Author Archives: Joe Young

About Joe Young

Supposed writer from the north-east coast of England.

Melon Farming for Beginners: A Brief History of Swearing in the Movies

Originally posted on up the down escalator:
one of her five-a-day Back in the days of silent films, packed picture houses enjoyed the latest offerings of Charlie Chaplin, Fatty Arbuckle and Harold Lloyd to the accompaniment of suitable piano music.…

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Games Among the Graves

The residential area of Cowpen Newtown, where I lived as a child, consisted of three rows of terraced houses. The back lane of the westernmost of these, John Street, looked onto a cemetery that was in a state of some … Continue reading

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Learning to Ride a Bike: From Grazes to Glee

As a child, my inauguration into the world of two-wheeled cycling was a painful one. My friend David was younger than me, but already he was tearing around the streets on a small bike with large pneumatic tyres. I’d had … Continue reading

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London, Here I Come!

I made my first trip to London when I was ten-years-old. My grandparents took me to see an aunt, who had the curious name of Dorrie, and who lived in Burnt Oak, a suburb in the Edgware district of North … Continue reading

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What I Learned on Beecher Street

In the Family Guy episode Brian Griffin’s House of Payne, Brian has written a TV script, the title of which is What I Learned on Jefferson Street. This got me thinking of things I learned, not via school or my parents, … Continue reading

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Pop: The Soundtrack to My Childhood

I fell in love with music at an early age. My young ears listened appreciatively to chart hits that my parents played on a reel-to-reel tape recorder. These included Sacha Distel’s This Guy’s in Love with You, Chris Montez’s The More … Continue reading

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Frights and Scares, Under the Stairs

I lived with my brothers and parents in Beecher Street, which was in some state of dilapidation at the bottom end. Conditions were such that I remember the landlord coming one day to cold-chisel off the plaster in the tiny bedroom I … Continue reading

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The Daredevil

The bunting that stretched between lamp posts, and the cheering crowd that lined the route were only present in my imagination, but when I wheeled my MoBo scooter up to the top of the street, I felt like Evel Kinevil … Continue reading

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Grammar School, Here I Come

At the end of the school day, everyone in the fourth year of the juniors was given a sealed buff envelope to take home. What these envelopes contained were our futures: the results of our eleven plus exams we had … Continue reading

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Child Exploitation

In the small two-street enclave of Cowpen where I grew up, my friends and I got to know by name virtually all the adults who lived there. It didn’t take us long to suss out which housewives paid the best … Continue reading

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