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Brian Mitchell & Joseph Nixon’s thoroughly scurrilous Brighton column
Hove Factually
Five facts you never knew about fantabulous Hove
1. Hoveish, the ancient language still spoken by over nine per cent of the indigenous population, is thought, of all extant, to be the closest to Indo European, with the possible exceptions of Nadsat, Troll and Unwinese.
2. Contrary to popular opinion Hove is actually quite raunchy, boasting over 5,000 workers in the sex entertainment industry (although a recent investigation suggests this is all in fact the work of one Alfred Simcock – an old bloke from Cowper Street, who bears a striking resemblance to Moore Marriott from the Will Hay films, moonlighting under a variety of aliases).
3. Hove and Portslade might be the best of friends now, but once they were deadly enemies. During the Wars of the Roses, Portslade sided with the Lancastrians, Hove with the Yorkists. Although this meant, on the accession of Henry Tudor that, in the short term, Portslade could be said to have ‘won’, in the long term it was the loser in every other and more meaningful sense of the word.
4. Hove has the world’s smallest conference centre. Standing roughly two metres tall by three wide and two deep, it can accommodate only five at any one time. The TUC held a conference there in 1972 and Clive Jenkins had to repeat his speech 98 times to be heard by all the delegates, filing in four at a time. It took seven months to agree a motion.
5. Russell T Davies does not come from Hove. Or we would have Doctor Who showing up here week after week for no very good reason.
What Was That?
Dear Mike,
I’ve noticed that a lot of people have written to you about books, TV programmes and films, but not many people seem to have done so about foodstuffs, so here goes!
As a young lad I was evacuated from Brighton to a small farm in a little village in North Devon. I had a smashing time there, but what I remember mainly were the lovely meals – home grown vegetables and fresh milk and cream from the cows. Absolutely my favourite meal of the day was breakfast – we were always served a hot breakfast (Mrs Tallboys the farmer’s wife said that it would ‘set us up for the day’) and always the same thing – I vividly remember the piquant smell of it waking me up in the morning. Anyway – I digress.
The dish in question, which was cooked by frying, consisted of one or two smallish flat circular things, a rubbery white in colour, with a smaller orange-yellow circle in the centre (this centre could be pierced , allowing the yellow liquid to flood out, to my youthful delight!) Served with this were thin slices of a meat of some description (possibly pork? I know the Tallboys kept pigs) and cooked until slightly crispy. The meal was served with toast and, occasionally, a grilled tomato.
I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything nicer and I’d love to eat it again (sadly I never had it since returning home as my mum was much more of a cornflakes sort of person) but I can’t for the life of me remember what it’s called. I’m sure it’s something really simple and obvious and I’m just being daft, so please help and thanks in advance for making an old man happy! Thank you for your time.
Peter Bostwick, Hove
Dear Peter,
I’m very sorry, but after consulting a plethora of cook books including Mr. Beeton, the collected Jamie Oliver and even a scholarly tome entitled Nation Of Shopkeepers: History Of Food In The British Isles 2000 BC–The Present Day I am ashamed to say that I have been unable to discover the identity of your mysterious meal. It’s not often I let my letter writers down, but I’m afraid I seem to have hit a brick wall with this one. Sorry again. Perhaps if anyone reading this has any ideas they could get in touch,
Yours (somewhat red-faced),
Mike X
Can’t remember the name of an obscure film, book, TV Show, or whatever? Ask Mike Hunter, the man with all the answers.
