THE tragic melodrama of Nazi Germany has moved towards its grim climax. After trials without precedent, but exhaustively fair, some of the war criminals have been hanged; others are still to die. In the tarry-scented homeliness of an old-established tent-making works in the Old Kent Road, an elderly Londoner, Harry Moakes by name, sits spreading molten gutta-percha over the operative end of a hangman’s rope.

This firm, John Edgington’s, are the only producers of this grisly speciality. Mr. Moakes, now 61, has been working for them since he was 14: he has finished the ropes which have finished the lives of hundreds of celebrated murderers.

He is Edgington’s only practitioner of this craft and therefore presumably—astonishingly—unique in the world. He is, as the historic irony of the contrast demands, a quiet, phlegmatic little Cockney—a teetotaller and non-smoker, his only hobbies a bit of carpentry or a visit to a music-hall, resident always near his work in this much-blitzed heart of South London.

He does not regard this as a hereditary profession: none of his four children is following him in it. A hangman’s rope by Edgington’s is a nice piece of English craftsmanship. (The raw material comes from Italy.) It is not just a cut off the coil and spliced, but specially woven round the ‘thimble’ as the rigid brass ring is called which ensures a swift and easy run-through and tightening of the noose.

There are no knots. The noose itself, where it encircles the neck, is covered neatly in soft calf the kind known in the trade as white russet hide. The gutta-percha, too, is another amenity. It is a smooth coating for the only possibly abrasive part of the noose, where it joins the thimble: “musn’t ever draw blood,” is a maxim of every self-respecting hangman; “mustn’t break the skin.” At-the other end of the rope is another brass fitment, which is attached to a bolt in the beam overhead.

Once, in a much earlier generation, one of Edgington’s ropes did go wrong. Historians of the rope dispute the exact details of what happened, but it is clear that, although the hanged man died, he died more clumsily than was proper; possibly blood was drawn.

At any rate, Edgington’s were sent for. A member of the firm hurried to the prison. A door was opened to him and there, before his appalled gaze, still swung the unhandily dis-patched corpse. The poor man went back to work; but it is on record that he himself died suddenly two days later, of shock or of shame.

A rope for hanging is made to measure. It may be 9ft or 11ft long: the height and weight of the man who is to be hanged decide the drop.

The drop is invariably sharp enough to crack the gutta-percha. So the same rope comes hack again and again to Harry Moakes to be re-done. Some ropes have been coming back to him for twenty or thirty years —”very near ever since I’ve been doing ‘em,” he says. There seems, therefore, to be no truth now (though there may have been in the past) in the common legend that a hangman’s rope is used only once and is the hangman’s perquisite.

This may still be true in some Dominions and Colonies, to which Edgington’s supply ropes in considerable quantities possibly because the facilities for repairing the gutta-percha finish, and the knack of doing so, are not available outside the Old Kent Road.

Orders for these ropes come to Edgington’s from H.M. Prison Commissioners. In the case of the Belsen war criminals, Pierrepoint, the hangman, took twenty-four ropes to Germany with him: as some of the accused escaped the death-sentence, only eleven were needed. (It has been suggested that disused ropes would make quaint stair-rails for the inn in which Pierrepoint has now set up.)

The firm of John Edgington was founded in 1805. There were several brothers of the same name, all in the tent-making and kindred trades. One other, Benjamin, is still listed in the London Directory: “they’ve rather drifted,” said a member of the firm of John Edgington, with a look of faint distaste, “gone in for chauffeurs’ liveries and that kind of thing.”

The executives of Edgington’s, including the works manager, Mr. Kenneth Fun, a man full of humorous anecdote of the firm’s history, speak with proper restraint and dignity of their unique relationship to crime, and are indeed inclined to be affronted if the curious layman dwells too emphatically oh this side of their business.

Hangmen’s ropes are, after all, an infinitesimal fraction of their total output, which varies from gigantic marquees for Henley regatta to the diving apparatus used in Admiralty salvage work. (In this connection they show with just pride photographs of sunken vessels and aircraft being refloated on their inflatable pontoons.)

Two important jobs they have recently undertaken: the export to South Africa of an assortment of banners, flags and shields for the King’s Visit next year; and the decoration of a ceiling at the ‘Britain Can Make It’ exhibition at the Victoria and Alber

the year is 1994, and I get a great offer of having a large shop in a city centre for a low cost rent, how can I go wrong!!??!!

(I have mentioned this story in brief - now here is the full version.)

This is just ONE of the downfalls with my talent I was facing at this period.

There are others - one where I had an exhibition at a local craft fair
where some daft Bible basher wanted me to be removed but that's another story.

So in true paparazzi headline fashion -

THE SHOCK HORROR SHOP SHUTDOWN!!

I was offered a large ground level shop in 1994 by a mate who ran a cafe.
He said that I could put my work(T-shirts/sculpture/gore trinkets) in it but knowing what I do he would be happier
if I "BLANKED OUT" the windows so not to offend as this shop was in an arcade next to
a cafe and other so called respectable shops.

GIFTS WITH GUTS!!!

The only problem was that blacking out a place can make even more sinister and thats
exactly what happened, many who entered the place were disappointed, in that it
wasn't a SEX SHOP!!!
(And they were mainly female.....)

But it was an exciting time to get my stuff out there and see what reaction I would get!
I had an ex work mate to help me put the shop into action, I had full use of mannequins
as the place was originally a clothes shop, there were seating and tables and a staff area
and loo, great !

I had large black covers made for the windows and above "kiddie height" I was advised to
put a type of "port hole" as in on board a ship, so "adults" could see in!


Well it was good whilst it lasted, I was in between a FORBIDDEN PLANET shop (Called at that time - Another World and also another arcade full of alternative shops, so I got the passing trade from them wooo!!

I had many nice things said to me, like one chap who said he will be in here to spend his wages every week, and by the look on his face he was not kidding!!

I had music going and a great atmosphere - many could not believe it was ME who was creating the products as I still had my "Hi-Fi Shop manager" look about me then.
I did later on that week, tell some that I was just the sales man and the Artist was in the basement where I throw him a bit of raw meat from time to time....

But all things that are good, come to an end I feel...and although the shop had many signs that made it sparkling clear what was in this shop, I still had one do-gooding bastard that came in and then went out - - to complain, and I reckon it was a neighbouring shop!

It was the 8TH day that John came in the shop, looking like someone had goosed his wife, and without a word locked the door and then told me that I had to go.

He had a complaint from someone and he had too much to lose in that he had many investments in the Arcade not just on the cafe but also on this property and another cafe project in the pipeline.
he had been there many years and he did not wnat to argue or risk anything, so....
I was out!!

Many could say what the hell was the problem, and I would agree, I did nothing wrong, but I was later told that the lease on the property was for selling clothes only, but I think John just took the easiest route, and kicking me out was it!

I was trading 8 days in total.
It was the 1990's.
Things were still "retarded" in terms of what folks accepted!

It gave me my answer, in that would I be a success if I had a shop.
I did not pay any charges for rent,

The shop is still there and its been a pantie shop and a D J emporium !

I believe someone from the MAP SHOP made an official complaint against me.
I am still hunting them down, my machete is ready!

....more soon....in the next instalment of my Artistic uphill struggles but don't have nightmares, sleep well and have a nice day!