Blackpool Grammar School Magazine - 1971 NICHOLAS BUTLER, 5 Alpha

BLACKPOOL

Fee fi fo fum
I smell the blood of an Englishman
Be he alive or be he dead
I'll grind his bones to make my bread

NURSERY RHYME.
(NB. bread' is common slang for money).

It was raining. It is always raining in Blackpool. The tableaux gaudy pictores were reflected, splashing and spluttering with the passing of people, onto the pavement arid the road A tramcar passed me, carrying its load of pilgrims from one end of the display to the other. And in the middle the ultimate shrine, the ‘mecca’ of all pilgrims, the Tower, pinnacled by the shining beam of light whose operator, God-like picks out the good from the evil. The good are rewarded with a flash from the electric halo.
Another tramcar, vaguely disguised as a ship (I think), rolls by, plastered with advertisements. Why do they come, all those people behind the lighted windows? Are their lives so dull that even this is a relief from their boredom? On the road cars and coaches crawl past,. all heading to infinity. to the place where the lights end. They are drawn like bats to the light and the noise.

I walked faster now, the rain beating more heavily on the roofs of the cars. Past the Disney tableaux. The Jungle Book-that is most appropriate. This a jungle, of electric light bulbs and train cars, of light and noise.

Leaving the tableaux behind I came to the swinging pictures of 'pop’ stars and film stars, to the spacemen hanging over the road. I could almost hear them saving 'Mission accomplished- public fooled !' All around me the rain had driven people into fish and chip shops and the ensuing debris littered the pavement like ashes at a funeral. This is the funeral of sense with eight million mourners who come to the wake every year.

Near the pier a small hand of Salvation Army musicians was exhorting passers-by to join them in the singing of popular hymns. On the other side of the street a small man with a sandwich hoard proclaimed that the end was nigh. 'prepare to meet thy doom! He was drowned by the persistent calling of a large youth "Penny for the guy, please Mister," Since the 'please' was more a threat than simple politeness, I gave.

Finally. I reached the Tower, I stared up at this achievement of human folly from the other side of the road. The spotlight flashed over me, then went hack and stopped, having found its enemy and considered me. It's operator knew that the tower could beat my will to walk away. It enticed me to enter with its bright lights and beat music. Together they were slightly hypnotic.

Once I had entered I was surrounded by a gang of one-armed bandits. They challenged me to a show 'down. Intoxicated by the lights arid noise I accepted their challenge. Inevitably I lost.

Blackpool can vassalize everyone's will. Not by virtue but by vice.

NICHOLAS BUTLER, 5 Alpha.

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