Sharpies, Bodgies, Mods and others

I think Britain had Mods and Sharpies. I do not remember them being here.

Mods and Rockers.

Bodgies and the Widgies

en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bodgies_and_widg...g%20muffler%2C%20etc .

They were definitely here Morris, had a pommy mate out here who was one!
Pierre

Maybe he brought it with him. Maybe he was the only one in Aus? On second thoughts I seem to remember the British ones were Mods and Sharps, not sharpies. I think both gangs rode motor scooters and one or both of them wore heavy "Bovver" boots, all the better to kick people with.

Definitely Mods and Rockers, or in Australia Bodgies and Widgies. Coming from London it was all about the Aces Cafe, and going for the proverbial "ton up" :ohmy: which for me was centred around my local church priest who after Sunday church services would roll up his cassock and tuck it into his jeans, then put on his leather jacket and go and convert the ex Teddy Boys who still lingered on . . .

This clip is a wee bit tweed but does sum it up reasonably well:

I loved this song when I was a kid. I had absolutely no interest in motorbikes except for a WLA Harley we took to South Stradbroke Island to drive on the beach, bloody hopeless in the sand so the pommy M1 sounded exotic to me.

Brings back memories. I was a 1st year apprentice when I first heard that song. Oh to be young again and know what I know now, and have the money I have now.

Dunno where some of you blokes went to school, but early 60's in country NSW, was definitely Mods and Rockers.
Had to be in one camp or the other otherwise youd cop a clip around the ear from both!
Also had "Surfies" posing around at the time with peroxided hair, never mind that you were 500
Miles from any beach!

Brings back memories. I was a 1st year apprentice when I first heard that song. Oh to be young again and know what I know now, and have the money I have now.


Overnite, what a boring little bugger you would be, safe, sensible and rich. We would be having a great time burrowing into banks, climbing trees and cliffs, riding down Devil's Hill with no brakes on our bikes. trying to swim half a mile to the island, racing my mate in his Mum's Renault Dauphine while I was giving stick to my Mum's Triumph Herald. taking home a double brown-bagger from the dance to ensure a result. And all this knowing full well we were IMMORTAL!

Lang