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Morely Consolidation Crew, Busting Open Churches Since 2011

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Sometimes the boundaries are there to keep us out, sometimes the boundaries are there to keep us in. Like two lizards we sit basking in the heat of our latest moment of real life, the electricity of our successes coursing through our veins like hot razor blades. There are no boundaries, only challenges, only self doubt, only self belief...Morley is calling my son, the question is, are you fucking listening?



We'd be planning to bust Morley wide open for some time, sitting on the soggy mattresses in the squat, The Reverend and I supped Red Stripe and started to formulate a plan of epic shizzleness. We'd all heard the trash talk about St. Mary's, how others had tried and achieved nothing but Grail fail, but the key to this infiltration was contemplation...on a Buddist scale. Meet the

baby, hail to the MCC, and believe me, this time it sure aint cricket.



Like the fire burning in our bellies, the fire was the key. Ever since our distant ancestors found that spark they started to burn shit up, ever since the MCC found their spark they stared to innovate, speculate and accumulate. Hearing about the fire made us realise it might just be possible.. but could we win the game of Paper, Scissors, Stone? The mythical two chose Stone, pray the man did not chose Paper. We descended into our viscous dream and the nightmare began. Stone blunts Scissors.



To live life at the very edges of expectation is to live a life of limitless freedom, to roam those rarely seen spaces is to breath the same air as Scott, Hillary, Cousteau or Gagarin. Our lungs screech as the adrenaline pumps it up like M/A/R/R/S circa 1987. Legality doesn't register with the crew, living to the epic max is the only register we will answer “Present” to.



Take it easy, but take it, because those on the margins only get one chance to exceed the expectations of the proletariat. Rising higher than the rest the MCC take on the system, like Aha take on me. It's not about the photographs, it's not about the risk, it's not about the money, it's all about the after party and the haircuts. Morely, consolidated.



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We needed to keep thangs authentic, and, when there is something there, it should be done. Churches brother. We know these spaces inside out, better than the Vicars and the Parsons and the Clergy. We are the congregation and these spaces are ours to be seen.


St Mary's in the Wood by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

And the grail was ours. Forget your champions league, or darts Tuesday night league or 2,00 leagues under the sea. This is proleague. 5 a side. With trainers. And no shin pads. No apologies. No excuses. No clue.


Fallen by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

Even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day (John Noakes 1979)


A stopped clock by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

And across the town to herald the start of Lent, the Pancake Bell would ring out - signalling the start of a half day holiday for those appretices (not Alan Sugar ones) and the others. Ringing out since 1640, this fell into the inferno beneath, tumbling down the tower, crashing through floors, clanging and ringing out across the town like the cage dropping into a mine shaft once the cables have been cut. Like all the great explorers, Columbus, Bonnington and Ben Fogle, these chance finds are for the brave to rediscover amongst the ashes of yesterday. Sadly the council had found it before us :(


Inside the tower by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

Here is what it would have looked like, had we found it and not a man in a high viz vest.


This was not just the one place. No siree. This was all about the full works. The whole shebang. The whole system. We emerged and drifted like phantoms in cagoules into the outside space.


Mausoleum by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

Being the first is always what it is about. Second place means nothing. Nobody remembers the JLS's of this world. It's all about the Steve Brookstein's. Sadly some homeless, kids, junkies and elderly people just wandering about had beaten us to this bit.


1761 by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr


Aged 1 year by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

We felt so alive here. You always do when the stakes are high. You are aware of everything. The slightest noise, the breath inside your body, the eternal worry that you might tread some mud into the new mats you have in your car.


The Lord by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

This readers, is what it is all about. The risk, the pushing of boundaries and the epicness of the glory. This readers is Morley. Consolidated. I am the Reverend. God Bless you my children. You know it.


St Lamers Consolidated Church of Rubbish by richboxfrenzy, on Flickr

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Guest ZerO81

Bloody Nice stuff guys, some great shots there.

Is the MCC an off-shoot of the SNC then?

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Bloody Nice stuff guys, some great shots there.

Is the MCC an off-shoot of the SNC then?

nope, the SNC is an off shoot of the MCC

Cuban, the MCC is always up for any collaboration, as long as we get the glory

And remember there is no need to understand

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Man you guys busted the roof right off that place, your people shot is class, I lol'd. Fucking class write up as well, straight out of the textbook, we've been skooled yo, braaaap

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Cuban, the MCC is always up for any collaboration, as long as we get the glory

Man you can get all the glory, just as long as it's my picture that ends up in the newspapers.

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