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James Richard Francis Brian

“Jim” as he’s known in the industry is certainly a force to be reckoned with. As his unofficial, self-appointed, poorly researching internet biographer, I wanted to write a testament to his talents, and recall some of my favorite Jim Brian moments. I also invite you to leave any comments about the great man below if there’s something you want to share. No, he’s not dead. He’s not even sick as far as I know. I’m just sad that I’m missing his birthday.

We were casually driving through Loughborough as teens do, when Jim mentioned that a piece of art he’d created was on display. On the street. Not some graffiti or poster, a freaking statue he’d made and which was on display in a public place. He’s very modest is Jim, never one to blow his own hooter, and if we didn’t happen to be driving past it, I’d probably have never known about it.

As a school chap, I was fortunate to live in a small village between Loughborough and Jim’s house, which meant I got to ride in the era-defining Metro Turbo. On the long and winding roads the little blower would steal from the exhaust flow and squeeze more oomph into the intake manifold. Which is analogous with Jim. He packs a lot of punch and goes like the clappers. I don’t really know what I mean by the last sentence, or why anyone would be compared to a car. If I was to do that, I’d probably pick his Triumph which accompanied him in the university years.

To skip to university without mentioning that he ran a pub in Woodhouse Eaves would be a crime. He knew about barrels, insects laying eggs in pipes, and all the other great things that were a mystery to my 18 year old self. In fact, they still are a mystery. And he knew enough about drinking too. And music. And art. And books.

Fast forward a few years to living in Hammersmith and Shepherds Bush, and one of my favorite nights turned into a morning with Grand Theft Auto Vice City and Jim on the sofa, causing electronic havoc in staunch denial of the day job that waited for me.

Anyway, I’m working on a brief movie of his life or two, so I hope I haven’t sabotaged his path to captainship of industry. Jim has always been one of those people who is thoroughly cool (when cool is, you know, cool) and whom I felt fortunate to know. He had a hair-dryer shaped like a duck at university for example, and didn’t seem to mind when I passed out in the bathroom at his hall of residence. I say “his” hall of residence, as he was voted to be chief of it. I’m sure there was a better title, Archduke of Goldsmiths or Big Poppa JB, though that escapes me now as my consciousness did then. I’m sure I’ll go back to London one day to learn he’s become the Mayor of Shepherds Bush, or Chancellor of West London.

There are many examples of Jim’s popularity. If you met him, you’d like him too.

Oh, and Jim, if you find yourself googling your name and come across this let me know. I wasn’t happy with the pages I found when searching for you before I wrote this.

 
 
Here’s another video I made as I am unable to join you on the day of your birthday.

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