Tut tut. Foolish error
:wally
Nope.
Here’s the definitive list:
http://www.starfury.demon.co.uk/uground/
Rather wonderfully when I googled this the first entry that came up was for the “Dull Mens Club”. I think I will join.
So in keeping
Brompton Rd
Brompton Road is, of course, quoted in the Hackney Scout Song Book version of the “Marching Song of the Ancient Britons”, of which one verse will have to suffice. Tune: “Men of Harlech”…
What’s the use of wearing braces
Coats and shoes and boot with laces,
Spats and hats you buy in places
Down in Brompton Road?
What’s the use of shirts of cotton,
Studs that always get forgotten?
These affairs are simply rotten -
Better far is Woad.
Woad’s the stuff to show, men!
Woad to scare your foemen!
Boil it to a brilliant blue
And rub it on your back and your ab-do-men!
Ancient Briton never hit on
Anything as good as Woad to fit on
Neck, or knees, or where you sit on;
Tailors, you be blowed!
But I’ll just execute a quick shift in violet to Moorgate, if it’s all the same to you.
Hannover Rules are now in play? thumbs through Das Morgenton Halbmond by Jung and Innocent. Finds nothing of use, gives up
Maida Vale.
I’d just like to re-enter this thread to say that the copy of Stovold’s Mornington Crescent Almanac 2002 that I ordered from the UK has just arrived. I still have no idea what the rules of this game are, but I now have a much better idea of the history and the strategies are. But who needs to know rules? After all, if cricket-players knew the rules, they wouldn’t need umpires.
So, in the name of history, I’ll play Old Street (which is presumably not the oldest street in London).
An over-reliance on the written rule tends to stifle creativity, and nowhere is this more self-evident than in the great game of Mornington Crescent. Recall the great masters of the game like Outcault, who allegedly had a tiny map of the London Underground tattooed on the inside of his right eyelid but never resorted to using it (partly because when he closed his eye there was insufficient light to read the tattoo). Or De la Fonseca, who successfully sneaked a stop on the Buenos Aires subway into a match against Fothergill, who lacked the nerve to challenge him on it.
I can’t recall what my point started out to be. Getting along in years, you know.
Kentish Town.
When thinking about MC and rules you must remember that it is essentially British and that the closest analogy would be with the British Constitution. There is no written constitution, but everyone knows what is and isn’t allowed based on precedent and caselaw. MC is much the same. If it had a formal rule framework it would not be able to adapt and grow.
To illustrate this point; in the time I have been playing, the Jubilee Line Extension, The DLR and the Croydon Tramlink have all come into play. This would not have been possible if the rules were in aspic.
So on that note:
Mudchute
Leytonstone
Lyttleton’s Transit, donchaknow. A move with all the stopping power of a crowbar across the live rail.
Smart. Nasty but smart. But you are missing the very point made above - the flexibility of recent additions. That takes away the sting, although it does force you opponent on to the defensive. So given that, and to try to keep play alive I will go up
Elmer’s End
(I’ve always wanted to say that)
Hmm. With only four hours until the end of the month and the semi-annual polarity reversal for maintenance (I have had my Oyster Card holder eel-proofed; have you?) I will cautiously do a Calthorpe Side-step, sacrificing three points and a spondee, to…
Kenton.
'Tis a pity that Brother Owl’s novel, though as yet unsanctioned by the Commission, suggestion of expanding the pitch to New York has not been accepted even as house rules. Otherwise the ideal riposte to his adolescent play of Mudchute would have available, to wit, Flushing.
But Rule Britannia, hip hip, stiff upper lip, and all that rot, chaps.