There's nothing unusual about finding a shrine in Bangkok, apart from this one. Instead of the usual Buddhist gods and spirits the Tuptim Shrine (also known as the Lingam Shrine) revolves around something that some might consider quite unholy. Tucked away at the back of the Nai Lert Park Hotel, ignominiously hiding under some trees by the tradesmens' entrance the brightly coloured scarves and offerings beckon you in. In the middle there is a traditional Thai spirit house festooned with gifts and garlands. Nothing unusual there. But on closer inspection the large black pillar beside the spirit house reveals a familiar but unusual shape - a giant penis. And indeed, all around the things that look like little sticks of wood and statues are all the same - loads and loads of penises; all shapes and sizes - fat ones, thin ones, tall ones, small ones, some that even have legs and a tail.

A sign explains:

The origins of Chao Mae Tuptim are obscure. It can only be recalled that a spirit house was built by Nai Lert for the spirit who was believed to reside in the large Sai (Ficus) tree.

The basic offerings are fragrant wreaths of snow-white jasmine flowers, incense sticks, pink and white lotus buds. Chao Mae Tuptim has received yet another, rather unconventional kind of gift, phallic in shape, both small and large, stylised and highly realistic. Over the years they have been brought by the thousands and today fill the area around the shrine. Confronted by the extraordinary display the shrine has automatically been concluded to be decidated to fertility.

The sheer numbers and variety are dazzling. Even the fence around the shrine is made out of little penises all standing to attention. Although the comedy value is high for some, the variety of gifts and offerings show that it's serious to those who come to pray for a family. Bangkok has a reputation for its sexual exploits but this is a peaceful antidote to some of the more in-your-face spectacles on offer in the city.

Continue reading "Tuptim Shrine, Bangkok" »

Posted by Anne on February 25, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)

It’s certainly not unusual for buildings to be deemed a danger to public safety. Dodgy slates, subsiding walls or loose panes of glass often result in blocked pavements, stripy warning tape and cheek sucking workmen looking skywards. In the history of remedial construction however there must be precious few examples of an erection being declared unsafe due to the threat of falling penises. Yet in 1930’s London, number 429 Strand, a building dogged by controversy ever since its completion, was irrevocably altered, some would say vandalised, in the name of health and safety.

A stroll along the Strand today would most likely involve a head down battle against the tide of humanity. The street still contains some classic features, including Charing Cross Station and the Savoy hotel, but as a vehicle choked city thoroughfare, it’s not the best place in the capital to admire the view. In 1908 the scene would have been very different. Locals, spared the high doses of CO2, gathered in large crowds at what is now number 429, to view the recently completed headquarters of the British Medical Foundation. The focus of their attention was the series eighteen seven foot high nude sculptures entitled the Ages of Man which adorned the outside of the building. The nakedness of the figures enraged conservative writers of the time and the Evening Standard spearheaded a campaign against art works they considered to be morally retrograde. Father Bernhard Vaughn, a member of the National Vigilance Society raged in the paper that:

“As a Christian in a Christian City, I claim the right to say that I object most emphatically to such indecent statuary being thrust upon my view.”

While the good Father was clearly opposed to any sort of thrusting filth, the vehemence of the morally indignant he represented soon generated a wider public interest. So when the Evening Standard suggested that the statues were the sort that “…no careful father would wish his daughter, or no discriminating young man, his fiancée, to see”, Londoners flocked to the Strand eager to consume their quota of outrage.

Continue reading "429 Strand, London" »

Posted by Maurice on February 20, 2007 | Permalink

Ever since the ingenious subterranean and tree top protests of environmentalists failed to halt the extension of the A34, Newbury has become an easy place to bypass. Traffic now speeds past its western edge with a consistent urgency, but with the defeat of the anti-road campaigners in the late 90s the town lost its national notoriety as well a few hundred acres of woodland. Unless you are a horse racing enthusiast or a Vodafone employee (the town is the world HQ for the company) there is little to tempt the casual passer-by onto the streets. The place is perfectly nice while being simultaneously perfectly undistinguished. Given this ordinariness, it’s peculiar to think that just over twenty years ago this sleepy part of Berkshire was a prime target for Soviet nuclear missiles.

What prompted Kremlin military planners to consider the total obliteration of Newbury is to be found a couple of miles to the south east of the town. Greenham Common is now a vast open space full of dog walkers, ramblers and the occasional cow but in the mid 80s it housed a huge military airbase and was one the most guarded places in the UK. The security was necessitated by the decision of Maggie Thatcher’s Conservative government, to allow American Cruise missiles to be located on British soil. These weapons were designed to neutralise the threat posed by Soviet SS-20 missiles which had been deployed in the mid 70s and were perceived to have upset the precarious nuclear balance of the Cold War. The first of the ninety six bombs housed at the base, arrived in November 1983. They were stored in six enormous purpose built underground shelters. Hundreds of anti-nuclear campaigners were on hand to greet the delivery and give notice that they had no intention of leaving the base in peace.

Today nature has reclaimed much of the Common, although remnants of the old base are still visible. The control tower, which once guided in vast military transport planes, is intact, but up close appears disappointingly small. It oversees the remains of the runway which is discernable only as an unnaturally flat stretch of grass which splits the centre of the Common. Pieces of military machinery, so imbedded they must be immovable, still punctuate areas which once would have accommodated taxiing aircraft.

Continue reading "Greenham Common, Newbury" »

Posted by Maurice on February 10, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)

If you ever find yourself starting casting aspersions on the youth of today take a trip to Tam Shepherd's Trick Shop in Glasgow's Queen Street. You'll find that the youth of today are doing what they've always done - stocking up on whoopee cushions and itching powder.

Trading from the same city centre premises for over 100 years the shop is small but tightly packed with goodies. Tricks and novelties are crammed into the glass-topped counters, partially obscured by saucer-eyed children and excited adults. Wigs, masks and a selection of celebrity rubber faces are behind you. It’s not often you see Mick Jagger, Tony Blair and Maggie Thatcher all rubbing shoulders. At the far end frivolity gives over to serious magic with a range of books and videos to suit the Sunday party-piece and the dedicated pro.

Tam Shepherd’s has been entertaining kids, big and small, since the late 1800’s making it one of the oldest joke shops in the country, second only to Davenports in London. When Tam Shepherd (he really did exist) died, Lewis Davenport, who was a magician appearing at the Glasgow Empire, bought the shop from Tam's widow. The business is now owned by his grand-daughter Jean, who runs the shop with her husband Roy Walton, a world famous card magician, and their daughters.

The family run the place with a deadpan laissez-faire attitude. Requests for rubber biscuits and fake dog turds are actioned discretely. Advice on the best moustache for a comedy Frenchman is expertly dispensed. Occasionally exciting trinkets are unearthed from mysterious boxes under the counter. They have the air of people who have seen it all – no request too strange.

Continue reading "Tam Shepherd's Trick Shop, Glasgow" »

Posted by Anne on February 02, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)