Estremità della Campana | Phase One | The Ruin

Ever bitten off more brick than you can chew?


Ciao, Ca’ Selwyn.

Smouldering Venetian sibling to big brother Bell End, her hand-dipped genealogy evidenced by her name: Estremità della Campana. She squats daintily two-thirds of the way down Calle Degolin, sneaking a girlish pee in the shadows. The calle is itself a capillary of Calle Lunga San Barnaba which connects the traghetto at San Samuele with Veronese’s church at San Sebastiano. Long referred to by locals as Passaggio Posteriore della Vecchia Suora (The Old Nun’s Back Passage), it was perhaps a short cut for the Holy Sisters between Chiesa di San Barnaba and the convent at Santa Maria dei Carmini? Or the murky setting for vestal encounters of a non-progenitive nature, all under the cover of a crusty wimple? The extremities of these antique thoroughfares dribble on across Dorsoduro to the very steps of San Nicolò dei Mendicoli, where in 1973 Donald Sutherland dangled from the the frescoes dreaming of Julie Christie’s tits and dwarves.

Over the course of a chilly January, every fleck of plaster and lath from every wall and ceiling was burnt and purged away. Every toilet bowl, tile, rusty boiler, stove, fridge, wardrobe, sink, faucet, fitting, pipe, pole, plug and plunger torn from its socket, hand carted down the alleyway to a waiting boat on Rio del Malpaga. Thence a thicket of waterways, the Giudecca Canal and on, on, me hearties, all the way to mainland Italy.

And now he sits, Selwyn, like Jonah in the belly of the whale. Munching frittelle alla crema from Tonolo, swigging from the Campari bottle and singing all four parts of the quartet from Rigoletto. On his own, yearning, yearning, with a heart full of shards and old Kleenex. Same old shit.


January 27, 2015  • Posted in Announcements, Reflections  •  Tagged with: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  •  Leave a comment

Bucharest to Timisoara by Visual Tapestry

Seeking 60’s Romanian editions of world classics with which to decorate the putative shelves of Estremita della Campana, Selwyn decided, on a whim, to board the Bucharest to Budapest Express, following the graceful undulations of the Danube, the succubic peaks of the Transylvanian Alps. As far as Timişoara, at least.

Nine hours, it turned out, with nary a drop of water nor nibble of repast. Outrun by fat, stick-burdened peasants who might have graced the cover of Led Zeppelin’s seminal fourth album, and feral dogs munching used diapers. But plenty of time to gaze out of the window and see …


January 16, 2015  • Posted in Reflections  •  Tagged with: , , , , , , ,  •  Leave a comment

Peels of Fury – Clinton Hill Pizza Insanity

What in the crusty cassock of Pope Boniface IX is going on? Just saw Gothamist’s Top 18 Pizza Restaurants in New York and three of the eighteen are within skipping distance of Bell End’s stable doors. And a fourth gets an honorable mention – our belovéd Franny’s. What has the world come to when Franny’s is reduced to an also-ran and Saraghina doesn’t get even a squeak? Is Clinton Hill the new Napoli? I hope not, because a rat once ran over my shoe outside the front door of Brandi, the putative birthplace of pizza margherita. Apparently when people arrive in New York the second thing they want to do (after exposing themselves on the C train) is eat pizza. Well, Bell End facilitates both. The Clinton-Washington stop is just round the corner; then zip up, light a cigarette, you’ll be stubbing it out just as you add your name to the interminable waiting-list at any of the following (words courtesy of Gothamist):


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Newcomer Emily opened in Clinton Hill just this past January, but it’s already more than earned a place on this list. Chef Matt Hyland – who runs the restaurant with wife Emily (get it?) – whips up spectacular thin-crust pies in a wood-fired oven, with outstanding offerings including the $19 namesake pizza made with mozzarella, pistachios, truffle sottocenere and honey. The Colony ($17) is another worthy pie—made with red sauce and mozzarella and topped with pepperoni, pickled chili and honey—as is the carnivore-friendly pepperoni, sausage and ham-topped RM3! ($19). Prices are steep here if you go beyond the basics (some of the plainer pies run $14-and-under), but the pizza’s made so lovingly you can taste it. Save room for dessert—the Hylands make a killer marshmallow and chocolate S’Mores calzone ($10).

Emily is located at 919 Fulton Street between Waverly and Clinton Avenues in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn (347-844-9588,


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It’s hard to award points to a pizza style from a flyover state, but fine, we’ll give Speedy Romeo’s delectable Saint Louie ($16) its due. The St. Louis-style pie comes on a cracker-thin, yeast-free crust, topped with Italian sausage, pepperoni and picked chilis, along with Provel cheese sourced straight from Missouri. Speedy Romeo has non-Midwestern pizza types on tap too, of course, (The Kind Brother is a must-have) but this pie is so good it may settle the “NYC Pizza Is The Only Pizza” debate once and for all. Don’t worry, pizza still sucks in Los Angeles.

Speedy Romeo is located at 376 Classon Ave between Greene and Lafayette Ave in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn (718-230-0061,


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Pizza expert Adam Kuban has set out to bring the bar pie into the pantheon of NYC’s great pizza varieties with his pop-up pie shop Margot. Like Lee’s Tavern, Kuban bakes up crisp crusted pies unadorned with toppings beyond sauce and cheese or fully loaded like his Love Supreme, with chunks of seasoned sausage, thinly shaved red onion and finely chopped bits of bell pepper. Shroomheads should absolutely seek out the Funghitown, with a scattering of mushrooms and some truffled sottoecenere cheese. Kuban operates his pop-up inside Clinton Hill’s Emily for now; catch him while you can. (Nell Casey)

Margot is a pop-up held intermittently at Emily: 919 Fulton Street between Waverly and Clinton Avenues in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn (347-844-9588,

September 18, 2014  • Posted in Announcements  •  Tagged with: , , , , , , , , ,  •  Leave a comment

Elle Decor Korea – Kissing the Rosetta Stone

Three weeks with our nose to the grindstone of language learning software and we think we’ve cracked it. Elle Decor Korea’s piece on Bell End.  See below.


Life Differently 1!

Got changed in a multi-stall environment!

Home life is different if he is different. Here, in the space of his house he break away from the typical story of his own.  Six different genders he introduce to the lifestyle.

JULIAN RICHARDS stables converted in a multi-space.

Photographer Agent him, New York

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His entrance is wide open, the way his people are going to come to look at his Bell End. Panoramic living room. His tops are made ​​of wood taken from bowling alley in business no chance.

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Decoration refrain as much as possible making him unified, modern bedroom concept. All bedding is Ignorance.

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I recently moved to his lodge, second in country. Awful child, pully hair and noise maker. Not in Korea would tell ‘shut rude face’ stab with fork. Bell End for photographer agent Julian Richards and only sex.

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Things from every day seen in the more special because of his vintage wood has been used a lot and a bit worn out. Reminiscent of the shape and height of the window stall is Julian ‘s idea.

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Three bedrooms with stairs that float to the second floor without exception, even hanging children.

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Kitchen just another brick wall with white paint to paint otherwise feel my jellybean trembling.

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Nearly 4 metre long dining room and kitchen, he is flaming and open. Place is perfect for hoopla.

As agents in photographer Julian Richards is big Bell End, born two-and-a-half years ago with friends (Bell End). Real estate at the time of the suggestion was with a friend who was doing any number of photographers. Can be used for many purposes and create a space. “In the past, where the stables used because I got old and dirty. Garage doors are very large differences in the use, or completely abandoned, but not dogging. We’re here to New York and visit the agency converted into series of parties and events belong to artists, gallery show, I created a naughty space for progress. ” Julian is the most focused part of the building.  Have a unique story to maximize space atmosphere that was optimized for dirty party, his passage was wide and open. “Usually the gate is my entrance and the Bell End have several visits inside, but when you open it up that brings out the pedestrians are walking around India.  If you leave my entrance hanging open in the summer people would blindly come home and poke about. Take photos of the hole and inside. What they think it takes, I guess.” All of a sudden the house is located, the port is green and ‘second Williamsburg’ is called as The Bell End. Every visit it emerged as Brooklyn. These days, young people gather around it very often, try the handles than what transformed the space into living and attracted the attention of people because of the history. Stall doors that open on both sides is reminiscent of a large number of bets through a tiny window. That’s Julian‘s idea. “All the nice girls melted into one, I think that is the most attractive area. To show off my big personality and space character in a geological way (if you want to talk).” Scratch marks in the left side of his entrance go to the first floor, a table appears in the room with a leather sofa set, dining table on the other side of yen whopping. 4 metres in length and bench, island cooking, open fireplace, decorated party room is perfect for a monkey affair. Huge. Then dining table is removed, the building was renovated and there go all the old woodentops. Up to the second floor for you and a three bedroom experience. Each has a hand job, Tivoli Audio, minimalist modern concept of light and ignorance as to the unity of bedding him.  Upstate New York have a villa Julian has also played with a restaurant there and his bell end of that second house was just a long table full of regret. Fell in love, but not a bell end into the melted part of the story. Because it was already his.

May 28, 2014  • Posted in Announcements, Reflections  •  Tagged with:  •  Leave a comment

… And We Thought it was Moisturizer

I know we called it Bell End but that wasn’t meant as an invitation.

May 5, 2014  • Posted in Reflections  •  Leave a comment

Baker Street Station Buffet

Early Electric! With what radiant hope
Men formed this many-branched electrolier,
Twisted the flex around the iron rope
And let the dazzling vacuum globes hang clear,
And then with hearts the rich contrivance fill’d
Of copper, beaten by the Bromsgrove Guild.

Early Electric! Sit you down and see,
‘Mid this fine woodwork and a smell of dinner,
A stained-glass windmill and a pot of tea,
And sepia views of leafy lanes in Pinner –
Then visualize, far down the shining lines,
Your parents’ homestead set in murmuring pines.

Smoothly from Harrow, passing Preston Road,
They saw the last green fields and misty sky,
At Neasden watched a workmen’s train unload,
And, with the morning villas sliding by,
They felt so sure on their electric trip
That Youth and Progress were in partnership.

And all that day in murky London Wall
The thought of Ruislip kept him warm inside;
At Farringdon that lunch hour at a stall
He bought a dozen plants of London Pride;
While she, in arc-lit Oxford Street adrift,
Soared through the sales by safe hydraulic lift.

Early Electric! Maybe even here
They met that evening at six-fifteen
Beneath the hearts of this electrolier
And caught the first non-stop to Willesden Green,
Then out and on, through rural Rayner’s Lane
To autumn-scented Middlesex again.

Cancer has killed him. Heart is killing her.
The trees are down. An Odeon flashes fire
Where stood their villa by the murmuring fir
When ” they would for their children’s good conspire. ”
Of their loves and hopes on hurrying feet
Thou art the worn memorial, Baker Street.


May 3, 2014  • Posted in Announcements  •  Tagged with:  •  Leave a comment

Stinging Nettle Soup – The Revenge of Four Eyes

For skinny boys with big teeth and Joe 90 specs, danger lurks in every crevice.

When, at age 11, your antecedents pack you off to a boys-only, military boarding school, perched atop the tempest-scorched White Cliffs of Dover, unmanaged by gerontic pederasts and indifferent sociopaths … well, life instantly blossoms into a spastic sprint across a minefield under heavy fire carrying giant balloons of urine dressed as the mascot from El Pollo Loco. The odds of ending up head-first down a prewar toilet with one’s underpants round one’s ankles are about the same as having one’s breakfast sausage taken hostage, rubbed up-and-down some boy’s ass-crack then returned to one’s blazer pocket with the portentous warning that it should be consumed right here, right now, in front of everybody, unless one wants to end up head-first down a prewar toilet with one’s underpants … etc.. Year-in, year-out, across eternity; an infrangible Möbius strip of leering, juvenile savagery.

These are the fables Selwyn Lovely regales us with as he cackles over his steaming cauldron at Table on Ten every Thursday.

Four-Eyes, Specky. 1st Form, Kitchener House

Expunged from Dante’s Inferno at age 18, Specky Four-Eyes is fated to spend the rest of his life wandering the desert of low-grade post-traumatic stress syndrome, flinching at burly men being boisterous in public spaces, avoiding lavatories and breakfast sausages. Given this pathology, it is unsurprising that when Nettle Soup was mooted at a Tuesday ‘what to foist on the public’ huddle, the following exchange was witnessed:

Dutchy : Eh, what’s about Nettle Soup?
Lovely : (one eye twitching) You don’t mean … stinging nettles … right?
Dutchy : Eh? Yes, yes, stinging nettles, they’re in season right now, Katrin’s mom have whole bushes up at Valley View … eh, you okay?
Lovely : (gripping the slop sink with white knuckles) Whole bushes … of … stinging nettles?
Dutchy : Yeah, once of a sudden they are everywhere. I can made nettle pesto too, for special pizza, eh!

But Selwyn’s eyes had fogged over, he was no longer hearing the lilting shh’d s’s, as he vortexed backward down the time-tunnel of his past; to Andy (Bagger) Bowers behind the cricket pavilion after third-form Latin:

Bagger : Three Benson & Hedges after chapel tomorrow or you’re going in the stinging nettles.
Four-Eyes : But Bagger …
Bagger : Don’t ‘but Bagger’ me, you four-eyed cunt. Three Bensons or the stingers. And no trousers n’all.
Four-Eyes : But I don’t smoke …
Bagger : No underpants neither. By the end of Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer. Three. Bensons. Or you’re going to be scratching your knackers with a cheese-grater for a fortnight …

Oh. Those burgeoning, raggéd bushes-upon-bushes of horrid, bottle-green angiosperms. Vast oceans of them, obscene in their fecundity, their awful urchin abundance. With their bristly stalks and hairy leaves, evilly fringed by pinking shears like the snarky mouths of halloween lanterns.  And the fiery plains of white, weeping bumps on one’s buttocks and, oh, the itching, itching, itching …


STINGING NETTLE SOUP (with a nod to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, who looks the kind of boy who might have ended up stuffed in a gym cupboard amongst the medicine-balls with a stalk of stinging nettles protruding from his urethra). Or ~ an opportunity to wreak pyrrhic revenge upon life, by hacking, ripping, scalding, boiling, liquidizing and ultimately eating one’s childhood enemies.

Nettle Soup. You complete bastards

A moment’s food-for-thought: on the sage advice of Catskills foragers, nettles harvested for fresh use (as opposed to being dried for future use) should be picked young, ie before the plants flower. After that they undergo chemical changes which can lead to stomach complaints in people not blessed with dreadnought intestines.

2 full Price Chopper bags of wild stinging nettles – go for young, green growth and for fuck’s sake wear gloves
3 yellow onions, chopped
6 small leeks, washed, chopped into thin roundels
4 sticks of celery, chopped
4 or 5 cloves of garlic, sliced fine
6 tablespoons white long-grain rice
3 litres good (maybe home-made) chicken or vegetable stock
fresh thyme, fine
a little fresh tarragon, fine
plain yoghurt to finish
chives or parsley to garnish

Keeping the gloves on, pluck the nettles and top buds and discard the central stalks. Sluice off the dirt and bugs. Melt the butter, sweat the onions, leeks, celery and garlic together until soft (15 minutes). Add the stock, then the rice.  Bring to a low boil then simmer for 10-15 minutes. Stir in the nettles, thyme and tarragon … it’s going to look like a lot, but nettles wilt theatrically, like spinach, and end up coiled like a dense rope in the broth.  Simmer for 5-10 minutes.  Season well with salt and cracked black pepper. Cool, blend to smooth, carefully reheat, add large dollup of yogurt and a few chives or thin chopped parsley. Serve with hearty, ripped bread.

Revenge, whilst not exactly sweet, is wonderfully robust, green, spinachy and earthy with a unique nettly tang.

January 28, 2014  • Posted in Reflections  •  Tagged with: , , , , , , , , , , ,  •  1 Comment