It took a while for it to happen. But it did
Hurtwood Polo Club, 05/09/2015

They’ve had their knockers. And it would be all too easy to poke fun at this day. Certainly, finding oneself wandering the fields of a Polo club surrounded by an assortment of Clarksons, Partridges, Patsies, Edinas, Fred Perry-adorned Phil Mitchells and people you largely suspect of possessing somewhat anathematic opinions makes for an experience bordering on the surreal. Likewise, the numerous mingling Rod-a-likes, lending the uncanny air of attending some diabolical theme park (“Jurassic”, of course), one of whom is glimpsed taking a call on his mobile phone through the mesh partitioning the VIP enclosure from we mere mortals, his barnet, tangerine complexion, tasteless attire and general demeanour momentarily convincing, but later sighted sans-mirrored sunglasses with a look of shame written on his mug akin to that of being caught in flagrante in the midst of inopportune climatic conditions.

Meanwhile, Chris Jagger is on stage, all purple lamé and Stringfellow mullet; Mollie Marriott sings her old dad’s ‘Aftergow (Of Your Love)’, having inherited his chin, if not quite his pipes; the house band for the occasion are led by Jim Cregan of Blossom Toes fame, brow perpetually furrowed as he studiously regards the music stand before him, clearly enjoying himself more than at any other time since his Katie Melua heyday as he takes his celebrated lead on Steve Harley’s ‘Come Up And See Me (Make Me Smile)’; Paul Carrack sashays across the length of the stage to a large table upon which an exceedingly refreshed Annie Nightingale is setting up decks, where he mimes a “scratching” motion and is rewarded with the kind of steely glare that got King Polydectes permanently stoned. This Havershamesque apparition’s choice selection of MP3s burned to compact disc includes gun-jumping “spins” of ‘Cindy Incidentally’, ‘Had Me A Real Good Time’ plus ‘Rocks’ by Primal Scream, the latter rendered even less enjoyable than usual by devastating infrasonic frequencies which, judging by the news to the nose, may have had a distinctly “brown” resonance with some audience members. “ROD LOVES THIS!” she exclaims. Perhaps Rod has a scat fetish? Either that, or sturdy bowels for a man of his vintage. Read more The Faces – Hurtwood Polo Club ›