#Deanehistory 162. This is the story of the 99 call made during the British and Irish Lions tour of South Africa in 1974. if you dislike sporting stories, or robust collective self-defence, don’t read this one, and write a robust letter of complaint to the NATO alliance.
The Lions team is a combined squad of English, Irish, Welsh and Scottish players. Periodically this handpicked group tours another rugby playing nation.
In 1974, the run of play was decisively in the visiting team’s favour. However, in the course of the tour the Lions felt that violent play against them by South African players was not being properly penalised, during or after games.
This had a different impact to the result it might have had today, as there were no video cameras for referees (and the spectators in the ground and at home) to watch back to see foul play,
and there were no substitutions unless a doctor declared a player unable to continue. So the Lions were getting battered, with no real comeback available.
It is fair to say that the Lions Captain, an Irish lock (or second row, same thing), Willie John McBride, was a man of a rather robust disposition, and up with this unpleasantness he would not put.
McBride instituted a policy: “one in, all in.” If you heard “99” called, you hit the nearest South African player to you (this being a shortening of the Irish and UK number for calling the police, 999. Dropping a digit just shows how efficient and direct this plan was).
Whilst they can unfairly penalise one of us in the course of not properly refereeing, went the logic, they can’t send us all off. And perhaps all of us whacking them might curtail this foul play. We’ll, er, get our retaliation in first, lads.
Thus commenced the most amazing series of punch ups in the history of world sport. The South Africans were hardly shrinking violets, and were ready for a physical style of play – for the second test, they picked a No. 8 as scrum half,
which is like getting a tank commander in to do your embroidery – but the sheer scale and extent of the violence in the 1974 tour would have some youngsters triggered to the point of therapy today.
Of course, whilst the instruction to hit the nearest South African is clear, in some passages of play the nearest South African to you might be some way away. At one point in a game in Port Elizabeth, the Lions full back JPR Williams was hanging back in a defensive position,
in a different postcode to the rest of the players when 99 was called. Footage of the game shows him running a marathon to catch up with play and lamp a South African quite some time after the rest of the handbag exchange had been completed.
Williams later said he was embarrassed about this and telling the story is of course not meant to admire punching or violence, of course. But there is a certain virtue in standing up for yourself in the face of bullies,
and addressing an issue the authorities concerns cannot or will not address themselves.
Philip Wareing was 25 years old when his Spitfire exploded.
Flying out of Kenley Aerodrome, at that time in August 1940 mostly a smoking ruin at which the pilots slept under the wings of their planes,
Sergeant Wareing was one of seven British airmen engaging thirty German ME109s in the air over the Channel and – as the combat drifted southwards – above Calais.
He’d shot one German fighter down when, in his words, his “lovely Spitfire was riddled like a sieve.” Hit by flak from the ground as well as by enemy planes, on fire, his propeller having failed, his radiator taken out of action,
Lord Arthur Hill was a British soldier, devoted to the Duke of Wellington. Wellington valued his services in return, but had a lot on his plate preparing to fight Napoleon & seemingly forgot to put Arthur’s name to the team sheet.
Thus it was that, a mere two days before the Battle of Waterloo, Arthur received a message to come at once to the Duke's side to serve as his Aide-De-Camp. Being in London when the message reaching him, he sped immediately to Dover.
There were no sailings available – perhaps because the climax of the conflict was looming? – so Arthur hired a rowboat for the then rather large sum of £22, and with the owner to help him, promptly rowed himself across the Channel.
I had a discussion about asylum seekers coming to the UK on GB News earlier this evening. As many will not have seen it, and for those who’ve asked what I said, here it is.🧵
(I am not tagging in those with whom I debated, mindful of how such discussions can go online. I have decided to post this; they haven’t. But I will make it clear to them that I of course welcome discussion – IF they want to.)
My starting point is this. Britain is a generous country. It is right to give asylum to the needy, especially those to whom we owe a debt like Afghans who helped us in conflict.
#Deanehistory 157. The Lost Gardens of Heligan. Hat tip SH.
Heligan was the country seat of the Trelawnys for four hundred years.
Buying the Heligan estate outside Mevagissey in Cornwall in the 16th century, they built a new manor house;
rebuilt in 1692, although handsome, it is not what we are interested in today.
Henry Hawkins Tremayne, a priest, began work on the gardens in the late 1700s. Thomas Gray was commissioned to create a plan and the gardens were laid out. Succeeding generations of Trelawnys continued his work, adding “The Jungle” with its subtropical plants
September, 1956. Thomas Fizpatrick, a veteran of both the Second World War and the Korean War, is getting legless with some kindred spirits in a bar on St Nicholas Avenue, in the area in which he’d grown up, Washington Heights, Upper Manhattan,
in the hazy period well known to nighthawks that sits somewhere indefinable between late night and early morning.
I, he boasted, could go to New Jersey & get back here in 15 minutes. I could go get a plane & fly it right to this bar if I wanted to.
Er, no – you could not, someone not unnaturally replied.
And so Fitzpatrick got in his car – drink driving laws of the day being more lax than ours, but not THAT lax, we will overlook the obvious point to be made – drove over the Hudson into New Jersey,
On the small off chance that you weren't glued to your TV set this morning for our @GMB debate about whether MPs should have holidays, here's the thrust of what I said.
What’s the goal here - a set of dedicated public servants so tired they can’t lift their arms?
It's maintained that we are in a crisis and therefore nobody can take leave. But consider the past three years and what forecasters say is coming. That's an argument for them never taking a break. There's never a good time.
It's really contrary to the general direction of travel, too. Just when we are talking about the importance of mental health, rest, work / life balance (and mindful moments, @CharlotteHawkns ;)) we apparently want our MPs to be worked until they drop.