How many times have you stabbed yourself in the bollocks through your trouser pockets with that particularly toolish tool?
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What, for pleasure, or on accident?
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I think the really shocking thing here is that you are following Jeremy Vine 
Was a link of a link, I have an image to keep
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Could you imagine what the BLM guys could do in Merka with that kind of organising 
ÂŁ366 to service and MOT a 14 year old Corsa.
Almost definitely more than itâs worth.
It appears that weâve done 1200 miles since last year.
The way things are going that will be my mileage soon.
Before lockdown was an average of 1000 miles a month.
Now about 200 and that is only because I have made a few trips to my Dadâs house.
Wheeler dealers next series
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My new washing machine is direct drive.
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What cable are you using,?
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Bit early in the morning for punctuation like that surely?
Itâs called the Worcester comma 
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Wouldnât have been my choice (I Feel Love is probably my favourite of the top 10) but it is just a list after all.
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Iâd have gone for that based on the impact it had and far reaching influence on music over last 40 years.
Tex & Zonk at Kensington Market (1972).
It was requested that I write a short potted history about the original âLoon Pantsâ that were designed, manufactured and marketed by my trading company Craig Stuart Fashions Ltd in the early 1970s.
So for anyone vaguely interested here we goâŠ
.
RANTINGS OF TEX THE LOON PANT KING (Part 1).
First question always asked is how I felt about being the inventor of âLoon Pantsâ. Well admittedly itâs a rather dubious claim to fame, but to be fair they were extremely trendy between 1970 & 1975. Regardless of the fact they are now thought of as a bit of a joke, almost everybody was wearing them at the time and a lot of people made a great deal of money from good old loons. The first pair ever sold was from the back of a mini van at the infamous 1970 IOW Festival featuring Jimi Hendrix, ELP & The Who etc. We started with 200 or 300 pairs that sold out within a couple of days so it soon became apparent how popular they were destined to be.
After that I punted them round Kenny Market to Whispering Kite and Lionel Avery at Ken Toddâs plus a few other stall holders and they took off immediately. They were called Elephant Flares to start with but soon became known as âLoon Pantsâ which obviously struck a chord with the public. Sales went stratospheric at Kensington Market and they quickly took off nationwide. Available in every conceivable colour and fabric they became iconic throughout the UK as part of the âpost hippieâ uniform, usually worn together with tank tops and stack healed platform boots. Or alternatively with frog fronts or tie-dye granddad shirts. Amazingly âLoonsâ stayed in style for half a decade until Baggies, South Sea Bubble and the Punk scene took over.
Even the V&A requested a pair for permanent display at the museum together with a matching loon jacket. So to answer his question, I guess that I do feel quite proud in a surreal kind of way that Craig Stuart loons became a small part of rag trade history.
To be continuedâŠ
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Never have I heard them referred to as loon pants - Surely that is a US thing?
More incoming
RANTINGS OF TEX THE LOON PANT KING (Part2)
The initial batch of Craig Stuart âLoon Pantsâ was made in 1970 at the Harlesden Blouse Company which for some bizarre reason was actually in Maygrove Road, West Hampstead. Then as sales increased we started using other manufactures in the north of England at Scunthorpe, Rotherham, Leeds, Hebden Bridge and our main headquarters in Sheffield where my business partner Stuart âZonkâ Knox was now based.
As orders started flooding in from Kensington Market we decided to treat ourselves to a Jaguar Mk X so we could deliver direct to the door in style rather than using the old clapped out mini van. This was just prior to the installation of parking meters on Young Street so it was still possible to park right outside the entrance for free. It was easy to get a 1000 pairs of loons in the huge boot so weâd be zipping up and down the motorway at break-neck speeds every few days to satisfy demand. The insane thing was that the brakes on the Jag were virtually none existent and it took two miles to stop, rather like an oil tanker. This was still in the days when people used to thumb rides, so on the way back up north Iâd pick up a few hitch hikers and drive flat out scaring them and myself half to death. When not doing deliveries Iâd be schlepping all over the country searching for new customers and picking up orders at places like Marcus Price in Newcastle, Boodle-Am in Leeds, Jons City & Western plus dozens more in Manchester, Sheffield, York, Bristol and infact most everywhere.
It wasnât long before we acquired an office and showroom at Kenny Market on the top floor in Young Street right next to Ken Toddâs den. Miraculously we even had a key to our own private bog, the only one in whole of the building. However, being somewhat young and irresponsible at the time, it wasnât long before we were in trouble with the market security bouncers for taking pot shots from our window at traffic wardens patrolling the newly installed meters directly outside. Also for pouring water onto the customers heads immediately below us for a laugh. Understandably some of them didnât find it quite as funny as we did and so complained to management, leaving us on our final warning.
By now the company had taken on an office manager and a van driver so there were usually three of our vehicles parked more or less permanently on Young Street during working hours. Almost daily we would receive up to half a dozen tickets which soon started piling up gathering dust in the office. True to form we just ignored them until months later a very scary, official looking meter maid in full Nazi regalia goose stepped through the door demanding payment for literally hundreds of outstanding fines. After the initial panic it gradually became apparent that she was actually quite amenable so we sat her down and promptly proceeded to ply her with alcohol from our amply stocked âhospitalityâ fridge. After a right skin full, a mutually acceptable deal was agreed by offering an initial âincentiveâ followed by regular minimum âtokenâ payment to cover all future tickets, which saved us an absolute fortune.
At itâs peak Craig Stuart had up to twelve factories mainly in Hebden Bridge, Todmorden and other towns along the length of the Calder Valley. These would all be churning out loons, jackets, shirts, dungarees, Oxford Bags, hot pants and all sorts of other mad gear. Angry Pants (so called after the Angry Brigade blew up Bibaâs) were imported from Hong Kong. Great name but they never caught on in quite the same way as loons. Weâd be selling up to 10,000 pairs a week plus all the other stuff and basically coining it in, to put it mildly.
This was slap bang in the middle of the oil crisis, petrol shortages and the three day week that caused endless power cuts and lengthy blackouts. As cosy as it was living by candle light, there was rubbish and even corpses piling up in the streets not to mention IRA bombs exploding all over London. On the upside we had smarmy unemployed merchant bankers queuing at our door begging for a job, happy days. Even whilst all this was going on we would think nothing of walking around the market with a couple of grand stuffed down our boots.
The strange thing is that first and foremost I was always into music, having played in several pro recording bands during the 60s. This rag trade adventure was just a sideline that basically started as a hobby making stage clothes. Luckily a very lucrative one because I never made a bean playing in rock bands.
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