31. The Telegraph
A fast turnaround
In the mid-90s, we took over the Telegraph Bar on Orchard Street. This was a really run down, little dump of a bar, next to the Central Post Office. All the customers were sozzled Postmen, with big, fat red conks & the whole place smelt funny.
We had loads on at the time & after a very short space of time, (like about 3 weeks), we got sick of it & passed it on to our friend, Simon, who’d been working with us at the Trent.
The Telegraph was a great little bar for a while when Simon had it, then ended up changing hands & being all renovated & it’s actually quite a nice Bar these days too.
(Editor’s note: nursery actually)
Here’s Simon, that we passed the Telegraph to, with our old Pal Norman Baker (RIP) & our brother Arthur, three of the most charismatic characters we’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.
Here we are chilling after hours in the Trent, way way back in the day…
Your boy Geordie
The enduring memory of the Telegraph, is of people constantly coming in, either looking for, or asking to speak to an individual by the name of Geordie Breen…
We never actually saw the mythical Mr Breen, or have any idea who he was, but people would always be ringing up & popping their heads around the door to ask ‘Has Geordie Breen been in at all..?’ or ‘Ha’ yee seen Geordie..?’#
We ended up, starting to refer to each other as Geordie Breen & that way of addressing one another carried on for years.
If you are reading this now & your name is actually (by some quirk of fate) Geordie Breen..? We just want to let you know that there were a load of geezers in, after you…
The Telegraph had potential, but we were just too busy in Clubland to do it justice, so we didn’t.