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‘Chasing The Cheese’

This book chronicles my life from the back end of 2007 until October 2008 and includes detailed accounts of my naked wrestling match with a 92 year old man from the flat upstairs (he was naked, not me) – and he was dead within the week. The utterly bizarre funeral of Roy “The Slitherman” Jay, the comic/vocalist who had moved to Benidorm after disgracing himself by baring his bare buttocks at an audience down Devon way in the 80´s. Roy was a real character and had previously been sacked from working in a fast food van, not for serving the public in the buff from the waist down (a fact that the paying customers were blissfully unaware), - but for deep fat frying someone’s slipper!

 

We take a look at England´s beach soccer team floundering against some of the elite teams in Europe whilst opposition goalkeepers sat in deck chairs sipping at cocktails, smoking cigars and making sand castles with their bare feet. Trips to England and visits to the “Bottle Kicking & Hare Pie Scramble” in Hallaton, The cheese rolling in Gloucester, “The Great Gorilla Race” in London and a somewhat early arrival at the “World Nettle Eating Contest” in Dorset are all in there. A short stint in Blackpool which includes accidentally stumbling across the, “British Town Criers Championships”, “Tram Sunday” in Fleetwood, with every mode of transport from throughout the ages, all except ...er...trams, and taking in some shows featuring some of the great variety acts still hanging on from the 70´s. – I was castigated at the ´Opera House` by the elderly couple seated behind me for “moving about and making too much noise”. To be fair to myself Norman Collier was on at the time and I was busy laughing myself into semi consciousness at the sight of him morphing from Al Jolson into “Pingu the penguin”. (I duly apologised and promised never to laugh ever again).  

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Chasing The Cheese

“Are You Affiliated” is a nostalgic look back at my first steps into my local Working Men´s Club. From being taken there by my Dad in my early teens in the mid 70´s and having a whole new world opened up to me in the form smoked filled rooms full of chatter, the click of dominoes, wholesome beer bellies, the ratchetty drones of the “One armed Bandit” and hooting laughter. I marvelled at the cavalcade of characters on show, the comradery, their dedication to all things “Joshua Tetley “and the sheer joy of their comic appeal.

 

We look at the religion that was snooker, the compulsory sessions that were Sunday afternoons, Scratch, Sukey, Rusty and Baskerville – Club dogs! The delight of Christmas Day, which entailed the scrutinizing of dubious knitwear and the birth of a hero –“Wazack Watson” who won the “Christmas Jumper Championship” 3 times and thus got to keep the trophy (a competition whereby I was honoured to be compere).

 

We dissect my initiation to the “Annual General Meeting” which provided more light entertainment and belly laughs than a million Royal Variety Shows, e.g. – “I propose we put Bob Proctor on the committee” – riposte – “I propose yer talkin bollocks”, and many, many more. We see how, I am propelled giddily from club member to club “Turn” but the reality of show business kicking in early doors, when me and The Elderly Brothers, were not only expected to work for free but had to pay 20 pence each before being allowed in the concert room.

 

Also, a chapter briefly outlining my one and only season at “Pontins” on the entertainment staff, my wars with obnoxious infants in the guise of “Captain Blood” the barefoot, hung-over pirate and a first meeting with larger than life Lifeguard Terry Ferguson (who received his 2nd verbal warning three days before the season started).

 

More characters abound during my days as a barman in “Miss Patricia´s Music Hall Tavern” in Blackpool, including a Gent in his 70´s insisting he was about to meet his grandparents in a pub round the corner where there was pie and peas and “The Spice Girls” were second on. Compere Frankie Whittle carrying on his act in the street when we were evacuated because of fire, and a bloke called Billy with a cleft pallet whose dog used to arrive 20 minutes before he did.

 

Oh yes, and touring the clubs around Manchester as a “Comic Impressionist” (If only I could have done an impression of somebody with a decent act).

Are You Affiliated

Click the picture above for a free download of my  book

‘Are You Affiliated’

Although the “Cumberland Ex-servicemen´s Club” does actually exist (formally the “Cumberland Sports & Social Club”) in our own surreal little world within the “Cumberland Bar” in Benidorm of an afternoon, the articles within this volume are from our spoof club journal.

 

Written in a language which would be immediately familiar to any members of the ´club´ fraternity from a few years back it deals in all seriousness with a variety of subjects in a typical club land atmosphere. It brags of being a ¨multicultural club´  (because they have an Al Jolson tribute show on Sundays), reports on the gibbon from the cabaret act ´Gordon & His Gargling Gibbon´ breaking free and causing havoc in the games room. Refusing to acknowledge the validity of one of its own – because he collapsed and died whilst doing ´Áuld Lang Syne´ just after 12 o´clock and thus taking him into the “next” year of which he had not paid his subscriptions so he was deemed no longer to be a member. A 5 page comic relief special features Bill Chivers playing “There´s no one quite like grandma” on his comb and paper who – “After a promising start had to be rushed to the nearby clinic with dandruff of the gums”, carnage in the wheelbarrow race, a over 65´s rugby league tournament in the car park and finally discovering that comic relief, is held every two years and they´d got the wrong one.

 

We also take a look at the Concert Chairman´s log as he and his wife Elsie attempted a charity tandem cycle ride from “John O Groats” to Lands End, setting off from the “Sheeps Nutsack” pub on the A99 and ending in tears some 2 months later in Inverness. “Elsie weren´t aware where John O Groats actually were – she thought it were somewhere in Devon – so we were always up against it after that”

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The Cumberland Claptrap

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‘The Cumberland Claptrap’

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