Grease and Eyeliner, A Mills and Swoon Short by Sarnia de la Mare for Tale Teller Club

It began, fittingly, with a fight.  And a pair of fishnet tights. 

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Grease and eyeliner a Mills and swoon short by Sarnia
de la Maree. It began fittingly with a fight and
a pair of fishnet tights. Brighton August Bank Holiday nineteen
sixty four, Mods in slim cut Italian suits and dustbin
lid parkas swarmed the seafront on Lambrettas like a horde
of well coifed hornets. Rockers in leathers growled back from

(00:22):
their cafe tables, the chrome on their motorbikes gleaming like
polished knuckles amid the crowd and chaos. Lulugreen, seventeen and
already infamous for smoking menthols behind Woolworth's, strutted along the
promenade in a white PVC mac Merry, quant lashes and
the most scandalous miniskirt East Sussex had ever gossiped about her.

(00:43):
Mad badge flashed silver against her chest, daring the world
to look away. And then she saw Johnny Ray. He
leaned against his triumph Bonneville like it was a wealthy parent.
Black leather, tight across shoulders, built for sin, a sneer
so well practiced it was practically choreography. The only soft
thing about him was the curl of briel cream that
dropped artfully across his forehead. He was quite obviously a rocker,

(01:07):
which made him quite obviously forbidden fruit. But Lulu's eyes
didn't blink you staring or just brain damaged from the fumes.
He grinned. Depends you offering fresh air. So began the
secret affair of beech huts and backbeats. Lulu's aunty owned
a beech hut along the sea front in Hove. It
was typically pink for an elder who wore her curls

(01:29):
even to swim in. I will give you a key, dear,
she had said, for you and your school friends. Love
blossomed in the pink beech hut in Hove, not in daylight,
but in snatched moments between Mad's versus Rockers brawls and
Mum's weekend meat loaf. They had to replace a bowl
after one night of hurried fumbling, and then a table

(01:49):
leg after the first night they did it. On Saturdays,
Lulu tap danced through Carnebie Street boutiques, collecting eye liner
pots and forty fives of dusty springfield. By night, she'd
hop on the back of Johnny's bike, clinging to him
like a second skin as they tore down coastal roads
under a moon that approved of rebellion in the wooden

(02:10):
shadows of Brighton's painted beech huts. He'd play her everly
brother's songs on a beat up guitar, his fingers smelling
faintly of engine oil and licorice rislas. She'd hum along heels,
kicked off hair back comb to heaven. You know, she
said once. I should be scared of what my mum'll
do if she finds out. Johnny kissed the inside of

(02:31):
her wrist, soft and slow. So should I. But I'm
more scared of not seeing you. It didn't take long
for word to spread. Brighton had ears. Lulu's father, a
jazz loving ex army man with strict opinions on hem
lengths and haircuts, banned her from leaving the house after
six Johnny's mother, a chain smoking former tiller girl, threatened

(02:52):
to lace his tea with laxatives if he didn't find
a nice essex girl with a full fringe and some
bloody sense. The lovers tried to They even had a
trial separation. Lulu dated a mad named Colin, who quoted
Bob Dylan and couldn't kiss properly. Johnny flirted with a
rockabilly girl who wore a ponytail and called him Daddy
without irony, but it was no use. It was like

(03:14):
dating Elvis, then dating Valdunican. Johnny Ray was Lulu's Elvis.
The final straw came when Lulu's dad caught her sneaking
out of the window wearing Go Go boots. He grounded
her indefinitely and took her dance set. You'll thank me
one day, he said. She did not, but she did
understand his motives, albeit twenty years later, when Johnny and

(03:36):
Lulu's son was hanging with the wrong crowd. Two nights later,
with the help of sugar paste, a hair dresser mate
from beauty college, and a bottle of stolen vodka, Lulu escaped.
Johnny met her outside the old peer, bouquet of fish
and chips in one hand, a ring pop in the other.
They didn't marry in white. She wore a silver mini

(03:57):
dress and blue eye liner that reached half way to
her temples. He wore a leather jacket and a smile
he couldn't shake. They said their vows in the Brighton
Registry office, then danced on the pier to the Kinks
You Really Got Me. The spent the night in a
cheap hotel room with floral wall paper and sticky carpet,
because love, as it turns out, doesn't care much for categories.

(04:18):
It doesn't check jackets or bikes or what your dad thinks.
It just shows up, revs its engine, and weights the end.
Pop over to our website to listen to the Kinks
You Really Got Me tail teller club dot com