A Fast Turnaround
In the mid-90s, we took over the Telegraph Bar on Orchard Street. This was then 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 part of the Trent crew for yonks. We'd know Simon since the Senate & Delby days & he was (& still is) a proper music head.
The Telegraph became a great little bar when Simon had it. He just went nuts musically with it, but in a good way. As far out as you could possibly take it, maxing his love of obscure Jazz & all other musical forms. Proper boundary pushing & so far ahead of it's time, the rest of the city, even today, still hasn't caught up yet.
Once he moved on it then ended up changing hands again & being all renovated.
That's all been done & it's a great little bar again now too. No where near as revolutionary music wise, as that wouldn't really be possible - but cute none the less.
We were in there for a cheeky shandy, when we had Toots & Maytals on round the corner at the Boiler Shop a couple of years ago.
(Editor’s note: nursery actually)
Here’s Simon, with our old Pal Norman Baker (RIP) & our brother Arthur (ex Edinburgh squad), 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
Our etched & enduring memory of the Telegraph, is of people constantly coming in, either looking for, or asking to speak with 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 a tonne of potential, but we were just too busy in Clubland to do it justice - so we didn’t.