Search the site

  

Grab my RSS feed   (What's this?)

Profile

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 …

Sponsored links

Recent comments

Recent Posts

Archives

Tag cloud...

RSS Feeds

Rss Grab my feed

(What's this ?)

  • Add to:
  • icongoogle.gif
  • iconyahoo.gif
  • iconbloglines.gif
  • iconaol.gif

Sponsored links

August 2006 Archives

THE BEATLES… yeah, yeah, yeah...

August 29, 2006 5:28 PM

AYE, the Fab Four were great in their day, true enough, but by God, it sure is time to move on.
Go on, admit it, dear reader. You must be as jaded as the rest of us by the sound of ‘Hey Jude’ repeated ad nauseum in the backstreet boozers of Merseyside.
I tell you, when people sing it in Hell’s Waiting Room, I step outside to avoid hearing it.
Same goes for ‘Imagine’ and its preposterously naïve lyric.
Over-familiarity has bred in me an abiding dislike for ‘Hey Jude’ and for quite a few of the other Beatles classics.
Nor would it have appealed to me to hear the foursome’s top tunes rattled out again in Derby Square, in the city centre, during the recent, not-so glittering Mathew Street Festival.
And how I wish boring old bozos from the 1960s Liverpool music scene would just SHUT UP about The Beatles and about the Merseybeat phenomenon.
Those old fogeys refuse to die… they just turn into oxygen-stealing local broadcasters.
And occasionally you will find them shuffling about in their kaftans at gigs inside Fort Perch Rock, New Brighton …along with other local dinosaurs.

The day my bird ‘Treacle’ Tartt went too far

August 24, 2006 11:17 PM

BEFORE I get to the latest botheration in Hell’s Waiting Room, there’s one wee episode I meant to relate from my recent trip to London.
I refer to the vile torrent of abuse directed at me from a sixtysomething madwoman...

The unbearable tightness of being (part one)

August 21, 2006 6:47 PM

QUITE a weekend it was, full of the stresses of modern life and some of the very good bits which are also part of the human experience.
Down to London I went on Friday morning on one of those rancid, privately-run trains, all plastic walls and plastic smiles from an “on-board crew” dressed like Ruritarian secret policemen.
I had an important working lunch to attend but thanks to the mega-crap railway system in our country I missed lunch by a mile and had to reschedule the meeting for the evening. I know, during valuable drinking time!
The railway workers were, as usual, very slow to tell frustrated passengers what the hell had caused our train to grind to a halt for so long miles from any station. When they did make an announcement they kept the details to a minimum.
Lightning had struck the line, apparently, meaning nothing could get in or out of Crewe station for hours on end. Brilliant.
Some of the passengers were getting very irritated at being stuck in the middle of nowhere for so long.
In an effort to calm one old gentleman I explained to him about the lightning strike.
He got hold of the wrong end of the stick completely. “F*****g unions!" he raged. "F*****g lazy, greedy b******s.”
I don't know, you try to help people ...

Pansy Potter wants to talk ...

August 16, 2006 12:14 PM

MY piece on lairy lesbians in New Brighton has sparked quite a debate locally about sexuality.
Only yesterday I was stopped in the street by the resort’s leading ladyboy, Pansy Potter, who wanted to “thrash out” with me some complicated issues of “gender affirmation through sexuality role-play”.
I’m afraid our discussion didn’t get very far, not because it wasn’t potentially interesting, but because it had started to rain and I was desperate to get in the Kwiki before it closed at 8pm to buy a jar of piccalilli.
So I made my apologies to Pansy and he/she tottered off to fix his/her face in the supermarket porch because the rain had caused a tricky mascara melt-down situation.

Terror - & How To Solve A Problem Like Graham Norton

August 14, 2006 3:42 PM

GOD forbid that a massive terror outrage should hit the UK – or planes flying from here – but if it did happen, then how would we all react?
It could happen. Oh, yes. The Government has been telling us for several years now that a major incident is, if fact, likely.
We have already endured the 7/7 attacks on London, which were bad enough.
Next time, things could be much worse, if the recent plot to massacre thousands by downing transatlantic jets is anything to go by.
At the time of writing this, 23 people were still held by police in connection with the plot, including – incredibly – hate-filled mothers allegedly willing to sacrifice themselves and their babies as “baby bombers” in a twisted cause.

Cruel times in a beautiful country

August 10, 2006 4:13 PM

IT’S been raining on the pitiful cobbles of New Brighton – and it has been raining in my heart.
I can’t explain why I felt so down while driving to work along the M53 this morning.
Er, well, I always feel a bit down when travelling to work but this time I was in the Trough of Despond before I’d motored even as far as the Clatterbridge turn-off.
Waking up to the news of a serious terror alert and the airports being all balloxed up as a consequence - that's what started my spiral into depression.

Trouble at the bar, fat kids and depressed camels

August 7, 2006 5:56 PM

THE Wirral Show was such a mega-bore (more about that later), so it was a relief to enter the relative sanity of Hell’s Waiting Room, New Brighton, on Sunday night.
For once, the place wasn’t full of drunken, boisterous migrant workers from Poland.
There was trouble at the bar, mind, because as I was ordering a round these small missiles kept hitting my head.
I hardly felt ‘em at first because I have thick Afro-style hair that protects me from projectiles.
But eventually I was hit in the eye by a soggy slice of lemon. Ow!

A brilliant night ... and Wirral Council's Big Fat Failure

August 2, 2006 4:27 PM

SO last evening I was in the attic recording studio of wee man Mini-Marvin’s flat in Egremont, putting a music track to a poem I plan to perform publicly later this week.
The poem’s called ‘Islington Rap’, and it refers to my time living in Islington, north London, i.e. not Islington, Liverpool.
The poem is plenty bitter and twisted, my dears, so if any of you are a planning to come and hear me perform (at the little Nelson, off King St, Egremont, some time after 9pm on Thu Aug 3) be prepared … as my verses are definitely not hearts and flowers stuff.

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

July 2006 is the previous archive.September 2006 is the next archive.

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