Young people often ask me how I got started in the porn business. They’re looking for tips I suppose. Well I had family connections. Growing up in North London in the Fifties I had a fairly normal family life. Dad was doing a year in the Scrubs for receiving so it was just me and Mum. Living in Archway we were. We’d visit Dad when we could and I do remember him saying to me one time. ‘Dick lad it’s time for you to get serious. You need to think about your future. Nicking lead off church roofs and playing a bit of footy is all very well but you need a trade. I think you should have a chat with Uncle Archie.’
So I went round to see Uncle Archie and that’s how my career in the porn business got started. In fact, now I'm getting flashbacks, I caught Archie and Aunty Doris on the job.
It was a family affair. Usually we’d set the equipment up in the living room. Chintzy sofas, garter belts, lampshades that sort of thing. Uncle Archie was the director and he’d work out a little scenario, who did what, who fucked who, but there wasn’t any sound so no need for a proper script. The plots were fairly basic. Usually started with Aunty Doris or some other tart reading a magazine then slowly she starts playing with herself and hallo who’s this? Bloody window cleaner innit getting his leg over the sill. Or a copper shows up with a big truncheon. Or hubby’s away so the missus has it off with the milkman. The camera work was shaky and the lighting wasn’t too fancy. Come to think of it, it was tame stuff really by today’s standards. Don’t know what they would have thought of the stuff that passes for porn these days. Silicone tits? Bondage? Golden showers? None of that, Not that I recall. Course I was young then. Wasn’t supposed to watch really. ‘Up to your room young Dick we’re just finishing up here. Go and read your Beano comics.’ Bugger Desperate Dan. I’m off upstairs for a bit of Health and Efficiency.
‘So what do you think Dick? Beats driving a 79 through Wembley,’ says Uncle Archie. Later on he let me work the camera and move the lights around. Even gave me a few black and white still photos to flog at school.
Not blowing my own trumpet like but I was a clever nipper. Passed the eleven plus easy and got into Grammar school. Not that it did me much good. I soon got expelled, I tried a few different jobs, hod carrying, roofing, shoplifting, but always it was football that drew me. If I wasn’t watching the Gunners I was a kicking a ball around. Dexies were my downfall. More on that later.
Then Aunt Doris got nicked for living off immoral earnings and Dad still in the Scrubs me and Mum got by the best we could. Uncle Archie used to come round a lot to see how she was doing. He’d always slip me a couple of quid and send me out somewhere so I had a lot more personal freedom. Those were great days. Soccer up the gasworks…looking up girl’s knickers down the rec…trying to anyway. It’s all a blur now but I won’t forget the blokes in suits who hung around watching me and the other lads play. How’d you like to get serious says one? What you mean mister? I mean try out for Arsenal says he. Fuck me…you’re joking. Well would you? Would I? First I thought he must be a poofta but he meant it. Signed a contract and I soon had a few bob in me pocket.
One summer I borrowed Archie’s Standard Vanguard (and his driver’s license), and took Mum to Butlins. She loved it didn’t she? Skegness! Bloody marvelous. I helped her choose a cheeky postcard for Dad and on the way home I was so chuffed I give Old Bill a friendly wave on the North Circular.
I know…I know…times have changed.
So I went round to see Uncle Archie and that’s how my career in the porn business got started. In fact, now I'm getting flashbacks, I caught Archie and Aunty Doris on the job.
It was a family affair. Usually we’d set the equipment up in the living room. Chintzy sofas, garter belts, lampshades that sort of thing. Uncle Archie was the director and he’d work out a little scenario, who did what, who fucked who, but there wasn’t any sound so no need for a proper script. The plots were fairly basic. Usually started with Aunty Doris or some other tart reading a magazine then slowly she starts playing with herself and hallo who’s this? Bloody window cleaner innit getting his leg over the sill. Or a copper shows up with a big truncheon. Or hubby’s away so the missus has it off with the milkman. The camera work was shaky and the lighting wasn’t too fancy. Come to think of it, it was tame stuff really by today’s standards. Don’t know what they would have thought of the stuff that passes for porn these days. Silicone tits? Bondage? Golden showers? None of that, Not that I recall. Course I was young then. Wasn’t supposed to watch really. ‘Up to your room young Dick we’re just finishing up here. Go and read your Beano comics.’ Bugger Desperate Dan. I’m off upstairs for a bit of Health and Efficiency.
‘So what do you think Dick? Beats driving a 79 through Wembley,’ says Uncle Archie. Later on he let me work the camera and move the lights around. Even gave me a few black and white still photos to flog at school.
Not blowing my own trumpet like but I was a clever nipper. Passed the eleven plus easy and got into Grammar school. Not that it did me much good. I soon got expelled, I tried a few different jobs, hod carrying, roofing, shoplifting, but always it was football that drew me. If I wasn’t watching the Gunners I was a kicking a ball around. Dexies were my downfall. More on that later.
Then Aunt Doris got nicked for living off immoral earnings and Dad still in the Scrubs me and Mum got by the best we could. Uncle Archie used to come round a lot to see how she was doing. He’d always slip me a couple of quid and send me out somewhere so I had a lot more personal freedom. Those were great days. Soccer up the gasworks…looking up girl’s knickers down the rec…trying to anyway. It’s all a blur now but I won’t forget the blokes in suits who hung around watching me and the other lads play. How’d you like to get serious says one? What you mean mister? I mean try out for Arsenal says he. Fuck me…you’re joking. Well would you? Would I? First I thought he must be a poofta but he meant it. Signed a contract and I soon had a few bob in me pocket.
One summer I borrowed Archie’s Standard Vanguard (and his driver’s license), and took Mum to Butlins. She loved it didn’t she? Skegness! Bloody marvelous. I helped her choose a cheeky postcard for Dad and on the way home I was so chuffed I give Old Bill a friendly wave on the North Circular.
I know…I know…times have changed.
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