Quite an interesting blog by former members of Celtic's football firm, the Celtic Soccer Crew. The below piece may be of interest to readers of this thread as one of their members recalls the time he participated in and was later imprisoned for taking part in the Welling riots.
CSC 1993 Welling riots
Going with our CSC articles, Holywell Street caught up with one of our finest lads, passionate in every department. He’s certainly old skool and with a colourful past. I first met Stef around the 1985/86 season at Tynecastle. From baby crew to front-line.
Here he chats of a day when Celtic went on a famous anti Fascism demo.
Stef:
As I sit here and try to recall my time as a casual, as a proud member of the Celtic Soccer Crew, I struggle with age, the odd concussion and the reality that my time as one of the crew is muddied by the fact that I was an addict in fully fledged addiction for most of it. In actual fact the anticipation that came along with being part of a mob and having so many men and women at my back was the biggest high for a long time but, like all other highs, it eventually ran its course and stopped offering the freedom from self that it once gave me. Still, I look at the early eighties and the many names that came and went from my life, with fondness and a deep nostalgia that lingers even still, as I near the half century mark.
There are most certainly many Celtic bhoys in my thoughts who have died for one reason or another; many from the very same addiction I found respite from but, there are also a few of the mortal enemy; the huns; the ICF, who have died and who played a part in making the man who sits here writing this essay. I feel sad as I write but, nostalgia does that; it is an odd feeling filled with good memories and sad ones. I’ve discovered in this age of social media that nostalgia has its place and that it is important.
Anyway, on to what I can remember about 1993 and the Welling Unity Demonstration that led to me being sentenced to two years at Maidstone Crown Court. I was charged with riot, which was the worst of the charges on offer to all those arrested; disorderly conduct being the least of the three and affray coming in second. As it transpired the whole event was orchestrated by the authorities to push the criminal justice bill/act through parliament. Myself and the rest of the crew that went down were willing pawns in their game. I remember when we got there that I commented to my old friend E.F, (whom, I would dearly love to have contact with again), who was our liaison with the Anti-Fascist League organisers, that we were being set up by them also. If it kicks off, we will be there at the front and will likely be used as scapegoats for any trouble that ensues. For the sake of clarity here, I followed that assertion with, “don’t get me wrong E.F, I don’t care if we are being used but, lets not kid ourselves.
I remember there was a nominal fee of three pounds for the bus to London from Glasgow, it really was a no-brainer for us that went. I sat with Gary S if I remember correctly and I did heroin and ecstacy on the way there. My next real memories are of the boys raiding Lacoste in London; I missed out because I was either behind or in front of them. We also had a little run in with Millwall at Kings Cross station, or was it Euston station? They were getting a little mouthy at first, they thought we were Spurs and really did not wanna know when they found out who we were.
My next memory is us walking up the road towards the intersection where the riot started and ended; anticipation building as we had no idea what to expect. There were professional rioters all around us. Three years before this demo, the Poll tax riots had happened and there were the same folks who had been rioting at that demo at the Welling demonstration. This I later discovered because a couple of my co-accused where at both days.
At the end of the road we came to the intersection where the riot cops were awaiting our arrival. This was where I got excited; remember I’m there to represent the Crew, we don’t like fascists, yeah but, I’m a 24 year old addict who is so self-obsessed and riddled with low self-worth I was going to make it about me making me feel better and hopefully raising the profile a bit of the CSC at the same time.
When we reached the section that the cops where never going to let us past, the organisers of the march started asking everyone to link arms and get ready to sit in and refuse to move. I looked around and saw that on the roof of a garage of a nearby house there was a large camera; a television camera I thought. So, I wriggled free of the interlocked arms that held me and jumped out into the 8 or 10 feet of no-mans land between us and the bizzies and screamed Celtic Soccer Crew on tour ya Bastards!!!!! I was the first to break ranks and it all kicked off right at that moment. A funny aside here; as I screamed, my false teeth flew from my mouth and landed at the feet of a riot cop in front of me. I stopped and looked down at the same time as the copper looked down; we looked up at each other and I hesitated for a minute, weighing up my options. The chance of club on the back of my skull was all too real but, I thought ‘fuck it’ and I reached down and grabbed them without being rendered unconscious by the copper. They spent the next few hours snuggled in my pocket for safe keeping. Incidentally, this is far from the only time that my wallies went airborne when I was screaming at someone. I fought through legs in the jungle at Celtic Park a few times, to retrieve them.
Anyway, from there on in, it is a bit of blur; the bizzies charging us, bricks being thrown from the church wall that was destroyed by fellow rioters. Fellow Crew members would come in and out of view at varying times but, to be honest I think most of them did not partake in the riot as much as I did. I was mask free and hell bent on creating some infamy for myself and the Crew. Ed later told me that I was the one that kicked it all off and in my skewed, less than mature thinking of the time, I was so happy with this. I did get trampled at one point by riot cops and I thought “shit, this is it, this is where I get arrested” but, they just ran right over the top of me and I was able to get up and get away again. This incident is actually recorded on YouTube, if you look for Welling riot. I had a dark green jacket on and a red Lacoste hat.
The riot went on until it fizzled out; myself and young Kevin Mc, made our way back to the buses. We barely made it back home. The bus we had come on had left and we ran and stopped another that luckily for us was heading to Glasgow. We got home late and I crashed out at home. Still at my parents house in Provanmill. I awoke the next morning and the first thing my dad said was “there’s the TV star” I asked him, “did you tape it, did you tape it?”. Sure enough he had recorded me on the news the evening before. I watched it and carried that VHS tape with me for weeks afterwards, I was so proud of myself. When I walked along the street that day, the neighbours; little old ladies and the rest where yelling at me “you fucking hooligan Kelly” and the like. I loved it; the infamy and 15 minutes of glory that I sought to fill the void inside me, I had it. It transpired that my picture was in newspapers all over England, less so in Scotland but, my brother in law, who is a Manc, called and let me know he had been heading to work the on the bus, the day after the riot and saw my picture in the Mirror or Sun or whatever tabloid he was reading.
As time went on, I moved further into my addiction and forgot all about my fifteen minutes of notoriety. My days spent thieving and looking for ways and means to get drugs. Going to the odd game with the bhoys and always being supported by them. I probably did some time in the months that followed, as was the pattern of my life, until one morning, about 8 months after the riot, I’m awakened by 4 CID in my bedroom. Two from Stewart Street and two from Scotland Yard; one of the guys from Scotland Yard said “you know what this is about Steven” and I replied “yep, you took your time”. I was flown back to London and taking to Bexley Heath cop shop to appear at Bexley Heath magistrates the next day. I was granted bail and went home. I went back and forward a couple of times and finally thought ‘fuck it’, if they want me they can come and get me again. I stopped appearing at court and was on the run with an arrest warrant out for me. I got picked up for shop-lifting somewhere and was laying in London Road cop shop. The screws there were pretty sure that the cops from London would not come up for me, as they rarely did for warrants in Scotland. I knew better and told them that. Sure enough, they came back and said that coppers from London where on their way up to get me. I was taken back down and remanded to Elmley nick on the Isle of Sheppy in Kent. Where I spent three months on remand before pleading guilty and getting sentenced to a deuce; with a third off because I had pleaded guilty at my earliest opportunity. It was reduced to 16 months and I did another 5 months on top of the three months I’d already done. I’ll never forget seeing the bhoys jumping around in the road in Maidstone when I went to court for trial. My heart felt full and I was proud of them for showing up. It was a treat.
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