News Archives: view stories from Year One of the Club (October 2006 to October 2007), Year Two (October 2007 to October 2008), Year Three (October 2008 to October 2009), Year Four (October 2009 to October 2010) and Year Five (October 2010 to October 2011)

To see many splendid daguerreotypes documenting the Club’s antics, click here.

 

Club learns of aristocratic ladies' pluck in the Great War

1st February Bit of a late start at the Club Night in February, thanks to the absence of a vital cable to join the laptop to the projector. After some time spent rattling the shutters of shops in the area, Mrs Downer eventually came to the rescue, pointing out that her office was only ten minutes away, so we went and raided the IT supplies there. By then it was about 9.20 and the natives were restless, but Ensign Polyethyl managed to whip them into a disciplined listening unit in no time with her illustrated address on her own unit, the FANY (First Aid Nursing Yeomanry). Formed just before the Great War by a Sgt Baker who had a vision of ladies galloping (side-saddle) into battle, administering first aid to fallen troops before tossing the men over the pommels of their saddles and galloping back to safety. Baker was later thrown out for being only a sergeant and fearfully lower class, but the FANY became a reality, driving ambulances through the mud in the war—though initially working mainly with the Belgians, who happily accepted the offer of nursing help while the British Army bristled at the fact that the FANY weren't part of the army at all and wouldn't do what they were told (which would probably have been to go back to Blighty and stop trying to do men's work). In fact the British men would even sabotage the FANY's ambulances. The FANYs were an aristocratic lot: not only were they unpaid but they had to stump up a subscription to be part of it and you had to supply your own ambulance too, which ruled out most social strata. But so plucky were the girls under fire that they eventually won armfuls of medals and even the grudging acceptance of the British Army. Nowadays the FANY, a registered charity, also supports the police in times of national emergency, such as terrorist attacks.
www.fany.org.uk

Club makes it on to Colombian television

4th January At our January Club Night Evadne Raccat gave us a splendid and surprising talk about the little-known collection of wax (and in some cases, plaster, wood, straw and leather) effigies held by Westminster Abbey of some of the more notable people buried there. Sometimes taken as death masks, sometimes sculpted and sometimes dressed expensively in the real person's clothes, these were mostly of monarchs and were intended to keep the image of the monarch—or more importantly of the monarchy—alive while the permanent stone monument was being made. They fell out of fashion, many were damaged, and were consigned to a cupboard, in bits, until being later rediscovered and conserved. The one oddity is that of Nelson—because he is not actually buriedat the abbey. By this stage the effigies were more of a tourist attraction than a religious or social symbol and Westminster wanted one mainly to make up for the humiliation of having Nelson's actual body buried at St Paul's.

Once more we were graced by a film crew, this time from Colombia, sent on a mission to film not just the 2012 Olympics but also some fun and unexpected aspects of London life—so naturally they were drawn to the NSC like a fly to a corpse. They interviewed extensively and even had us recreate a couple of the Chap Olympics events for them…

Club checks Menders is not dead

23rd December A bunch of us gathered for what has become something of a tradition: meeting up at the Dover Castle public house on the last Friday before Christmas. Lord Mendrick, one of the founding members of our movement (before the NSC even formally existed) nowadays teaches history in Egypt, but returns for Crimbo; so this is our annual opportunity to take his pulse and satisfy ourselves that he has not gone native—unlikely given his fondness for ale. That's Mendrick on the right in the picture, with the Earl of Essex (left), Father Michael Silver and Hartley.

Mole hunt takes place under guise of Christmas party

10th December The New Sheridan Club's Christmas party, "Tinker, Tailor, Dandy, Spy", this time had a spies and secret agents theme, based on the premise that there was mole lurking at the heart of the Club, feeding our secrets to our enemies. We had a seminar on subterfuge and misdirection by comedy magician Christian Lee, a Berlin Wall Jenga game (with the pieces lovingly decorated with actual Berlin Wall graffiti by Mrs H.) and the traditional shooting game, this time an attempt at shooting a Sean Connery action figure through the hole in a cut-out of the gun barrel image at the beginning of every Bond film—made more difficult by the fact that the cut-out was swinging from side to side.

We also had our usual complimentary Snuff Bar, bathrooms stocked with fine soaps, colognes, pomades and moustache wax, a Lucky Dip filled with glorious and perplexing tat, and the mighty Grand Raffle at the end of the evening…

Club receives solemn and timely warning on the dangers of vice

7th December Just in case any of our Members might be led by seasonal jollity down the crimson path of lasciviousness, our December meeting was graced by the Right Reverend Septimus Theophilus Dee, former Bishop of Matabeleland, ably assisted by Mr Ronald Jeremiah, the noted Shakespearian actor, who presented Vice and Lewdness in Georgian London: A Cautionary Lecture. We learned just what a festering den of iniquity Georgian London was and focused on the extraordinary publication Harris's List, essentially a guidebook to all the prostitutes of the Covent Garden area, then the epicentre of this particular trade. Jack Harris was the head waiter in one of the coffee houses of the district and he fancied himself Top Pimp to the whole of England. His book both praised the merits of those who impressed him and was blunt about those ladies he considered ugly, wilful, mercenary or frankly diseased. It appeared annually for some 38 years (long after Harris's own death, thanks to wily publishers) until the forces of rectitude clamped down and imprisoned those responsible for its publication. Harris himself was canny enough to know that such a volume would be out of date as soon as it hit the shelves so its existence wouldn't damage his own value as a pander with a little black book.

Global Circumnavigator Tells Bicycling Tales

2nd November We don't normally allow road vehicles into Club meetings but at our November Club Night our speaker was Mr Joff Summerfield, a chap who has pedalled all the way round the world on a pennyfarthing bicycle which he made himself. Greenwich man Joff spent two and a half years on the trip, camping where he could and frequently relying on the kindness of strangers, who were unsurprisingly fascinated by his mode of transport. (The only low point was on the roads of New Zealand where for some reason truckers take delight in trying to knock cyclists off the road—eventually succeeding in Joff's case, leaving him by the roadside with a broken wrist.) Best of all, he completed the whole 22,000-mile journey wearing a pith helmet. For a taste of his impact on the typical American, see here:

Club Celebrates Football in its More Gentlemanly Days

5th October The October meeting was the Club's 5th birthday! Yes, October 2006 was our very first get-together, when the Padre talked to us about bull fighting. This time, Miss Minna talked to us about her great grandfather who was a professional footballer, mostly for West Ham. She showed us how back then everything was a bit more relaxed and dandified—goalies and linesmen smoked during the match, the manager was a drunkard, the strip was infinitely more stylish than today and mass punch-ups on the pitch were not unusual. The team was nicknamed The Irons because they were originally the Thames Ironworks team, created to give the men something to occupy themselves to distract them from the evils of drink (which obviously didn't work in the case of manager Syd King). West Ham even pioneered floodlit matches—as a way of squeezing games into the evenings, so as not to interfere with work. They developed a healthy rivalry with Millwall—also an Ironworks team but one famous for strike-breaking, which only fuelled the rivalry. Their finest hour must surely be their "giant-killing" match against Manchester United in 1911, which they won 2-1. As rumours spread through the area that the Irons were actually winning, tools were dropped and skirts were hitched, as some 27,000 local people tried to cram into a stadium that held 12,000.