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Luke Haines Pens Cookbook
Christian Eede , April 7th, 2015 11:29

Cookbook written by Luke Haines, funded through Indiegogo, to feature a forward by Steve Albini; read an exclusive recipe below

A few years ago, Luke Haines started writing recipes on his very own ‘Outsider Music Blog’, as he says, “after 3 Martinis of a Friday night”. Now, he has launched a fundraiser, via Indiegogo, for a full cookbook, entitled Outsider Food And Righteous Rock And Roll and you can read an exclusive recipe from Mr Haines himself, entitled Jimmy Pursey’s Interpretive Dance Corn Beef Hash, at the foot of this piece.

Haines describes it as a “fully functional recipe book…but more than that; a lifestyle choice”. The cookbook will feature a forward written by Steve Albini and the first edition will be limited to 500 copies, each of them individually numbered.

To contribute to the funding of the book and find out more information, head here. Certain levels of funding also come with various perks from Haines ranging from a signed copy of the book to an “original bespoke song especially for you”.

Jimmy Pursey's Interpretive Dance Corn Beef Hash

You will need:

  • Tin of corned beef (must be Princes)
  • 2x Potatoes
  • 1 large onion
  • 1 clove garlic
  • Beef stock
  • Worcester sauce
  • Chilli sauce/Tabasco/chillies (optional)
  • Gherkins (optional)
  • Pepper
  • Jimmy Pursey

In a turn of events only rivalled in strangeness by that time when a member of The Fall group became the host of the Radio 1 Breakfast Show, history has chosen to repeat itself. Jimmy Pursey, leader of Sham 69, Spokesman For The Kids (1978), and notorious interpretive dancer has now been given the hot spot on the Nation's Favourite. Yes. Sir Jimmy is to become the new presenter of the Radio One Breakfast Show. This is all very well, you think, as you sit in your own effluence, heroin scourging through your tiny veins, like rocket beans. But what in the name of Stinky Turner's 1000 hole oxblood DM's has this got to do with me?

You dear friend, dear Kurtz of the Kitchenette, has been summoned by James Harold Minkubus Pursey to soothe his brow, to make him feel better, to assure the hard man of the Surrey streets that he is not a 'sell out.' And to stop him crying.

You set off, carrier bag of ingredients (from your local Costcutter/Lidl/budget supermarket) in your nervous handy pandies. You are heading to Jim's 'drum,' in the post-apocalyptic wasteland of Cobham, Surrey. Near London's notorious East End. On no account stray off the main road, and whatever happens do not follow the signs that point to 'Farmers Market.' A Place where hard cockneys bareknuckle fight each other for the honour of paying 60 sovs for a very ugly fish. And funny coloured vegetables.

Ding ding, bing bong. Floong, Brrrp. Ringy ring. You arrive at Jimmy Pursey's 'gaffe.' And that nonsense at the beginning of the paragraph was the sound of his front door bell. Micky Geggus from The Cockney Rejects answers the door wearing a West Ham shirt. He's got his younger brother Stinky Turner in a 'headlock.' Stinky croaks “You cahhnt”, at you and his brother Mickey says something about “Old Bill”. Then he head-butts you. Oh dear.

You regain consciousness in Jimmy Pursey's hi spec but working class kitchen. In the next room you can hear the voices of various skin groups. Cock Sparrer, Peter And The Test Tube Babies, the excellently name Four Skins, Max Splodge, and of course The Rejects. “Caahnt”, they say. “Old Bill”, they say. In comes the man himself; Jimmy Arthur William Sultan Pursey. With tears in his eyes. He is of course upset about some bollocks to do with “Betraying The Kids”. Your job is to cook him something. Something working class. Something tasty pasty. Something to remind him of his roots in the working class estates of Surrey in London’s notorious East End. Something that will get him through his first morning presenting The Radio 1 Radio One Breakfast Show on Radio One at breakfast.

Corn Beef Hash. This is what you're fucking making. Pwoper food that will remind Jimmy Pursey of his muvver. And Gary Bushell. Tins of corned beef, on their lonesome self are of course disgusting. But hashed up this is one gut busting bootboy bonehead of a meal. Or, as Max Splodge may (or may not) say – “A luverly bit of scran.”


Make some beef stock (you can use one of those beef stock pot things that the hard nut chef advertises but obviously wouldn't use). Cube a couple of potatoes using a sharp knife or a rubber glove (whichever works best). Now start 'browning off' the little potato cubes in a pan for a few minutes. Then add enough beef stock to just about cover the potatoes. Leaving just the tiny potato 'heads' poking above the surface. They whisper lies about your family, the potatoes. Listen to them... Now chop up a large onion and a clove of garlic and start frying in another pan. You can fry the onion slowly until it is golden brown. Once the potatoes have cooked add them to the golden onions. You are now ready to open your tin of corn beef. Princes is the only brand to consider. Various posh arseholes like Giles Coren will tell you to make your own corn beef, but this is time consuming. And you (and Jimmy Pursey) probably don't a have a Fillipino maid/aupair who you can order to ‘soak the beef overnight’.

Add the beef to the potatoes and onions. Add pepper, worcester sauce, a dollop of mustard, tabasco and chop up some gherkins to garnish. You are now ready to ruck.

Actually, you're not quite ready to ruck. Leave the corn beef hash to simmer and open a Watneys Party Seven. It's time to consider Sham's long-forgotten 1978 masterpiece, 'That's Life’. Punk's only true concept album. It's a very un-psychedelic record; a the day in the life of a 'working class kid' (Jimmy Pursey) growing up in Hersham, Surrey, in the heart of London's notorious West End. Nothing much happens. Jimmy's alarm fails to go off. He goes into work late. He goes down the pub, with Harry, he pulls a bird, he gets into a fight. Sham of course were sneakily a really fucking great band. So great in fact that the thicko right-wing skinhead contingent saw Sham's 'unite' message as a threat to their own racist nitwittery. The thickies took to turning Sham gigs into violent stand-offs. This was pretty much the end of Sham... Rather sad.

“Stop fucking moping you caahnt”, yells Gary Hodges from the excellently named Four Skins into your ear, as he gives you a dead arm. “Jim's facking well 'ungry you caahnt”. Awlright. Plate. The. Fuck. Up. Or. Plate. The. Ruck. Up. Hahahahahahahahahahahahah. Er. Scoop the corn beef hash out of the pan, plonk it on a plate and give it to Jimmy Pursey. Jimmy, teary eyed as ever, looks at the plate, does a comedy thing with his funny bushy eyebrows and takes a mouthful. It's working, it's taking him back, back to his working class roots, etc. The Herbert Spokesman of 1978 chows down his food quickly, once again full of vim, and generational spokes-person-ness. “Hold on you caahnt”, says Jimmy, “I wanna show you something.”

You've done it. You've stopped Jimmy Pursey crying and you've saved the Radio One Breakfast Show on Radio One. Jim comes back into the room. He starts doing stretching exercises, and doing expressive stuff with his hands. He puts on a tape of long forgotten experimentalist 23 Skidoo. You notice that he's wearing a leotard. The singer of Sham 69 takes a sub balletic leap. Your food has taken him back to his roots alright – back to his terrible dabbling with interpretive dance. You fucking caahnt.