'Jazz mags' stuffed in hedgerows
Discussion
About 35 years ago, our next door neighbour was a prison officer. He used to pull up in the close in his old Celica and read the w
k mags he'd confiscated off the inmates before he went into the house and had to deal with his battle axe missus.
We used to find them in ditches up the local scrumping lane, always damp, but just readable enough. A great time to be young.
k mags he'd confiscated off the inmates before he went into the house and had to deal with his battle axe missus.We used to find them in ditches up the local scrumping lane, always damp, but just readable enough. A great time to be young.
Edited by Baz Tench on Monday 20th July 23:09
I recall finding them in bushes, or in one case a large stack of them at the end of a terrace of houses.
The strangest one I remember though is finding one under the sofa in my room when I lived in a flat with my dad. I spent a couple of years living with my dad, from about 17-19, and one day I fished out the TV remote from the sofa cushions and found a pristine porno mag under there. It focused on women in latex or rubber costumes, much of which was in some kind of Russian military style. Suffice to say, not my thing.
I've no idea where it came from, but it must have been my dad who put it there for some bizarre reason. I ought to ask him now I'm a lot older!
The strangest one I remember though is finding one under the sofa in my room when I lived in a flat with my dad. I spent a couple of years living with my dad, from about 17-19, and one day I fished out the TV remote from the sofa cushions and found a pristine porno mag under there. It focused on women in latex or rubber costumes, much of which was in some kind of Russian military style. Suffice to say, not my thing.
I've no idea where it came from, but it must have been my dad who put it there for some bizarre reason. I ought to ask him now I'm a lot older!
StevieBee said:
Finding a porno in bush was like finding money!
I remember copies of this edition of Mayfair trading hands for a lot of money at school in the 80s!
http://thumbsnap.com/sc/ozux89Jx.jpg|http://thumbsn...
I included that very issue as a reference in my university dissertation.I remember copies of this edition of Mayfair trading hands for a lot of money at school in the 80s!
http://thumbsnap.com/sc/ozux89Jx.jpg|http://thumbsn...
Really.
(It was on the press portrayal of German terrorism)
StevieBee said:
Finding a porno in bush was like finding money!
I remember copies of this edition of Mayfair trading hands for a lot of money at school in the 80s!
I'd have parted with good money, wham bars whatever you were asking for that. I remember copies of this edition of Mayfair trading hands for a lot of money at school in the 80s!
I found my first example of one handed reading materiel at the age of five.
Apparently I was playing at my mates house over the road when we started rummaging through his Dad's garage. Apparently (I can't remember by my late Dad told me this) we unearthed a stash. Apparently I was so impressed with the content that I brought two mags home and proudly gave them to my Dad expecting him to share my enthusiasm.
My Dad had a quiet word with the man across the road and returned the art pamphlets.
I must have been 13 and I bought a Razzle from the porn merchant at school. Stolen to order I recall. I got the train home from school with the Razzle in my bag. It was pure excitement, like I was carrying some illegal stolen jewel. I ran indoors and straight upstairs to do some "homework" that night.
Years later my mum mentioned that day. I must have been in my 30s. "Remember the day you came back from school with a dirty book?" she asked. Apparently I stayed in my room for hours doing "homework" turned out she knew most of my hiding places at home. The poster above mentioned hiding in plain view. They were the ones she said she never found in my back copies of What Car?
At university I got a girl friend who was serious. Time I thought to grow up, so I transported my treasured stash to a back lane behind some houses and said goodbye to Sadie Foxx, Mitzi with the bucket of wallpaper paste in a feature called "I can"t belive its not spunk" the bird dressed as a traffic warden called Rita, and dear Nikki (22) a shop assistant from Walsall who liked sex with her postman boyfriend Neil and who, she claimed, once took it up three ways with the men in the loading bay.
As I ended my second year at Uni, a Malaysian friend soon to leave for home called me to his room as he was packing. Could I use these he enquired as he opened a cupboard to reveal 3 years worth of pristine, barely w
ked over Mayfair and Fiesta mags. Sixty-plus jazz mags! My girlfriend would not have approved so I stashed them in the student house loft. The following term when the freshers arrived and when I had gauged them, I put together "welcome packs" for each one. A nice starter stash with spares in the loft which for all I know are still there, just right of the loft hatch in a series of bin liners. They were well received,Move the clock forward 8-10 years.. No regular girlfriend and several plastic storage boxes of art in my house. I met a girl and it rapidly became serious. Mindful of my mourning at the loss of my first porn portfolio I called up my single best mate. Would he take them, enjoy them but in the event of this serious girlfriend not working out, would he return them? He would.
I married the girl and it turns out (she has been told this story) she wouldn't have given a damn about a porn collection.
It was then a year or two later that I got a phone call. My best mate was now part of a couple and it was serious and it turned out she was a bit of a Milly Tant and would disapprove of the stash.
He's my best mate, like a brother and I would do anything for him. That's why I told him it wasn't my problem and that he was to dispose of them as he saw fit. At my suggestion, some hedge funds received deposits. There was a lot to get rid of. A big deposit to the hedge funds would have upset the markets in comprehensive schools the length of the county potentially putting some young entrepreneurs out of business.
Recycling would have been sacrilege.
I got a text from him one day saying "Literature sorted". When we met he explained what he had done. Wrapped in bin liners, early one morning, the remains of this once proud stash were left in the doorways of charity shops in a sleepy country town.
wildcat45 said:
I must have been 13 and I bought a Razzle from the porn merchant at school. Stolen to order I recall. I got the train home from school with the Razzle in my bag. It was pure excitement, like I was carrying some illegal stolen jewel.
Ian Dury-Razzle in my pocketIn my yellow jersey, I went out on the nick.
South Street Romford, shopping arcade
Got a Razzle magazine, I never paid
Inside my jacket and away double quick.
Good sense told me, once was enough
But I had a cocky eye on more of this stuff
With the Razzle in my pocket, back to have another peek
Instead of being sneeky I strolled inside,
I put my thieving hand on something rude
I walked right out with a silhouette of nudes
'Hold on sonny' said a voice at my side
'I think you've taken one of my books'
Passers by gave me dirty looks
'Not me mister' I bravely lied
We stopped by the window of a jeweller's shop
'If it's money for your lunch, I'd have given you a loan
Have you got any form, were you on your own?
Round to the station and we'll tell the cops'
'I'm ever so ashamed, it was wicked and rash
Here's the book back, and here's the cash
I never stole before, I promise I'll stop'
'Crime doesn't pay, you've got honest eyes
If we go to the law another thief is born
And I'll get the book back, creased and torn
So return what you've taken and apologise'
I gave him back his nudie book
I said I was sorry, I slung my hook
With the Razzle in my pocket as the second prize
HOGEPH said:
Ian Dury-Razzle in my pocket
In my yellow jersey, I went out on the nick.
South Street Romford, shopping arcade
Got a Razzle magazine, I never paid
Inside my jacket and away double quick.
Good sense told me, once was enough
But I had a cocky eye on more of this stuff
With the Razzle in my pocket, back to have another peek
Instead of being sneeky I strolled inside,
I put my thieving hand on something rude
I walked right out with a silhouette of nudes
'Hold on sonny' said a voice at my side
'I think you've taken one of my books'
Passers by gave me dirty looks
'Not me mister' I bravely lied
We stopped by the window of a jeweller's shop
'If it's money for your lunch, I'd have given you a loan
Have you got any form, were you on your own?
Round to the station and we'll tell the cops'
'I'm ever so ashamed, it was wicked and rash
Here's the book back, and here's the cash
I never stole before, I promise I'll stop'
'Crime doesn't pay, you've got honest eyes
If we go to the law another thief is born
And I'll get the book back, creased and torn
So return what you've taken and apologise'
I gave him back his nudie book
I said I was sorry, I slung my hook
With the Razzle in my pocket as the second prize
Classic track. In my yellow jersey, I went out on the nick.
South Street Romford, shopping arcade
Got a Razzle magazine, I never paid
Inside my jacket and away double quick.
Good sense told me, once was enough
But I had a cocky eye on more of this stuff
With the Razzle in my pocket, back to have another peek
Instead of being sneeky I strolled inside,
I put my thieving hand on something rude
I walked right out with a silhouette of nudes
'Hold on sonny' said a voice at my side
'I think you've taken one of my books'
Passers by gave me dirty looks
'Not me mister' I bravely lied
We stopped by the window of a jeweller's shop
'If it's money for your lunch, I'd have given you a loan
Have you got any form, were you on your own?
Round to the station and we'll tell the cops'
'I'm ever so ashamed, it was wicked and rash
Here's the book back, and here's the cash
I never stole before, I promise I'll stop'
'Crime doesn't pay, you've got honest eyes
If we go to the law another thief is born
And I'll get the book back, creased and torn
So return what you've taken and apologise'
I gave him back his nudie book
I said I was sorry, I slung my hook
With the Razzle in my pocket as the second prize
I remember at school a couple of us finding a centre fold on the school field,it was of a woman laying on her side parking a large toy inside her hairy growler. We laid it across the desk of the teacher that held our next lesson. HE WAS NOT AMUSED the whole class was kept in and he bought the head mistress in to the class to bk us,as no one would own up to it the whole class got a detention. It was worth it though to see the look of disgust on the heads face as the teacher showed her.
k us,as no one would own up to it the whole class got a detention. It was worth it though to see the look of disgust on the heads face as the teacher showed her.sly fox said:
Porn mags were a nice bit of income- buy them from the dodgy newsagents by Southfields Tube station, spend 15 minutes walking down the road to school glancing at the contents, then sell them to boys in lower years for a 100% mark up before 9am 
Dragon's den would be proud.
AClownsPocket said:
markmullen said:
I'm amazed and intrigued that anyone would have their grot delivered.
As a former paperboy for 4 years, I can attest to this being true. Some people just didn't care about appearances 
When one of my brother's friend's parents divorced his father left the marital home leaving several large cardboard boxes of porn mags in the garage. These contained hundreds upon hundreds of copies of Fiesta, Playboy etc. dating back to the mid-Seventies.
All of us got magazines from the months of our births. I also had mags which included either Mel or Kim from "Mel and Kim" (I forget which) as well as a youthful Courtney Love.
All of us got magazines from the months of our births. I also had mags which included either Mel or Kim from "Mel and Kim" (I forget which) as well as a youthful Courtney Love.
I remember a couple of mags being passed around a group of mates at school - Playbirds was one. Anyway, when my turn I figured the one place my mum would never find them is in my subbuteo box in the bedroom cupboard. 2 weeks later its my birthday. We're at my uncle and aunt's house...and they present me with a specially made birthday cake with...two subbuteo footballers on. From my set.
If the ground had opened up right, there I'd have jumped in.
If the ground had opened up right, there I'd have jumped in.
I remember a group of us going out on a bike ride when we were roughly 10 years old. We stumbled upon a bonfire in the middle of nowhere which looked very recently lit, upon closer inspection we noticed the fuel was a massive pile of porn mags which we hastily rescued with sticks.
After the best examples were saved and cooled down we all had a look through and chose a couple each to sneak home. Those were the days!
After the best examples were saved and cooled down we all had a look through and chose a couple each to sneak home. Those were the days!
I had a paper round throughout my teens but nobody on my round had any grot delivered, so no chance of any going AWOL in my paper bag.
My mate was head paperboy, and as well as having responsibility for putting all the rounds together each morning, the lucky bd also looked after the return of unsold magazines of all sorts to the distributors. This was the 80's, pre-recycling, so all the distributors wanted to see was the returned masthead torn off the top of the mag, not the actual mag itself. Ergo lots of copies of The People's Friend and Woman's Own went in the bin, but anything vaguely grot-esque was officially sanctioned resellable material at our boy's grammar school.
This was when Football Casuals was the urban dress code of choice, so said mate was always resplendent in the finest Fila tracksuits and Diadora Borg Elites, all thanks to the masturbatory habits of the teenagers of the West Midlands!
Having left Uni and moved down South, I shared a house with a couple of mates, one Friday night one of them burst through the door with a look of glee on his face, and at least twenty copies of hardcore 'Whitehouse' under his arm. They just appeared in the street as he walked home from work one Friday evening, from under the back bumper of a Mk3 Escort that had just pulled off (arf, arf!).
We never knew if Escort driver dropped them there and discreetly drove off leaving my mate to do an immediate re-homing, or if someody else had left them there, but frankly we didn't care. They became the house grot library for several years, not-so-secretly stashed in the airing cupboard out of sight of any visiting girlfriends. We eventually went our separate ways buying our own houses, so on moving out had a last night out down the pub, sorted out who owed what for bills, then divvy'd up who wanted to keep what from said left handed reading material. I think I may still have mine in the loft (memo to self:check before missus finds it).
The 'excess stock' was then returned to exactly the same spot we found it under cover of darkness, and was gone by the next morning. I like to think that the grateful recipient will in time also hand them down to the younger generation!
My mate was head paperboy, and as well as having responsibility for putting all the rounds together each morning, the lucky b
d also looked after the return of unsold magazines of all sorts to the distributors. This was the 80's, pre-recycling, so all the distributors wanted to see was the returned masthead torn off the top of the mag, not the actual mag itself. Ergo lots of copies of The People's Friend and Woman's Own went in the bin, but anything vaguely grot-esque was officially sanctioned resellable material at our boy's grammar school. This was when Football Casuals was the urban dress code of choice, so said mate was always resplendent in the finest Fila tracksuits and Diadora Borg Elites, all thanks to the masturbatory habits of the teenagers of the West Midlands!
Having left Uni and moved down South, I shared a house with a couple of mates, one Friday night one of them burst through the door with a look of glee on his face, and at least twenty copies of hardcore 'Whitehouse' under his arm. They just appeared in the street as he walked home from work one Friday evening, from under the back bumper of a Mk3 Escort that had just pulled off (arf, arf!).
We never knew if Escort driver dropped them there and discreetly drove off leaving my mate to do an immediate re-homing, or if someody else had left them there, but frankly we didn't care. They became the house grot library for several years, not-so-secretly stashed in the airing cupboard out of sight of any visiting girlfriends. We eventually went our separate ways buying our own houses, so on moving out had a last night out down the pub, sorted out who owed what for bills, then divvy'd up who wanted to keep what from said left handed reading material. I think I may still have mine in the loft (memo to self:check before missus finds it).
The 'excess stock' was then returned to exactly the same spot we found it under cover of darkness, and was gone by the next morning. I like to think that the grateful recipient will in time also hand them down to the younger generation!
We worked for a broad minded newsagent, top bloke he was and he use to let us have them on tick or sale/return, return it still intact and it could go back on the shelf 
Hence why I am such a gentle and sensitive lover, all that time thinking "must not crease it or it will cost me £2 for my £4.50 wages", certain ones were "keepers" though and got some serious mileage.
Found my little brothers stash once, it worried us a bit as it consisted only of the very specific bits cut out and put in a folder !
Hence why I am such a gentle and sensitive lover, all that time thinking "must not crease it or it will cost me £2 for my £4.50 wages", certain ones were "keepers" though and got some serious mileage.
Found my little brothers stash once, it worried us a bit as it consisted only of the very specific bits cut out and put in a folder !
I still remember vividly the day one enterprising chap sold his father's stash around the class at morning break. All was well until the afternoon, when someone unconnected reported a theft from his schoolbag, (but not of an art pamphlet), and the headmaster conducted a random search of bags. By some astronomical improbability, he managed to only pick the bags that weren't concealing the recently purchased glossy filth, but there were many sweaty and trembling schoolboys, myself included, during the shakedown.
I remember a chap at my high school a true porn king and connoisseur and my first furtive request for some "harder stuff" from him resulted in me viewing his collection of "available for sale" in his locker. The locker was about five foot tall about a third of it was devoted to a pile of good quality filth, the rest of the locker was empty 
Purchased several playbirds, lovebirds and whitehouse, think I may still have them.
Purchased several playbirds, lovebirds and whitehouse, think I may still have them.Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff