The St Pauls Carnival is a testament to how you don't really need organisation and careful planning if you get enough people together who are determined to have a good time. With big speakers. It is part competition of soundsystems to shake the foundations of the Inner City and part BBQ/fried/jerk chicken-rice&peas price-off. Oh and that most despicable of foods, ackee and saltfish (retch).
As the organisation of the wonderful event is traditionally rife with egos, mock racism, poor organisation, exodus of key members combined with a fear of all things new and inclusive, it is an annual surprise that Carnival goes on at all. Their brief programme has an introduction claiming victory over a year of 'backbiting' and adversity, which usually means people have told them they should make it better and then left when got shut out. There was nothing on for the kids this year for this reason. They just couldn't be bothered to sort something out, preferring instead to milk the public's pity for the terrible trials that they go through (when you're an insular histrionic quasi-racist over-pc tiny group of individuals), nobody loves me everybody hates me that's why I eat worms.
Anyway, like I said. It's amazing that despite all of this, we all go and still have a great time. About half the stalls have disappeared since last year, just chicken and bright furry things and whistles, oh the whistles...
Down by the Star and Garter we sit, watching the people and the occasional band, some good, some mediocre. The stone circle here seems to be where all the 'white folks' are banished to as it is a very monochromatic, albeit happy environment. I am coerced into taking a furtive photo of someone I am assured is going out with Demi Moore. He catches me and we are treated to some drunken rambling about being on the telly but are still none the wiser as to who the hell he is.
Back on the main stage, the young girls are showing off their hiphop dancing skills, there is some horrible RnB and a very touching feature by three very little girls who sing to us and have a hilarious on-stage fight to raucous cheering. I run away in search of some drum and bass loud enough to shatter my internal organs, warmed by the general goodwill that's around today and the fact that I've only seen a couple of scarey people and they're my friends.
Old Spider is still down there, and the Black and White is missing, having been finally ripped down to be replaced by some nice houses for anyone who doesn't mind living opposite the area's most notorious squatter.
Sadly though, the usual nastyness follows, doing the event's reputation no good at all.
My Photos will be available on my Flickr page very soon
