Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From the boxing clubs of 1970s East London to Hollywood's red carpets—the knockout autobiography of one of Britain's best-loved actors
Ray Winstone's amazing talent for bringing out the humanity buried inside his often brutal screen characters—violent offender in Scum, wife-beater in Nil by Mouth, retired blagger in Sexy Beast—has made him one of the most charismatic actors of his generation. But how do these uncompromising and often haunting performances square with his off-duty reputation as the ultimate salt-of-the-earth diamond geezer? The answer lies in the East End of his youth. Revisiting the bomb-sites and boozers of his childhood and adolescence, Ray Winstone takes the reader on an unforgettable tour of a cockney heartland which is at once irresistibly mythic and undeniably real. Told with its author's trademark blend of brutal directness and roguish wit, Young Winstone offers a fascinating insight into the social history of East London, as well as a school of hard knocks coming-of-age story with a powerful emotional punch.
went on to win a gold medal at the Melbourne Olympics aged only eighteen, and would later be known for raising the alarm as the Black September terrorists approached the Israeli athletes’ quarters when he was coaching the South Korean team at the Munich Olympics in 1972. Apparently he gave old Spinksy a bit of a fright. This wouldn’t have come as any great surprise in the Winstone household, because boxing was what the men in our family did. My granddad had been drafted into a Scottish regiment
time you walk into a gym as a raw kid of twelve years old and see a load of grown-up fighters training, there’s something wrong with you if you don’t feel at least slightly intimidated. I remember a big boxer at that gym at the time was a black kid called Battleman Austin. I know, it’s a great name, isn’t it? More like something out of a Marvel Comic than an actual person. Luckily for me, Battleman was up in the heavier weights (he was more of an Austin Maxi than an Austin Allegro), so there was
world without having really done anything to earn the right to be there. It’s not like I’d won a scholarship for acting or gone through a gruelling audition process. My mum and dad applied on my behalf and all they had to do for me to get in was come up with �900 three times a year. I was probably a bit embarrassed about that. I knew I was now growing up to a point where I was going to have to take responsibility for how I was living, and I couldn’t rely on my mum and dad to look after me for
since. We’ve got in a few scrapes together too, over the years, but they might have to wait for volume two. In the meantime I’d still – as my old mate Bob Hoskins used to say – ‘got overheads’, and one way of dealing with them was to get a bit of work doing adverts so people could dig them up to put on TV shows and embarrass me years later. My sister Laura did a bit of modelling in her teenage years, and through her I ended up signing with a place called the Norrie Carr Agency. It was thanks to
blanket like a dog at Crufts. At another wedding with my cousin Charlie-boy (I’m in the middle, he’s on my right). Not sure who the hatless kid was . . . Cowboy-style this time in hat terms – with Laura in Nanny Rich’s garden. Early morning – the Cage with the sun rising in the east behind Christ Church, Spitalfields. Old Spitalfields Market as it was – good luck finding a sack of King Edwards in there these days. My dad looking suave on the market. Spitalfields life before the clean-up,