Mishprint
by Jack McInroy
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or the first five years or so of
its existence I was blissfully unaware of a certain publication dedicated to
Dulwich Hamlet Football Club. It was called Champion
Hill Street Blues. When I eventually did come across it I happily bought
one or two issues. It contained ramblings about the club I supported. The only
other place of which one could regularly read about the Hamlet was in the
matchday programme or a few paragraphs in the South London Press twice a week. After
reading the December 1993 Number 24 edition of CHSB fanzine, I wrote to the editor, Mishi Morath, shamelessly pointing
out the faults of this ramshackle magazine. Perhaps this was very remiss of me.
Well out of order to be honest, but I felt at the time I had some valid points
to make.
Mishi
replied to me personally with some valid points of his own, and said that the
magazine was governed by its contributors. If I could do any better, then send
him some stuff and he would put it in. After all, he had been putting out
fanzines since as early as 1984 – the Pink
& Blue Bushwacker – when he was just seventeen! And he has never really
stopped. Catch the supporters’ coach to an away fixture and read his current
offering, the very enjoyable All Aboard
The Skylark.
My
letter appeared in the following edition of CHSB
along with several pages of my own contributions that I put in the post to an
address on the Aylesbury Estate, just a few hundred metres from my home.
Part
of my original letter read, “…another 60p worth of countless typing errors,
spelling misteaks, mindless obscenities and moronic insults. In its present
state your magazine must only appeal to a handful of fans. My opinion of CHSB is not a lone one. Don’t
misunderstand me, there is nothing wrong with writing for a small group of
friends, but surely it would be better for us all if your readership was
enlarged and the bigger section of fans was catered for…. [You also need to]
provide the much missed ‘fun’ element that is sadly missing. The cheap laughs
that you aim for by prefixing or suffixing that nasty little word “scum”
everywhere falls flat on these chucklebuds. …The good points were scattered
through Richard Watts’ piece.” Richard’s
masterful, insightful match reports are always worth reading.
Coming
from a graphics background, I felt the standard of artwork alone was atrocious.
Looking back now I find it a bit strange to have taken this view. Many years
earlier I owned a handful of issues of Sniffin’
Glue, the punk rock fanzine of the 1970s with its DIY poison pen letter type,
magic marker headlines and high contrast images. I had since become a bit
snobby and thought that CHSB was in
dire need of a proper editor.
Although
I had been aware of Mishi on the terraces of Champion Hill since he was a young
teenager, I did not actually introduce myself to him until January 1994. I then
realised that nobody else was going to edit this fanzine. And why should they?
It was his. He had conceived it, nurtured it and brought it to maturity. The
fact that I looked upon the finished product as a spotty juvenile delinquent
rather than a fine young handsome man was neither here nor there.
Over
the next five and a half years I was a regular contributor to the CHSB. My illustrations, obscure jokes, attempted
humorous articles, serious historical pieces, spoof love letters from the hapless
Member of Parliament for Dulwich to the Dulwich Hamlet chairman, and the odd
poem, very rarely, if ever, appeared under my own name. The nom de plumes I
chose were borrowed from others. Gravely Roberts for example, is just author Robert
Graves back to front and Rufus T Firefly came from a character in a Marx
Brothers film.
Although
CHSB had always occasionally featured
pieces on Hamlet history, articles began to appear more regularly on the
history of our once famous club. Mishi, myself, Roger Deason and Andy Tucker,
to name but a few, took it upon ourselves to do our own research. Others, like
Ralph Hopkins, who saw things first hand all those years ago, wrote about their
own experiences. It soon became apparent that there was a real interest in
things ancient as well as modern. Mishi next decided he was going to produce
something called the Hamlet Historian
dedicated to the club’s past exploits. A brilliant idea.
In
1996, my own book on the Hamlet’s Victory Team of 1920 was published. This was
a real confidence boost for me, especially as I was in the middle of a long
period of unemployment at the time. It is no fun attending countless job
interviews and finding no one wants you. Five hundred copies were sold or given
away and a large proportion of the profits went towards the Raise The Roof Fund, a scheme to build a
covered stand behind one of the goals at Champion Hill. In the end this never
got off the ground and the money, much to my own chagrin, was channeled
elsewhere.
Soon
afterwards, our friendly neighbourhood programme editor, John Lawrence
hurriedly brought out the first part of his own ‘The Story of Dulwich Hamlet in 100 weekly parts.’ An unexpected
rival we felt were now up against!
And
then things went decidedly pear shaped. Mishi’s ill conceived comments
regarding the Turkish earthquake in the penultimate CHSB Editorial didn’t go down too well in some quarters. It was
blatantly obvious that some people had a right to be upset. Especially any
Turks associated with Dulwich Hamlet Football Club.
Following
that notorious issue of CHSB, I was
approached by a group of fans who decided that this was the last straw. They
were reluctant to write for that fanzine anymore. Would I like to join them in
creating a new less shoddy magazine? I accepted the offer but pointed out,
however, that I would not want to do anything behind Mishi’s back. Until he was
told that a rival to CHSB was hitting
the stands (and the terraces) I would continue with him. I seem to remember
being assured that he would be spoken to very shortly. Whether he was or not, I
don’t know. I very rarely frequented the bar or engaged in terrace talk, so
most of the time I didn’t know what was going on. No change there then.
With
hindsight I feel I may have been slightly misled. I certainly don’t recall
doing anything dishonest or underhand. My memory is that Mishi wasn’t happy
about the exodus of his ‘staff writers’ all jumping ship at the same time. But
I was under the impression that Richard would take over the new editorial role
while Mishi would become a contributor to the new magazine. His main concern
could then be the Hamlet Historian,
something perhaps more suitable and certainly closer to his heart.
I
committed myself to provide four pages per issue to a new magazine, Thinkin’ Pink n’ Talkin’ Blues. It was
my usual fayre, the same old ‘same old’ that went into Champion Hill Street
The
final CHSB was produced, and was quickly
followed by the first appearance of Thinkin’
Pink n’ Talkin’ Blues in October 1999. By then the country was in the
middle of the internet revolution and some wondered if this would spell the end
of the printed fanzine. It didn’t – fanzines just went online instead, with
everything else. Adam Shahin’s Dulwich
Hamlet Online site www.dhfc.net
(which had already been in existence some time) meant that topics could be
raised and discussed instantly, instead of weeks after the event, as in the
case of a printed fanzine. And without a paste-up line in sight.
Mishi
Morath, king of the paste-up line, may have been down but he was not out, and
was set to make a comeback. Pink &
Booze – the two loves of his life – was the title of his new offering. He
was going to show them, the insurrection, that he could go it alone. He did
have one or two faithful men who provided him with a few odds and ends – most
notably Paul Griffin. But even Griff, it became clear, was saving his own sterling
efforts for his excellent hyperbolic Southwark
News match reports. Reports and news items, which in turn, were repeated on
what was quickly becoming a more and more slick website.
But
now there were two Dulwich fanzines to collect and read – your poor man’s Snooze and SLoP I suppose. Like the Beatles and the Stones alternating their
singles and LPs in the sixties, Richard and Mishi came to a gentlemen’s agreement
that they would not publish in the same week. And they never did. The first
four issues of TP&TB had a mighty
40 pages each. A tall order, I think, to keep up. The fifth and final issue
(dated October 2000) was 12 pages short of the mark, but there was plenty
there. 28 pages is ample for a fanzine. In that issue Richard stated that he
needed more input from others, else the venture would fold. P&B on the other hand soon became
little more than a ‘Do they mean us?’ fest.
Both
Pink n’ Booze and TP&TB eventually disappeared out of
sight. I always enjoyed reading Mishi’s opinions (and still do). The swearing
and the blasphemy I abhor, and the gutter humour and tabloid style revelations
I was never too keen on either; yet I was continually amazed that he talked a
lot of sense a lot of the time – despite his sometimes drunken editorial vomit,
and a seeming headlong rush towards an early grave through his spiraling alcoholism.
Someone needed to, as Gary Lineker once mouthed, “Have a word with him.”
Thankfully
Mishi
eventually saw his alcohol addiction for what it was and managed to quit drink
altogether. For over a decade now the club’s most renowned supporter has been
‘dry’. Long may it continue. He remained editor of the Hamlet Historian until he handed me the reins in 2003. His regular offerings
and encouragement helped me take on the new role with a fresh zeal. Collecting
first hand accounts from old players and supporters, and digging up buried
treasures from a glorious past has, we trust, brought the Hamlet’s history
alive to our own generation.
I
have a lot to thank Mishi for. Had he not asked me to send some articles in to CHSB I would never have gone on to churn
out countless send up pieces that people seemed to enjoy reading, or go on to do
so much research. That in turn led to writing a small book about the club. And
then going to great lengths to ensure Edgar Kail received a Southwark People’s
blue plaque, as well as commissioning a fitting bronze monument to Pa Wilson
the father of Dulwich Hamlet. So I have him to thank for that. But this is
beginning to sound more and more like an obituary to Mishi D. Morath. And
that’s the last thing he’d want.
Jack
McInroy This article was published in HH25 Spring 2014
Slightly
adapted from a previously unpublished piece written in 2001.
