

How UK telly has destroyed itself

July 14, 2006 5:49 PM

BRITISH television has lost nearly all of its former magic.
In the sixties and the seventies, telly was a major cultural force, talked about with wonder and affection in playgrounds, factories, offices and dole queues across the land.
It went downhill fast in the eighties and nineties, and now we have to suffer puerile idiots having strops on Big Brother, plus X-list celebs on horseback, Y-listers on ice, Z-listers hoofing around in spangly catsuits, and sub-Z-listers trying to get jiggy with it on some paradise island. Pathetic.

Is New Brighton CURSED?

July 11, 2006 6:12 PM

I WAS so tired last night in Hell's Waiting Room, New Brighton, that I lay out flat out on my back on one of the burgundy-coloured, leatherette banquettes and smoked a Silk Cut blue.
It was very relaxing and I didn't for a minute take seriously the threat from Dixie the Jazzman that he was going to sit on my face and fart right there and then.
But it is quite dangerous to lie on the benches in the Waiting Room - as I know to my pain, cost and embarrassment...

Real culture - and the Liverpool 08 shambles

July 6, 2006 4:50 PM

RIGHT across the developed world mountains of taxpayers' wonga are being urinated away on so-called cultural events.
It is possible that slightly less public money than originally planned will be squandered on bad art and live performance in Liverpool now that the Culture Company artistic director Robyn Archer has slung her hook back to Australia.
Still, I wouldn't bank on anyone getting value for money out of the over-hyped Liverpool Capital of Culture 2008 and the suits who are running it.
There is something soul-dead about publicly funded arts and culture anyway.

Posh people don't wanna have fun

July 3, 2006 6:34 PM

THE scarecrow festival in Thornton Hough, Wirral, at the weekend was for me a special kind of torture.
There was a bouncy castle at the village green fete for one thing. Hundreds of screaming children, some with snotty noses. That was my idea of Hell.
The rest of the scarecrow fete was like something out of Midsomer Murders, without all the serial killers and secret Satanists.

This page contains an archive of all entries posted to Steve Regan’s Last Resort in the July 2006. They are listed from oldest to newest.

June 2006 is the previous archive.August 2006 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the home page or by looking through the archives.