WE Ask the Questions, Tommy...

Their powers of investigation knew no bounds. They answered to no-one. All people fell under their jurisdiction & none could escape the wrath of their judgement. Their eyes and ears were everywhere & their network of informers missed nothing. The relentless vigour with which they pursued their enquires made the KGB look like a pre-school playgroup. Once they had identified a suspect, they never let go until they’d built their case and brought in their man.

Strong men lay awake at night, trembling in anticipation of the knock on the door & the summons to appear before the table of judgement.

I speak, of course, of the feared R.W.C. – the Ruskin Women’s Committee.

It took a brave man to risk incurring their wrath. I know of only one who did so & emerged unscathed.

A certain comrade of the male persuasion was caught extracting a free packet of condoms from a vending machine – in the women’s toilet. Not only was he caught, but the person doing the catching was a Leading Inquisitor in the R.W.C. And yet, by relying on & deploying his charm & charisma, he escaped with only a verbal warning. Any other male comrade would have been lynched. I witnessed part of the incident. It was like watching a lamb walk unscathed through a cage full of lions.

Who was this hero? Answers verbally, please, at the reunion. A pint on me to the first person to approach me, on the day, with the name of the fortunate miscreant.

I cannot end this post without referring to that almost legendary, secret, underground society, The Feet on the Ground Club, who used to hold clandestine meetings in the TV lounge at Walton Street. There, they would perform arcane rituals guaranteed to outrage the R.W.C.: watching football, drinking ale & telling blue jokes.

The R.W.C. caught a few low-ranking activists, but never succeeded in stamping out the group. Nor could they capture - or even identify - the ringleaders. It is only the passing of twenty years which allows me to reveal that the "Prisoner Cell Block H Viewers Society" was, in fact, a front for this clandestine organisation.

I cannot confirm or deny that "M", the shadowy head of the Feet on the Ground Club, was Jack Eames.

Avanti!