The Guv'nor

Lenny McLean was the toughest man in Britain.

He was a very dangerous man.

If you can imagine a pot of boiling water

and it's always simmering, it's ready to boil.

The film you are about to see shows an incredibly violent fight,

which, for some at least, is entertaining.

I've heard stories that he would go up the Camden Palace

and challenge black belts in this and that

and he just goes out and just knocks them completely spark out.

He is like a dog, he either gets bitten and rolls over and dies,

or he is going to come back and bite you.

Lenny was the man who came back and bit you and bit you hard.

If you're losing your temper, you're capable of doing anything,

you're capable of murder really.

There is a lot of negative stuff said about him.

If you never met him you would have a certain way you would think about him

and the main mission with the film would be to let people know

that there's a different side to my dad

that you probably ain't read or seen on YouTube.

I mean, he was extremely, extremely funny, quick-witted one-liners,

you know, and you would probably take an instant like to him.

The physical abuse and the drinking turned him into a monster really.

But I think there is something more than just the abuse and the alcohol.

I think there's something deeper, I think there's something that we've not touched on.

- Charlie? - Yeah?

Probably I've boxed as an amateur and done some amateur fights when I was a kid

and I do box and I do love going to the boxing gym and training, but fight...

Not really, I don't think it really was... I didn't really...

I like fight, I like sparring, I like doing the competitive side of it, but fighting, no.

I've got a temper. If someone upsets me, I've got a slightly bad temper, yeah,

and I had a problem last year and I went to prison for having a fight with somebody

and I was charged with GBH Section 18.

In the end, I pleaded guilty to a lesser charge of ABH,

but I still went to prison for it.

Going to prison was an eye-opener. I definitely don't want to go back there.

So I need to know the truth why my dad become such a violent person.

I mean, you've taken a lot of punishment you've dished it out.

What's the worst thing you've ever done to anyone?

Er, in one of the bare knuckle fights, I bit a guy's nose off.

Probably the first time I see something like that

was down when we had the caravan.

All the kids down the caravan used to drive on these like little motorbikes,

scramblers, rev-and-gos, and I used to let all the kids go on my one

and one day a girl came out, and she was a little bit older than us,

I was about eight or nine and she was about 15 and she wanted to go on my bike

and I said, "Look, you've got to wait your turn."

Anyway, she's pushed me off the bike and tried to get on the bike

and me and her started to have like a set to, like, a fight.

Her dad come out the caravan and tried to hit me

and said, "You want a fight, you fight me."

Dad's come out the caravan and said, "No, if you want a fight, you fight me,"

and then me old man just sort of let go, I've never seen anything like it.

Absolutely just annihilated the geezer, just smashed him absolutely to pieces.

And the whole place was just silent.

And as he stood up, and the man was unconscious on the floor,

and he stared at me and pointed a finger at me and said, "See what you have done now,"

and I was sort of frightened to get told off and he said,

"Your tea's cold," and walked indoors like there's nothing had happened.

It just sort of was just like a normal day of someone going to work

in the post office or a builder and it was, it didn't affect him.

And after that, he just went in the caravan and shut the door

and that was the end of that.

Growing up in post-war Britain in the late '40s, early '50s,

there was nothing about, no money.

In the East End, the doors was open, kids running around outside.

I know you don't see a lot of it now, but there used to be stray dogs running around,

food where they have been pregnant

and people throwing buckets of water over them,

you know, if someone knocks on your door for sugar or milk or, you know,

you would give it to them.

Look, mate, you're on camera. You're on camera, they're filming you.

Oh, right.

What have you done wrong?

Everything.

Playing on dumps, bomb sites, burnt-out buildings,

you know, that's what you used to do.

I suppose everything seemed happy at the time,

but no one really knew what was going on behind closed doors.

No. Well, uh...

Right.

This is Geffrye Court in Hoxton. My dad was born here in 1949.

This is where my dad grew up with his brothers and sisters,

Boo, Kruger, Barry and Linda

and the Walls, John-John, Sue, Bill Boy, Kenny Wall and Puff.

His real dad died in his 20s.

And then my nan remarried to Jim Irwin when my dad was about four,

and I suppose the physical abuse started around that time.

My stepfather, he broke my legs when I was five,

broke my jaw when I was six, broke all my ribs when I was seven,

bashed me right up until I was 12.

Let me tell you how bad the abuse was.

Not only was it physical, it was mental.

They would be hit with belts,

my dad said sometimes he'd be home from school,

be put straight to bed with no dinner,

and all his cousins and friends would be playing outside

and it would be light out, nice sunny day in July.

I mean, the abuse was so bad,

that in the summer, they wore long trousers and long tops

to help cover the broken bones and the bruises.

And they lived over in here, this block here.

His stepfather used to bash him up and say, "I'm the Guv'nor."

So that would be ringing in my dad's ears throughout his teens and his adult life.

And then what happens, hate builds up inside you

and you become...

You hate the world.

The turning point was one cold winter.

It was thick snow outside and Kruger had wet the bed.

He was only a baby and Jim had really laid into him, really, really severely hurt him,

and my dad picked him up and took him in a, like a homemade go-kart,

dragged it through the snow, went round to Nanny Campion's house

and she just weren't having it, so she got hold of Jimmy Spinks.

Jimmy Spinks, that was his uncle,

Jimmy Spinks was the Guv'nor of Hoxton at that time

and he used to mind all the corner betters,

all the bookies on the corners that used to bet

and, you know, he was a person that you just didn't mess with,

you know, if you went to have a fight with him you had to turn up with 10 people.

Jimmy Spinks, he went round there with a cutthroat razor,

Nanny Campion, she went round there with the old fashioned big glass ashtrays

and they smashed the fuck out of him.

And then he just disappeared for two years.

My dad's relationship to Jimmy Spinks,

he was probably like a father figure to him really.

Everyone looked up to him and I think he aspired to be like him.

Because that's the hero figures you grew up with in the East End,

you grew up with local villains or hard men

and, you know, that's the way they wanted to be in them days.

Back in the '50s and '60s, in the East End, it was normal to see grown men

have a hand to hand fight in the street if they had some dispute.

And it was a cultural thing.

And to be tough meant people sort of left you alone.

So Lenny became tough.

His first paid fight was around the age of about nine or 10

here in Geffrye Court.

There was a bigger kid picking on one of his sisters

and his mum said, "You better go down there, you better deal with that boy,

"and if you do, I'll give you some money to go and buy some cream cakes."

And I don't think he needed persuading to have a cream cake

because he did like a cream cake.

Within a flash, he went down there, smashed the bully up,

come back, and said where's his cream bun?

She went, "I've to go to the shop and get it."

He said, "Well, how long are you going to be

"because I'm going to go bash someone else up. I want two cream buns."

She went, "No, Len, only the one."

I think he probably had a flavour for it then.

Obviously, when my dad come out of Borstal,

things had changed for him physically, you know.

Two years in a young man's life,

changes in your body takes, it's unbelievable,

so when he come out of prison and see Jim Irwin

and their first altercation, and my dad punched him,

he went green and then he knew that abuse would stop there and then.

I was going to give him a strong talking to once,

but on my mother's death bed, she promised me,

you know, "Please, please, don't have a go at him,"

and I promised her I would never have a go at him.

And I found out about two weeks ago, he'd died.

And I don't drink, I ain't drunk for 20 years,

I had a shandy that night.

Hi, Boo, you all right?

Yeah. How's Kruger?

No, I ain't rushing you for the interview, no.

No, really, I ain't really. No, look, whenever you're ready.

Obviously, I'm making sure Kruger is all right first

because obviously it seemed like he was up for it. Um...

Oh, all right, OK. Well, let me know. OK. All right then.

I'll put it in the budget, don't worry.

All right. Send him my love, then, yeah?

All right. I'll call you later. I love you. Bye, bye.

We were supposed to film Kruger and Boo today,

my dad's brothers and sisters,

just, er, but it's been pretty hard to try and get people to talk on camera,

especially his family. They don't want to do it, so.

Knock on the door and see if she's in.

Is there anyone in, Joe? Nan?

You all right, where are you going, Guv?

Where is the dog? Come in then, come in.

How are you, Lyns, are you all right?

I'm fine, shut the door, Joe.

Lenny got married at the age of 19 and my mum was 17.

My mum, she can remember walking up the street

and she could actually see my dad's mattress on the street,

so she go to Rose, "What's that?" She goes, "Oh, it's Lenny's mattress."

She went, "Why'd you throw the mattress out?"

She went, "Well, I ain't having him back, Val, you've got to have him."

She said like, looked round and thought, "Let's see what sort of life I'm in for then

"if his mum's trying to get rid of him."

Here's Caliban Towers here. I think we used to live on the 13th floor.

When they was younger, my mum and dad used to have,

because they were probably the first one, couple to have a flat,

so they used to have a lot of house parties up there and they used to get pissed

and what him and his cousins used to do is hang off the top,

13th floor by their fingers, and see who could hang there the longest without pulling up,

who would get tired and look.

So can you imagine hanging up there on the 13th floor like that,

freezing cold, drunk, and see who could stay the longest.

Now, if you slipped or made one move you're dead.

They play PlayStation 4s now.