Electrical Banana, My Arse

1981 (16 YEARS OLD)3 weeks ago

In England, during the late 1970s/early 1980s, the was a multitude of youth subcultures. And a sizeable minority of teenagers, including my peers, identified with one.

There were Teddy Boys, Skinheads, Punks, Mods, Rude Boys, Greebos (Metal Heads-for Americans), Futurists, and New Romantics, each with their own style and (primary) taste in music.

But there weren’t any hippies.

Except Julian Robinson.

And Neil from The Young Ones:

Julian Robinson was the gentlest of souls. He never swore. He never raised his voice. He was the embodiment of peace, love, and harmony.

Except for that one time coming home from a party in the Grimsbury district, Banbury’s second dodgiest area after Bretch Hill, when, for some unknown reason, he decided to kick the side door panel of a parked car, many, many times.

It was like seeing Mahatma Ghandi “putting the boot in” during a pub brawl.

I’m not sure how many times he kicked it, or why. Front door lights were already coming to life, so I was too busy with the rest of the lads, running for my life.

We didn’t see him until a couple of days later. He was alright.

We never talked about the incident.

I was in the first year of the Sixth Form, studying for my A levels. And on this day, I was sitting in our Sixth-Form lounge, hanging out, just having finished a Physics class. I had nothing left to do for the day. Julian, who was studying art, and the only other person in the lounge at that time, came over and matter-of-factly asked,

“Do you want to get high?”

Up to that point, I had been drunk off of my arse a fair few times, but I’d never been high. But, like when one was a virgin, it was something one would never admit to.

“Sure, what have you got?” I asked (as if I knew the difference).

“Banana peel,” he replied.

“What?”

“Dried banana peel.”

I’m not sure how Julian found out about this. There was no internet at the time, of course. No chat rooms or Reddit. And it wouldn’t have been in popular magazines. Maybe from the library. But probably from the Donovan song he was always listening to:

We lit up in the boys toilet just off of the lounge. I’d never smoked before, and if I had at some party, I’d never inhaled.

The ensuing coughing fit would have sent chills down the spines of the medical staff at a TB sanatarium.

But it would be worth it.