Skinhead

I just to have to share my 2-star review of this cult classic from late 1970, for I truly can’t work out whether this book is actually a cult classic or a comedy

So what have we got? 16-year-old Joe Hawkins, an East End skinhead whose life is ruled by violence, and we certainly read a lot about his reputation and anyone 'unfortunate enough to get in his way.' In just the first few pages there’s the suggestion that Roy Hawkins, Joe’s father, gets Joe to sort out a docklands trade union leader who’s got it in for Roy. 'I wouldn’t annoy Roy unless you want to meet up with his son, Joe ….. I wouldn’t annoy Joe Hawkins. Not ever!'

Ed Black has apparently taken care of himself in some weird corners of the globe and he hardly goes anywhere without four of his special cronies who act as bodyguards and who he can count on to protect him, yet 'the mention of Joe Hawkins sends a shiver of fear down his spine.'

Gosh! Well Joe Hawkins must certainly be a hard-nut if just the mention of his name can strike fear into such a man. I found myself in a cold sweat over the idea of just turning the page, but felt obligated to brave it, praying that simply reading the book wouldn’t agitate this fictional character. Can East End skinhead, Joe Hawkins, really be this tough?

Er, well, not really, I’m afraid. We meet Joe on Saturday and follow him to the pub where admittedly he makes two huge black men back down because they’d heard about his reputation. What reputation? Unless I’m missing some kind of hidden message here, it seems to me that he’s got a reputation for getting a spanking in just about every scrap he gets into.

First of all, him and his mates pick on a guy on the District Line. This fellow’s outnumbered and they’re tooled up but he fights back, withstanding everything they’ve got and still fighting back. All in all it’s a bit of an embarrassment for Joe.

West Ham are playing away at Stamford Bridge, and Joe and his mates - believing in their own ‘reputation’ it seems - get into the Shed End and kick off. Now it’s their turn to be outnumbered, but I’m sorry to say they don’t give such a good account of themselves as the guy on the train. Joe gets stabbed and a jagged broken bottle is pushed into his face with savage force.

Now say what you like, but that would be enough for me. I’d be off home to nurse my wounds. But Joe’s not finished getting beaten up yet. Back to the pub to find it full of dockers and other assorted heavies, men who weren’t going to back down to anyone 'not even with Joe Hawkins’ reputation.' And they certainly don’t. Joe and his mates kick off and – yes, you guessed it - get punched all around the pub, kicked all over the floor and he ends up with three darts in his backside.

I shouldn’t think that the docklands trade union leader has much to worry about, would you? So far, on the first day we meet him Joe’s been punched, stabbed, bottled, kicked all round a pub and ended up with three darts sticking out of his arse! Not a great day for anyone of his ‘reputation.’

Sunday is the day of rest, so Joe and his mates take a vacation from being beaten up in order to head down to Brighton and bash up some Hippies and rape their girlfriend. They only ever seem to win against soft targets, you see, those who won’t fight back. It’s just that not being born too bright and completely lacking in those special survival skills common to most kids brought up on the streets, they seem to always take the ill-advised option of picking on the wrong people.

A case in hand would be the church youth club they attack on Monday night. Joe managed to not get beaten up at all on Sunday, and also for most of Monday, so the church youth club provides a target for him to re-establish his much-valued reputation. Him and his mates stroll in the door, pushing people about, grabbing hold of girls and getting into a fight with one lad who doesn’t like bullies and decides to stand up for himself. He absolutely thrashes Joe, landing several punches to the face – which must surely have opened fresh wounds from Saturday’s bottling – and only stopping when a police officer saves Joe any further distress.

So in the last 48 hours Joe Hawkins – he of the fearsome reputation – has been stabbed, bottled, kicked all round a pub by Dockers, had three darts stuck in his arse and he’s now been knocked about by a choirboy.

Hahahahahaha

The copper who's saved him from the choirboy, no doubt fearing he’s the only person in the whole of East London who hasn’t taken a pop at Joe in the last two days, chops him in the throat for good measure. Joe finishes the night he’d hoped to re-establish his reputation as the most fearsome street fighter in East London by puking his guts up on the pavement outside a church.

You’d think that would be enough for Joe, wouldn’t you? I mean, he can’t even beat up a choirboy!

Have you ever met one of those people, always bigging themselves up, who get into a fight every Saturday night, but who never win? They get a spanking from a different person every Saturday night! Well that’s Joe Hawkins, and by this time I couldn’t wait to read on. Who was going to knock him about next? Was he going to target a lunch club for Age UK, and were a couple of old ladies going to hammer him over the tea and biscuits?

Well Joe’s a coalman and he’s always threatening the pensioners he delivers to after he’s altered the bill in his favour. Somehow news of this never gets back to the coal board, but that’s just one of several inconsistencies in the story. Anyway, much as I’d like to report that a pensioner kicks him all around his front yard, it’s an old couple’s son who Joe comes up against, on leave from the Army. He’s trained in unarmed combat and when Joe aims a kick at him, Joe finds himself on his back in a pile of coal after receiving a punch to the jaw, a chop to the throat – possibly in exactly the same place as the copper chopped him the night before – and a kick in the balls.

I’d give it up, Joe, if I were you. Let’s face it; it’s just not your week mate, is it? And really .... you can't fight, can you?

But this soldier’s made Joe feel inferior. Personally, I’d have thought that taking a battering from a lad in a church youth club would have made him feel inferior, but then what do I know?

East London is famous for producing hardened street fighting men, but when all’s said and done Joe Hawkins isn’t one of them. He does get revenge on the soldier, but he does it in the dark, without warning and with a gang of about 15 skinheads all armed with bottles, iron bars and an assortment of other weapons.

So although Joe is reputed to have a ‘fearsome reputation’ we’re hardly likely to see him standing toe-to-toe ‘on the cobbles’ taking on Gypsy bare-knuckle fighters in a fair scrap, which traditionally is how East London brawlers earned their reputation.

There’s trouble in a youth club in Ilford, a lad gets shot, and Joe’s involved. When the police come around to talk to him Roy Hawkins is so fed up with his antics that he takes his son upstairs and punches him all around his bedroom. OUCH! Joe’s face, after his disaster of a week must be absolutely black and blue from being punched all over a pub by dockers, punched all around a youth club by a choirboy and being bottled in the face by Chelsea supporters. Not to mention a few cracked ribs at least.

As his dad lays into him, no doubt opening fresh wounds, bruising his already-bruised face even darker shades of black, blue and purple, he must have found himself thinking, 'Wasn’t there somewhere else I should have been this week?'

There are a plethora of inconsistencies in the book. We’re told that his idea of a slap-up meal consists of chips with everything, and a couple of pages later he orders steak with boiled potatoes. He comes up against a Hell’s Angel in a leather jacket. Since when did Hell’s Angels wear leather? I thought it was part of their ethos never to wear leather. He goes to a pop concert. A skinhead going to listen to bubblegum pop! Skinheads listened to early reggae, blue beat, rock-steady and ska, not pop. And finally, on the way to the concert he feels safe from the law because 'his was a face that did not conflict with those around him.'

WHAT!

After all the hammerings he’s taken that week (from dockers, choirboys, his dad and Chelsea supporters) he must have looked like he’s just done 12 rounds with Mike Tyson, been run over by a concrete wagon and had a bear chew on his head for a while.

Hardly a face to blend in!

All in all, this book is a load of tosh and not the paperback-nasty I remember from my youth. I couldn't realistically offer it any more than two stars.

Mind you, I’m still a little nervous of Joe Hawkins. Supposing I got into a fight with him on a Saturday night and by some miraculous feat he beat me!!! I know, I know, I know, but can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?

I’d never live it down!

Copyright © Karl Wiggins