I don’t believe for a second the incurious fantasist
ever lived in Liverpool, spent any meaningful time there whatsoever, or even spent the night there beyond
maybe (generously) a handful of times if for work reasons absolutely forced to. I’m imagining his commute was similar to that of his Glasgow back and forth-into and out of the classes he was required to teach then immediately back home to London. His entire Liverpool experience was him getting from JMU to the bus station and back, probably by cab and definitely traveling there as infrequently as he could get away with. His nonsensical imaginings and stories about the good kind (and not so good and kind) simple White folk of Liverpool and their encounterings of the exotic Black fella are just testament to what an incurious, dull, often offensive self-absorbed fabulist he was.
FFS look at his “old Liverpool haunts”
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and there’s the “I lived on Penny Lane” guff. FFS. If one of his ‘I love the bands of the music of the Northwest’ bands had come from Leeds and written a
bleeping song about Briggate he’d have lived on Briggate while working at Beckett and they’d have been calling the police at the shock of seeing a Black man entering a house in Leeds.
Now you’ll have to excuse me. I used to live in New York, New York (so good they named it twice) and today I’m showing my A Level English teacher around my “old haunts” Battery Park, the Tenement Museum, Studio 54 and Ripley's Believe It or Not! Times Square.