Category Archives: humour

Me or the Cat

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I’m not a great cat fan. Don’t get me wrong, they are pleasant enough but I’m allergic to cats and I found out the hard way by living with two. They were both different characters; one was JJ named after a racing driver I thought was going to be one of the all time greats, JJ Lehto. Never heard of him? Well that’s probably because he didn’t get to be one of the all times greats after all which perhaps shows that I don’t know as much about F1 racing as I thought I did.

JJ the cat was a lady who liked to be boss of the catwalk. Any other local cat who dared to walk along the wall at the back of our property was soon either chased off or JJ would just plonk herself down in the other cat’s way and just dare him or her to come this way. Sometimes that led to a tense staring off competition which usually led to the other cat going home a different way.

Our other cat Sam was a very laid back fellow. He liked to spend the day up in the rafters of the garage roof, so much so that I had to fit a cat flap on the garage door so he could come and go. Sam was fond of his breakfast though and so many times he would wake me in a morning by giving me a friendly massage on my chest with his paws, usually on a day when I had a lie in. That would not only wake me up but also set me off sneezing. One day I told the wife I couldn’t live with our feline friends anymore, it was either me or the cats, one of us had to go. She chose to keep the cats.

Back then we lived in a place called Newton-le-Willows. A nice enough friendly place I thought but it was a black cat that caused the end of our neighbourhood harmony.

Okay, here’s how it started; My neighbour was a guy called Tony and he and his wife were going on holiday and he asked me to look after his cat Blackie. It needed to be fed once a day, in the morning, for a week. OK, not a big deal and it put me right where I wanted to be with my neighbour: him owing me a big favour so ‘no problem’ I told him.

Day1

I’m up and showered and all ready for work and so I nip into next door’s and sort out the cat food. Tony has shown me where it’s all kept, which bowl to use and so on. I sort it all out, set it down on the mat and who is there waiting and purring? Not one but two cats. I thought there was only supposed to be one so do I do two bowls? No, he specified the cat food and showed me the bowl (the one bowl) so OK it’s sharing time for the cats and I’m off to work.

I jump in my van and I’m off and as I drive away there are the cats giving me a little catty wave from the kitchen window. Happy days.

Day 2

I mention sort of randomly as I’m off to work that there were two cats in next door’s house and my wife (the one that later chose the cats over me) says, ‘What!’ in a big sort of screamy, scary way and I’m thinking, ‘here we go, what have I done?’ The thing is there is only one cat living next door so I’m tasked to throw out the intruder cat and just to feed the main cat. So, in I go and I don’t really know which is the proper cat and which is the cheeky intruder cat. Neither of them seemed to respond to the name ‘Blackie’ so sod it I thought. Cat food sorted -I’m off.

Once again as I drive off there are the two cats happily washing themselves in the kitchen window and as I passed by a revolutionary thought occurred to me. One of the cats was actually a black cat so it could be (sound of penny dropping) that he was Blackie and the other cat, the ginger cat was the cat interloper.

Day 3

Feeling a little bit like Sherlock Holmes and armed with this new deduction about ‘Blackie’ I popped into next door and chucked out ‘Ginger’, sorted out the cat food and then left for work. Was I dreaming or did I really see the two cats once again at the kitchen window? Did Ginger have a sort of ‘you’ll have to do better than that’ look on his face? Surely not!

Day 4

According to my (former) wife it was a major criminal offence to have a strange cat enter your neighbours’ house and scoff half the cat food, so once again in next doors, I put out the cat food and then chucked out the ginger cat. I did think about locking the cat flap but feeling this could have repercussions in case Blackie wanted to exit the property I left it open. Driving off as usual I spied the two cats smiling happily from the kitchen window engaged in their morning feline ritual of washing themselves, only this time they seemed to have been joined by a third cat! Christ, I thought, I hope the neighbours get back soon before a cat colony starts up in their house!

Days 5 6 and 7

Pretty similar to the previous days so lets fast forward to . . .

Day 8

Our neighbours returned from their break in foreign climes. I wasn’t sure about mentioning the intruding cat but what the heck! I told them anyway and they said not to bother, ‘that cat comes in all the time anyway. We’re sure its owners don’t feed it properly.’

Day 9

I was outside washing my van and had a chat with my neighbour Elaine, the lady who ran our neighbourhood watch group. I told her about the cat caper thinking it was a pretty funny story but she seemed rather shocked by it all. Well, humour wasn’t one of her strong points I thought as she marched off to see Stella, another neighbour from further up the avenue who I have to admit I wasn’t too fond off. As the afternoon wore on I noticed Stella storm past me and knock on next door’s and have something of a minor row with the occupants. She stormed off fuming and gave me a pretty black look when I offered a cheery “afternoon!”

Day 9, later.

Tony gave me something of a black look too and didn’t respond to my friendly wave. I did wonder if this was vaguely connected to the cat saga. No, surely not I thought. Later, Tony’s wife came round and told me through a veil of tears that Stella had knocked on their door and accused her and Tony of being ‘A pair of f**king catnappers!‘ It turned out that Stella owned the ginger cat and Tony’s wife wanted to know why I had even mentioned it to Stella. Well, I don’t even really know Stella I said, the only person I mentioned it to was Elaine. “What!’ fumed Tony’s wife. (Wish I could remember her name!) The next thing you know she storms across the road, bangs on the door and appears to be having it out with Elaine. I couldn’t hear what was said but there was a lot of finger pointing, some at my house, some at Blackie wandering innocently along the avenue, some at her house and some, in fact quite a lot now I think of it, at Stella’s house.

Day 10

A chance encounter at Tesco’s with Elaine. I’m scooting through the store, not really looking where I’m going as shopping is not high on my list of favourite activities and as I scoot along I’m throwing bread and milk and all sorts of stuff in my trolley when who should I bump into but Elaine.

“It wasn’t my fu**ing fault you know!” she said.

“That’s OK,” I told her, “I never look where I’m going with a shopping trolley!”

“I meant about the cat!” Elaine gave me a mean look and was gone, never to speak to me again.

Good job I didn’t mention that the third cat I saw in next door’s was hers!

2024

As usual we’re off to France this week so I have to admit that this was an old post that I’ve updated so what other cat stories could I throw in to finish off?  Well, the most famous cat in the UK must be Larry the Cat. Larry the Cat you might be asking? Who the heck is that? Well Larry is the chief mouser at number 10 Downing Street. He has been at that famous address since 2011 so in fact he has been there longer than quite a few Prime Ministers including David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer. Not bad going for a cat, Larry.

Anyway that’s enough blogging for now. What’s on the TV? Well, there’s always that TV classic over on Talking Pictures TV; Batman with Adam West as the Caped Crusader and Burt Ward as the Boy Wonder. Which villain is threatening them this week? The Joker? The Riddler?

Hope it’s Catwoman.

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Naming That Hurricane

Posted on by Steve Higgins

These days I’m retired but back in my working days I sometimes dreamt about having a really interesting job. You know, something special, something really interesting, something out of the ordinary, something like a Hurricane Namer. Let’s face it, someone out there has to do it; someone has to name those pesky hurricanes. Whenever I was having a bad day at work I used to think that one day I’d search just that little bit harder, go that extra mile and maybe, just maybe I’d land a job like that.

Today in the 21st century, searching for a job is a completely different thing to what it used to be. No more searching through the situations vacant columns in a newspaper. Job hunting nowadays is pretty much internet browsing. OK, you’ll still see jobs advertised in newspapers but the internet is where the job action is. Technology has even reached a point where you can have an online interview. Once I had a video interview with the BBC. I’m glad to say I passed the interview but as so many people applied there wasn’t a job available for me. Pity as I really did fancy working for the BBC!

I had another interview not long ago which was for a weekend job manning the helpline for a bank. I started off by entering a lot of information about myself and answering some questions and then I came to a section about selling. Selling? I wasn’t going for a sales job so when the question came up asking if I was confident about selling financial products I answered ‘no’. Big mistake because the interview terminated there and then. I later learned that part of the helpline job including trying to interest the customer in the bank’s financial services.

I remember once back in the 90s when I was unemployed for a short while I was sent to join the ‘job club’. There was one compelling reason to go, attend or we’ll stop your unemployment benefit! OK, fair enough I said, I’m on my way. The very first day at the job club in Levenshulme, Manchester, the club was that packed we couldn’t all get in. It was just a case of give your name, register and get going.

The next week there were slightly fewer people and by week four our numbers had reduced to just a small group. We checked the job cards in the unemployment office, checked the newspaper job advertisements and worked on our CV’s. The staff gave advice on interviews, letter writing and so on, and in between we supped plenty of tea, ate a considerable amount of biscuits and generally had quite a friendly, sociable morning. Why people didn’t want to attend I really didn’t know. I kind of liked it. When I actually got a job, I used to find myself thinking, ‘wonder what the guys are doing down at the job club?’

Many years before that I embarked on a career with GM Buses, the main bus operator in Manchester. It was always intended to be something to pay the rent while I found a proper job but somehow, I never found that proper job I was always looking for. After a few years I started to realise that, so I started trying for promotion. One day I put in for an inspector’s job. It was more money, it was a supervisory role and best of all it was based in the depot so I didn’t have to deal with the great unwashed public. There were two vacancies, one in the Ardwick depot, about ten minutes from the city centre and another in Rochdale which was on the other side of Manchester. I wasn’t interested in the Rochdale one as it was much too far away and I didn’t have any transport at the time. Ardwick though was pretty easy to get to, a quick bus into Manchester from Didsbury where I lived and then there were lots of buses heading south from the city centre through Ardwick.

The interview seemed to be going pretty well. There were three interviewers all coming at me with various questions and, because I had just read a book about how to have a great job interview, I had a shed load of answers as well as a host of questions to throw back at them. Anyway, after a while they asked me to step out of the room. When I was called back they asked me what would I do if they offered me the Rochdale job. Rochdale? That’s miles away I thought, so I said no thanks. No thanks? It felt like a good decision at the time, well, for about five minutes anyway.

These days I’m retired but even so, I haven’t cancelled my job alerts and the crazy thing is I’ve actually had quite a few job offers lately. I get a lot of messages from the sites where I have uploaded my CV and two lately were from companies who liked my CV and asked if I wanted to be interviewed for two managerial jobs. Thanks but they were a few years too late. One job I did apply for was to be the Belfast correspondent for ITV news. I sent off my CV and linked in some of my ‘talking to camera’ videos. I didn’t for a minute expect to get the job but I did get quite a nice email back thanking me for my application and interest in ITV News.

Anyway, back to the Hurricane Naming job. I suppose it was a bit of a silly dream really, not unlike the accountant on Monty Python who wanted to be a lion tamer . . .

Hurricane naming must be one of those home working jobs I imagine, perhaps one where you have to be on call, after all a hurricane could erupt out of the weather front at any time, night or day. Maybe there’s a control room or central office where you are based but I’d guess that every few weeks or so you’d have to work from home and perhaps be on call at the weekend.

I can just imagine the scene, it’s the middle of the night, I’m tucked up in bed at home and my work’s ‘Hurricane Naming’ mobile rings . .

STEVE: Hello, Hurricane Naming Officer.

CALLER: (AMERICAN ACCENT.) Hey, this is the Pacific weather station and we’ve spotted a new hurricane forming over the south west. We need a name straight away.

STEVE: OK, give me a minute here, bear with me.

CALLER: OK but look, we need that name.

STEVE: OK I’m on it. (If my work’s ‘hurricane’ laptop is anything like my own laptop it does take a heck of a long time to boot up!) Let me see, which letter are we up to? Oh yes, J. So it’s going to be . . Joan. Yes, Hurricane Joan.

CALLER: Joan? Hurricane Joan? Look, this hurricane looks like be a real ‘kick ass’ hurricane and I’m not sure Joan is up to it as regards a name.

STEVE: Well sorry you don’t care for it but as of 02:35 hours I’m officially naming this hurricane; Hurricane Joan.

CALLER. Holy smoke. Joan? You gotta be kidding?

STEVE: No. Joan it is.

CALLER: The thing is, my old Mom was kinda looking forward to having a hurricane named after her. She’s 86 this year and not in the best of health. In fact, (fights back the tears) I wonder if she’s going to make 87.

STEVE. Well, what’s her name?

CALLER: Betsy. Hurricane Betsy would be just great, a real gutsy hurricane name!

STEVE. Yes but we’re up to the J’s. We did the B’s a while back, last year actually.

CALLER. Well what about Juliet, my wife’s name is Juliet.

STEVE: Juliet? But what about your old Mum?

CALLER Well, this way we kind of keep it in the family and well, when it comes down to it, that’s my frikkin’ hurricane. I found it and I can’t believe some goddamn limey is going to choose a name like Joan!

STEVE: Well what sort of a name is Juliet? Joan has got an old world feeling about it and here in Hurricane Naming we like to keep old traditions going.

CALLER: Juliet is the name of the woman married to the guy who found the hurricane!

STEVE: Well it just so happens that I am the duty Hurricane Namer and as I said earlier, I’m naming that hurricane Joan!

CALLER: You Limey b-

LINE GOES DEAD. STEVE SIGHS AND MUMBLES TO HIMSELF: It’s all in a day’s work for a hurricane namer!

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Don’t Make Me Laugh

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I was watching one of those modern comedians the other day, one of those modern stand-up politically correct comedians who are really just not that funny at all. They don’t come out with jokes anymore, well, not the kind of jokes that I’m used to, you know, the two blokes go into a pub kind of joke. No, these days a comedian tells you a story; he did this, he did that and some of it might be vaguely humorous.  Michael McIntyre is a comedian in this modern category and to be fair he can be quite funny but I still prefer a straight joke to his story about waking up next to his wife and him having bad breath and then a whole lot of repercussions stemming from that.

To be fair there are some modern comedians I like. People like Jack Dee, Gary Delaney, Milton Jones and Stewart Francis.

When I was a child there used to be a lot of TV shows showing the old silent comedies from the early days of the cinema. There were stars like Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd. What they did back in the 1960s with those old silent films was to add a few sound effects which might have actually come from the soundtrack of cartoons like Tom and Jerry. In the rumble tumble world of the Keystone Cops they added the sounds of various people being hit on the head with kitchen pots and pans, things falling from great heights and a commentary with a narrator saying things like ‘Look out Charlie’ just as Chaplin was about to get a pie in the face.

Chaplin: picture from flickr

When I first saw those films as they were meant to be shown with just a piano tinkling away in the background and no sound effects, I have to say I was rather disappointed but of course, audiences back then didn’t have much choice, the tinkling piano was all they had. Few of the stars from those silent film days ever made it into the era of the talkies but a duo who did were Laurel and Hardy.

Charlie Chaplin is one of my personal heroes and one of the greats of the silver screen, perhaps the very first movie genius ever, but here’s a flash; he never ever made me laugh. Smile, yes, but laugh, no. I look at his movies and recognise his story telling power, his movie making magic and much more but no, Charlie never really made me laugh. Laurel and Hardy on the other hand, two movie comedians who are not perhaps as lauded the world over as geniuses but who are perhaps more universally loved, well, now they do make me laugh.

Whenever some catastrophe befell Oliver Hardy, whenever he stood and looked straight at the camera after a cabinet landed on his head or a car accident befell him and he stood up straight amid the shambles of a house exploding around him and Stanley would go into his helpless ‘it wasn’t my fault’ act, that would not only crack me totally up but would leave me helpless with tears of laughter running down my face.

Way back in my school days Monty Python was on TV late on -I think- a Thursday night. It was certainly a week night and it was certainly late as I had a running argument with my Mum about staying up to watch it. The next day at school the talk would be all about the latest episode.

One day for some inexplicable reason I completely forgot about it and in my first lesson the following day one of my schoolmates approached me and said ‘Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!’ I looked blankly back at him and said something like ‘What are you on about?’ Only to get the disgusted answer ‘Didn’t you watch Monty Python last night?’ and then the lad moved on to someone else. Moments later I heard something again about the Spanish Inquisition and then two boys rolling with laughter. I was totally left out and I didn’t know what to do about it until later when I had an idea.

Monty Python Team

In my next class another friend asked ‘Did you see Monty Python last night?’ and after a brief moment I decided to take something of a chance and answered ‘Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!’ and the two of us rolled about in laughter and this trend continued throughout the day.

My friends never discovered that I hadn’t actually seen the Spanish Inquisition sketch and in fact I didn’t see it until years later when some digital channel started showing Monty Python repeats. I lied to my friends just because I didn’t want to be left out of some schoolboy banter. Funnily enough, the Spanish Inquisition sketch is one of my favourites.

One of the founder members of Monty Python, John Cleese, followed up Python with a comedy series about a small hotel and its madcap staff. The owner of the hotel was hotelier Basil Fawlty played by Cleese and his wife – played by Prunella Scales and the series was called Fawlty Towers. At the time the show had a very mild reception but these days it is considered a TV classic. Cleese and co-writer Connie Booth who played a hotel maid in the show, made only two short series. Recently Cleese claimed to be making a follow up series though it’s a pity he didn’t do that many years ago as most of his co-stars are either no longer with us, like Andrew Sachs who played the Spanish waiter, or not in a position to perform like poor Prunella Scales, suffering with dementia.

Woody Allen is a different sort of film comedian although in his early days we can see there was clearly a sort of slapstick influence on his work. One of my favourite scenes in his older pictures was from Take the Money and Run where he decides to rob a bank but the bank staff have difficulty reading his note demanding money. His later pictures are warmer and more thoughtful rather than hilarious but they are still funny but in a different way.

Two comedy films that come to mind now are films that I’ve always found absolutely hilarious – Airplane and Police Academy. Both films spawned a series of not quite so funny sequels but the originals still kill me to this day.

I thought I’d finish with a look at a few particular favourites

The Naked Gun

This is one of those laugh out loud comedies that also spawned various sequels and even a TV series. It also rejuvenated the career of actor Leslie Neilson who played the hapless police detective throughout the series.

Some Like it Hot

Some Like it Hot was written by Billy Wilder and his longtime writing partner, IAL Diamond. Wilder also produced and directed the film which starred Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon.

The film itself is something of a farce; musicians Curtis and Lemmon witness a gangland murder in 1920s Chicago and go on the run from mobster George Raft. To escape they join an all girl band dressed as women. The two both fall for singer Sugar Kane played by Monroe and Tony Curtis pretends to be a millionaire in order to pursue her. Curtis takes Sugar on board ‘his’ yacht while the real owner, millionaire Mr Osgood is diverted by Jack Lemmon still in his disguise as a woman.

The film has passed into legend for the problems Marilyn had during production. One scene in which she was required to say ‘It’s me, Sugar’ took 47 takes although another scene which Wilder thought would take three days was shot in 20 minutes.

When Harry Met Sally

This film is a very Woody Allen-esque film although Woody had nothing to do with it. It was written by Nora Ephron and directed by Rob Reiner and starred Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan as the eponymous Harry and Sally. The two make a great film pairing, much more so than Meg and Tom Hanks with whom Meg starred in two other films. It’s about a couple who start out as friends and finally become lovers.

Tootsie

Dustin Hoffman stars as an actor who always goes out on a limb to give the perfect or at least the most authentic performance possible. His big problem is that in doing so he usually makes it hard for everyone else, making shooting go over schedule and over budget. No one wants to hire him so when he tries to help his friend Sandy get a part in a TV soap opera, which she sadly doesn’t get, he decides to masquerade as a woman and try for the part himself. The crazy thing is, he actually gets the part and has to continue to pretend to be a woman even though he finds himself falling for his female co-star.

The idea of men dressing up as women has been used time and time again but Tootsie and Some Like it Hot both work because of the high standard of the writing and the performances. In one of my favourite scenes in Tootsie, Hoffman as actor Michael Dorsey has to kiss the senior doctor but he improvises and does something else. The director isn’t happy but Hoffman apologises. At least he didn’t have to kiss the doctor he thinks but then the doctor grabs him and kisses him anyway. Throw in a little slapstick which wouldn’t be out of place in a Chaplin film and the result is an outstanding film comedy.

I thought I’d finish this slightly oddball and meandering look at comedy with some classic TV comedy from the 1970’s. (I’m tempted to mention MASH here, my all time favourite TV series which was a fabulous mix of comedy and drama. I won’t say any more because a while back I wrote an entire post about the show which you can read by clicking here.) Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker were major TV comedy stars in the late sixties and early seventies when some enterprising producer decided to team the two up for a TV show called The Two Ronnies. Some of the top comedy writers of the day contributed to the show, even some of the Monty Python stars and one of the most famous sketches was the Four Candles sketch.

That’s pretty much it for this short comedy ramble. What makes you laugh?

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How Barack Obama Ended up in my Junk Mail and Other Stories

Posted on by Steve Higgins

It’s always worth just having a peek in your junk mail. You never know what may be found there. I tend to look when I’m expecting an important e-mail and it hasn’t turned up in the usual place, my inbox for instance. I’m always pretty amazed at what I might find there: Invitations to join groups. Blogging advice. Video seminars. How to make money with bitcoin. Russian women who want to meet me and so on.

I’m always surprised at the volume of Russian women who want to meet me and just lately an increasing number of Ukrainian ladies have expressed similar feelings too. I can’t really say that I’ve ever thought of myself as good looking but perhaps when the light catches me in a particular way, something is visible which just catches the eye of Russian women.

A few years ago, I wrote back to one of these ladies who claimed to have seen me on an international dating site and tried to explain I thought she was the victim of a scam and that I had never been on a dating site. The lady in question wrote back with a three-page email detailing her life in a remote region of Russia and how my photograph had so enthralled her she had decided to join me in the USA at the earliest opportunity. I’m sorry to say I didn’t reply although I was tempted to say I would be waiting at JFK in New York whenever she wanted. Funnily enough, she’s not the only person to think I live in the USA.

One day I was scanning through the junk folder and there it was. An e-mail from Barack Obama. That’s right, former President of the USA Barack Obama. Obama clearly wanted my help. He was urging me to vote for Joe Biden. I’m not sure how he had heard about me, maybe he has read one of my blog posts. Of course, if he had, I’m guessing he would have spotted that I’m English although perhaps it isn’t completely clear from my blog posts that I actually live in England, although now I think about it, it actually is.

Joe Biden. Pic courtesy Wikipedia

Don’t get me wrong, I’d be happy to vote for Joe as a favour to Mr Obama, even though I do wonder whether or not Joe is getting a little long in the tooth for the top job at the White House. I say Mr Obama but as we are now on email terms, maybe I should just call him Barack? He could call me Steve or even Ste if he wanted, after all we are now friends, well, email friends, sort of.

Of course, I’m not actually eligible to vote in the USA which could cause a problem with our friendship but I thought I’d keep that to myself until after I’d asked Barack to maybe plug my book, Floating in Space. After all, one favour deserves another and like I said, I am willing to vote for Biden, if I could.

I’m wondering now whether the issues from the last election regarding President Putin came about because he had also received an email from the democrats urging him to vote for their candidate which at the time was Mrs Clinton. I don’t know Putin personally but I can see him being the sort of guy who might take offence at that and maybe cause him to vote for Trump. Putin of course, not being American can’t vote for Trump either but again, I wouldn’t want to be the guy who has to tell him that. One thing that might get in the way is that I don’t actually speak Russian although I do happen to know that the Russian word for no is niet. Putin however, strikes me as the kind of guy who doesn’t want to hear niet, nein, non or basically anything in the negative.

Tell him what he doesn’t want to hear and next thing you know you’d be hearing reports of the English blogger getting hit by a poisoned dart or being invited for a cup of coffee and then suddenly suffering from a bout of radiation poisoning! Putin is not a man who takes dissent lightly and if you don’t believe me try asking Alexei Navalny. Good job I’m not a coffee drinker is all I can say about that.

Donald Trump. Picture courtesy Wikipedia

This week I watched the first presidential debates between Biden and Trump and like many people I really wasn’t impressed. I’m not sure what the population is in the USA these days but it must be pretty big. All those millions of Americans and this is it? These two guys are the best on offer? Actually, that’s not necessarily true because believe it or not there are 1207 candidates in this year’s election. 1207? That’s right, 1207 although the media for some reason will only focus on two.

On a completely different topic, this past week Liz and I went to the funeral of a virtual friend of ours, Johnny Two Sheds. Now neither of us have ever met Johnny but we have both chatted to him out there in cyberspace on various Facebook pages relating to Lytham and St Annes. Liz spoke with him much more than me and the two of them had a great deal of cheeky banter over the years particularly on one page which is more dedicated to cheeky banter than to actual news worthy items on the Fylde coast.

Johnny alas was banned by Facebook because as you may have guessed Johnny ‘Two Sheds’ was not his real name. He rose again on Facebook with the name Johnny Phoenix but sadly passed away some weeks ago. Due to the current regulations, only thirty people were allowed at his funeral although it was nice to see his coffin arrive at the country church in Wrea Green escorted by a paramedic motorcycle rider and the street outside lined by his fellow paramedics.

Johnny’s brother was there to answer one important question. Actually I felt a little nervous about posing the question so I gave Liz a nod and she obligingly did the honours. Did Johnny have two sheds? Apparently, he did.

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A Bit of a Blog or a Blog of Bits . .

Posted on by Steve Higgins

This week I’ve been focussed on other things rather than blogging so I decided to take a few half finished posts and stitch them into one. Maybe it’s worked, maybe not. Here we go . . .

All of Me an autobiography by Barbara Windsor

Barbara is probably best known as the blonde from the Carry On films. It’s a niche that’s she stuck in despite her appearances in later years in the TV soap Eastenders. Maybe she likes that, maybe not but either way, she’s rather good at what she does. In this book, she tells her life story and it’s very frank and pretty entertaining.

‘Bar’ as her friends call her, doesn’t hold back and basically tells it like it is. She talks about her climb to fame and the husbands she has had along the way. First was Ronnie Knight, an East End gangster and friend of the Kray twins. Ronnie and Bar seemed pretty good together for a while but neither of them were interested in each other’s careers. Barbara would be off filming and Ronnie it seemed wasn’t bothered at all about that. He would be off to sort his nightclub out and Bar would be happy at home having to get up early for a film or rehearsing for one of her many stage roles. On one occasion in the early morning, the police burst in and carted Ronnie off to the nick for armed robbery. Barbara stuck by her man then but soon after, she’d had enough.

After Ronnie got the push, he was ‘aving it off’ with a blonde down at his club; Bar moved on to a younger guy and when that didn’t work out she moved onto an even younger guy. That younger guy, Scott, is still with her today and was in the news recently as Barbara has sadly been stricken with dementia and may have to go into residential care.

One surprising aspect of the book is that although like fellow Carry On star Kenneth Williams, I’d always thought of Barbara as a film and TV star, in fact a great deal of her career involved the stage and she appeared in many stage productions including her own one woman show.

This book, written in 2000 is a great little read and well worth picking up if you see it in the book shop. It’s written in a friendly talkative chit chat style, almost as if Bar has dictated it to someone and that’s something I particularly like about the book. The last quarter of the book though feels a little as if it has been tagged onto the end of another book. It mainly concerns her relationship with final husband Scott and is perhaps a little gushing and overly romantic and Woman’s Weekly style but I reckon Bar deserved a little romance in the twilight of her days. Nice read and a book well worth picking up.

Chaplin directed by Richard Attenborough

Searching through my old VHS videos the other day, I came across Chaplin, a film about the great silent comedian, directed by Richard Attenborough. I can’t say I’m a great fan of Attenborough as a director and this film showing us the life and times of Charlie Chaplin is lacking in many ways, but having said that it’s a pretty good film in many other ways.

I’ve often thought that if I could go back in time to any era, I’d go back to Hollywood in the 1920’s, the time of silent films. Someone, and I forget who it was, discovered that Hollywood had the perfect climate for making movies. Great weather, plenty of sun, all the requisites for making silent movies. Films back then were shot either outdoors or with basic sets without a roof, all lit by the relentless Californian sun. You didn’t need a degree to be a director in those days, just confidence and the ability to put a film together, not only in your head but to transfer it to film.

I don’t think Charlie Chaplin was really that funny, certainly not as funny as Laurel and Hardy for instance but he was the first film comedian to do more than link a series of funny images or sketches together. He added a little pathos, made the viewer feel for the character, care about the character as well as laugh at him.

Chaplin is loosely based on Charlie’s own autobiography, with a fictional editor played by Anthony Hopkins trying to add in all the bits that Chaplin didn’t want to write about, his various young wives for instance. Robert Downey Junior plays Chaplin and Geraldine Chaplin, Charlie’s real ife daughter, plays Chaplin’s mother who sadly descended into madness. Chaplin brought her to America and looked after her although he visited her infrequently.

The great loves of his life were his mother, his brother Sydney and his great friend Douglas Fairbanks. Sadly, Chaplin emerges  from his autobiography and from this film as essentially a sad fellow, someone in a way unfulfilled, although his films indeed changed the course of cinema history. In his time he was probably the most famous person in the world, his silent films were unrestricted by the restraints of language and his fame covered the entire globe, anywhere in fact that had a projector and a screen.

There are some great performances in this film, Kevin Kline is good as Douglas Fairbanks as is Dan Ackroyd playing the part of producer Mack Sennet. Robert Downey isn’t so bad either in the title role. I read somewhere that the film was a disaster at the box office. Pity. Personally I really enjoyed it.

Annoying Things Part 17

I was saving this for an ongoing blog post about annoying elements of the 21st Century which I update every now and then but instead here it is now. Having been cooped up at home for over 12 weeks I called into work ready to get back to my desk but apparently the Human Resources Department (years ago we used to call them ‘personnel’) decided I couldnt go back until August 1st. As a lot of the lockdown has eased we decided to have a trip out in the motorhome.

We found a nice spot to stop and set up our little camp, part of which involved a ground sheet. Now a ground sheet is something used by campers to lay down on the ground. It came in a smart plastic case and we unfolded it, spread it out and spent a considerable amount of time in the sun on it, lying around, reading, sunbathing and so on.

Later on when we packed up, I folded the ground sheet up but somehow it must have grown or stretched because no matter how I folded it, and I did do it according the still visible folds on the sheet itself, no way would it ever go back in that case. A similar thing happened the other week when I bought a hair cutting kit. It came in a box, the electric hair cutters, various length combs, a plug and so on. After I had performed my post lockdown personal haircut would that lot fit back in the box? Of course not! I’m sure one of the main design factors in these items is to make the box so small that the items will only ever fit in once and even then only in a certain way.

Of course I could put the hair cutters in the plastic bag from the groundsheet and then just tie up the ground sheet with an old belt. Result!

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Everything you need to know about Shopping.

Posted on by Steve Higgins

Believe it or not, I like shopping. Yes, really! I actually like shopping. Although born into the latter half of the 20th century I am a man who has embraced 21st century ideals. I don’t expect women to stay at home and do the cooking, washing, cleaning or shopping. No, as a new age man I am willing to get in there and sort out the shopping. Not the daily shop you understand, more of the occasional shop. .

I love shopping in Lidl and Aldi and I love checking out all those special offers in the centre aisles. You know things like, well the other day I saw this great set of ski goggles in Lidl. They had these special lenses and this special strap, and they were tinted and had this special anti-glare stuff on the lenses. Now it just so happens that I have never actually done any skiing. In fact I’ve never really been that interested in it. I mean actually paying to go somewhere that is cold? I don’t think so but then again. Imagine being on a flight that gets diverted and ends up in the French Alps. What would I do then? Sorry, can’t go skiing because I haven’t any ski goggles. You can see just from that quick example those ski goggles might have been worth it. Anyway, I managed to resist them in the end.

Another item that caught my fancy was some really tasty drill bits in a really nice case. I was tempted even though I don’t do that much drilling. Of course I do some drilling. I have a really rather nice drill and it was only months ago when I used it last. Actually, it may have been last year, or was it 2017? I know I did put up this really cracking set of bookshelves back in 1995 but anyway, once again I managed to resist the temptation to purchase.

Interestingly, a few weeks back Liz and I went into Curry’s to look for a new TV. We had already seen one on the World Wide Web but thought why wait for delivery? Why not just run up there and pick one up?

Of course the TV that we wanted wasn’t available. ‘You’d have been better ordering on the Internet’ said the salesman. No wonder Curry’s is only one third of the size it used to be; everyone is just ordering on the Internet.

When we mentioned we wanted a 32 inch TV the guy said ‘right, it’s for a caravan is it, or for the bedroom?’

Actually it was for the lounge, it’s just that we don’t want an oversized monstrosity taking over the entire room! (Actually now I think on, I quite fancy one of those huge TVs!)

When we mentioned we wanted a integrated DVD player the guy once again looked right down at us. A DVD player? ‘Well that’s old technology’ he said. ‘People tend to use Netflix nowadays.’

Look, whatever, It just so happens we want a DVD player, OK!

Right, said the guy but what about a Smart TV? You can watch Netflix, YouTube and all sorts of things. You do have Internet don’t you?

We do, only Liz’s bungalow is rather long and the Internet tends to stay over the other side of the house. Sorry Mr Smarmy Curry’s salesman: no sale and if I want a DVD player I’ll get one elsewhere!

Of course most of my shopping I do for my elderly mother in her local Asda store and there are some excellent departments there that I do like to visit. The CD section in Asda isn’t quite as interesting as the music area used to be. Now it’s a rather small section with only a limited few CD’s on sale because a lot of people tend to download their music. Sorry but once again I’m of the old school of music buyers, I want something physical for my money. I know I’m not going to get a big sleeve like in the vinyl days with some interesting sleeve notes. These days the sleeve notes are so small I need a magnifying glass to read them but I like to have something I can hold and look at and touch.

Sometimes I think back to those long gone Saturday afternoons flicking through records in the numerous record shops in Manchester. Sadly, that is just a distant memory now. Once I was always down at HMV in Manchester where they had an in store DJ. She was a really nice girl, very approachable and very into her music. She recommended all sorts of albums to me but I was usually in there hunting for some album or artist I had heard on the radio.

I remember going in one day to find the in-store DJ had been replaced by a radio version, someone, presumably at head office in London, who broadcast music to all the HMV stores. Later, in 2013,  the  store closed down completely after more than twenty years on the same site. Browsing records and videos in HMV and then popping into my favourite book stores before settling down in some back street pub for a drink, ah, those were the days.

Music shops are few and far between these days so where is left if you want to buy a record rather than download? Oh yes, the CDs and DVD department of your local superstore!

Moving on through Asda I do like to check out the the clothes section. It’s not so easy finding clothes to fit a huge gynormous great lump like me so it’s always worthwhile just checking out the supermarket menswear section because sometimes I will actually find something that will fit me.

Occasionally in the sale section I’ll find some really great XXL shirt lingering among the unwanted items but even then, I find that sometimes one man’s XXL is another man’s L!

Right that’s the proper shopping sorted, now for some day to day stuff, a quick whiz through and I slap a few things in my trolley; bacon, eggs, tomatoes, bread, milk and so on.

The big problem in any supermarket for me is that no matter what, some strange force will unerringly guide me to the totally wrong till. Now, I won’t just jump onto any till. I will observe closely, check out the options and then choose the wrong one.

Here’s a for instance, yesterday at Asda. All the main tills were full of people with a huge trolley of goods, enough to last me about a month so I ignored those and went on down to the basket section. Two tills were open here, one with about four people ahead of me, the other with about ten. A no brainer I thought, go for the one with four people. I just managed to nip in before a crazy looking lady with a failed 1960’s style beehive hairdo. She waited behind me for a short while before bailing out in favour of aisle 2.

Now my usual tactic is not to unload any stuff until I am sure of the lie of the land but on this day I felt confident enough to do so. Big mistake! On till number 2, weird looking crazy beehive lady seemed to be moving forward at a fair old speed while my till wasn’t doing much. Strange because the four people in front of me had only a sparse collection of goods and in till number 2 each of their people had a good selection of items.

Shortly after, crazy beehive woman seemed to be pretty much on a par with me and moments later was actually ahead. That checkout girl in aisle 2 was certainly doing the business. Up at the front of aisle 1 my checkout lady was far too chatty but not only that, something seemed to be going on up there and our checkout girl called over the checkout girl from aisle 2 to assist.

This didn’t go down well with the people from aisle 2 and crazy beehive lady clearly wasn’t happy as she was now stalled only a matter of feet from the till and freedom. Over on my side there was a battle under way to remove the security tag from a bottle of spirits, possibly vodka, but sadly checkout lady 2 gave up and returned to her till while we waited for the manager to sort out the security tag.

I felt like saying come on, do you really need a bottle of vodka at 2 in the afternoon but I kept silent and moments later, crazy beehive woman was off although not before shooting me a victorious look which seemed to say ‘that’ll teach you to nip in front of me at the checkout!’

Eventually, our till got sorted, the vodka bottle was freed up for sale and we moved on.

I knew that till was going to be a big mistake!

Floating in Space is a novel set in Manchester 1977. Click the links at the top of the page to buy or for more information.

Checking the Temperature and the British Summer

Posted on by Steve Higgins

This week’s post is an old one from 2014 but still relevant this summer!

Hot, boiling, sweltering, humid: Any way you look at it the UK is hot! We can’t complain about a rainy summer this year but in the UK we are just not prepared for heat. In Spain for instance it’s perfect for a hot, sunny, holiday. They have their cool outdoor pools, their outdoor bars and restaurants, and if we want to cool down more then we can go inside where traditionally built Spanish properties with their tiled interiors and whitewashed exteriors positively hug any coolness that might be about.

In the UK with our insulated walls and roofing, our houses seem to hug the warmth, it’s hotter in our homes than outside and when we leave our windows open to cool down you can guarantee some inconsiderate noisy sod will be playing his or her music far too loud, Well, that’s the British summer for you.

Something that really bugs me lately is the way the metric system has started to grip it’s clammy fingers around the UK media. When I’m watching a rather interesting documentary on the BBC I’m not interested in the least about how many metres long this or that is, or how many kilometres it is to there from here, I want to know it in feet and inches, I want to know in miles! I’m English and OK when I’m travelling in Europe I accept kilometres and KPH and do the mental adjustment but in the UK I shouldn’t have to do that. On the motorway I understand what it means when I hit the 300 yard marker to the next exit. I know what a yard is, I can visualise it. I understand that the next services are twenty miles away because I understand what a mile is and how long a mile is so don’t start putting kilometres on the motorway to confuse me!

image courtesy wikipedia

image courtesy wikipedia

And, coming back to the heat, when did all this Celsius start creeping in. The temperature today will be a maximum of twenty degrees? What is that about? If you are going to tell me the temperature tell me in the Fahrenheit that I have been  brought up with and understand then I know that seventy is hot and eighty is even hotter!

This is the time of year when the papers will say one day, it was hotter in Dartford that it was in Barcelona or hotter in Brighton than the Costa Del Sol! Interesting. Of course, they don’t say that happened on one day out of three hundred and sixty five or that the last time it happened it was 1973 but either way it’s still pretty interesting. But, and here’s something you should know, on the day the temperature  hits 37 degrees Celcius in somewhere like Blackpool the papers won’t tell you that. No, what they will say will be this ‘Temperature hits 100 degrees in Blackpool!’‘

Yes, the big one hundred, that’s Fahrenheit of course . .

Enjoyed this post? Well, if you did why not try my book, Floating In Space? Click the links at the top of the page for more information or HERE to go straight to Amazon!

 

16 Annoying Elements of 21st Century Life

Posted on by Steve Higgins

I have to admit, this isn’t a totally new post. Sometimes I struggle to think of something new and sometimes I have to update some old stuff. As you read this I should be tootling about France in a motorhome, depending of course on how welcome the English are considering the Brexit situation which is why I haven’t had chance to produce something new. Just wondering now about what to write for next week. . .

Anyway, this post appeared originally as 13 annoying things. Now I’ve thought of an extra 3!

    1. Irritating Internet Blogs. Not long ago, a blogger I follow published a post that was short and to the point It went pretty much like this:  My favourite Elton John track has to be ‘Tiny Dancer’. (I think it’s only fair to say at this point that names have been changed to protect the innocent. In this case, the name of the pop star!) Now you might think there would have been a photo included. No, there were no pictures. The writer could have done a search on google, clicked the box for images and ticked the ‘labelled for reuse’ tag and something copyright free would have appeared. No, he didn’t do that, no images. He could have also searched for a video of Elton performing Tiny Dancer and linked the video into his post. No, no such luck, just ‘my favourite Elton John track has to be Tiny Dancer.’ The thing is, last time I looked he had over twenty four likes and a shedload of views for something that wouldn’t have been out of place on a Facebook status post! Now, that gives me an idea for my next post: My favourite Kate Bush track is . . Whoa, wait a minute, don’t want to give my full post away before publishing!
    2. Annoying Websites. Here’s an example. The other day I clicked on a link which said ‘You’ll never guess what Victoria Principal looks like now!’ Victoria Principal was once one of the stars of Dallas back in the seventies or eighties, whenever it used to be on TV. She wasn’t my type but she was clearly a pretty and attractive young lady. Well, I wondered, what does she look like now? Anyway, I clicked on the link and was taken to a new page which took forever to load up and with my very fast iPad I wasn’t expecting that at all. After a while I was presented with a picture of a young girl from an American 70’s TV show looking about 15 in picture 1 and looking about 60 ish in picture 2. No sign of Victoria Principal but after scrolling through a shed load of advertising I was finally presented with a ‘next’ button. I clicked this and veerrryyyy slowwwwly another page loaded this time showing a seventies movie star in picture 1 and her somewhat older and chubbier 2017 self in picture 2. After battling through the interminable advertising to get to picture 3 I couldn’t stand the web page any longer so I exited the site. What is even more annoying though is this; I keep wondering what does Victoria Principal really look like now?
    3. Watching TV. Now this is more of a man thing than anything because women cannot multi task when it comes to TV watching. The art and science of TV watching is and always will be a purely man thing. Picture this: A man arrives home from a busy late shift, pours himself either (A) a beer (B) a glass of wine or (C) a glass of whisky, brandy or any other spirit.  He then combines this with either (D) a call to the local fast food delivery place or (E) whacks a slice of bread into the toaster. After settling down he might come across a James Bond film which he has seen approximately 35 times but He continues to watch it thinking, ‘this will keep me going until the adverts then I’ll flick through the channels to see if anything better is on’. Now here’s where the problem comes, you turn over in the adverts and unless you’ve turned to BBC 1 or 2, there are also adverts on the other channels! Why can’t the other channels schedule their ads at different times so there is always something for the channel hopper to watch? Is that so hard?
    4. david-essex-rock-on-cbsListening to the radio. Now I do like music and in years gone by I was a big singles man. I spent a lot of time in record stores flipping through racks of singles and I still have my record collection intact stored in big boxes. Not so long ago I got myself one of those turntables that you can connect to your pc so you can digitise your records. Technology: it’s just amazing. Of course I still hear records on the radio that I really like, just like the good old days but why is it that 21st century DJ’s don’t seem to bother telling us WHAT THAT RECORD ACTUALLY IS? As it is we will probably never hear that track again, so how can we actually buy or download it! Where do they get these DJ’s nowadays!
    5. Why is it that after an episode of your favourite soap on TV they then show you a clip of what’s going to happen next week! Don’t do that! We don’t want to know until next week when we are actually watching the show!
    6. This is yet another TV gripe: Why do they show part 1 of something then neglect to advise the viewing public when we can see part 2? Once upon a time if something was on a Thursday night at nine o’clock then it would be pretty much a certainty that part 2 would be on the following week at nine o’clock on a Thursday night. Is this the case in the 21st century? NO! I started to watch a cracking documentary on BBC4 the other day about O J Simpson. Excellent and informative. I expected to tune in the next week for part 2 but found out a couple of days later that the following parts were shown on subsequent days! People at the BBC -I am Not happy!
    7. Reality TV. What the heck is reality TV, who thought it up and how can I contact the mafia to put out a contract on them?
    8. Now I’m not really a grammar nut, at least not to the extent that I’ve joined the grammar police but there are people who put things on Facebook like ‘Wish I could of done that!’ It’s could HAVE done that you numpties!
    9. Telephone menus. Not so long ago I wanted to ask my mobile phone people a relatively simple question, so I dialled the number and I got through to a menu: Press 1 for accounts, 2 for phone problems, or 3 for network problems. Well it wasn’t any of those so I pressed 1 then got another menu. A two minute phone call escalated into half an hour of my life! If in doubt on any menu press the hash button, you usually get to speak with a real person. You can also try http://www.pleasepress1.com a website started by frustrated phone user Nigel Clarke with hints and tips for bypassing menus. Thinking of telephone menus, it reminded me of this joke: The psychiatrist’s answering machine that plays this message to callers: “We are very busy at the moment. If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly. If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you. If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6. If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call!” The oldies really are the best!
    10. Don’t you just hate those ‘what’s on next’ banners that come on your TV screen in the last few minutes of your programme? I don’t need banners! I’ve got a TV guide! There’s an on screen TV guide too!
    11. Why is it whenever it’s raining and I’m driving home from work on the motorway there is always one plonker hurtling down the outside lane with only one headlight working or worse still, one very bright headlight and another dim one! Get your lights sorted and don’t hog the outside lane you Plonker!
    12. MobileJunk phone calls. It’s bad enough getting junk mail but phone calls from people trying to sell you something just get on my wick, especially if you are forced to answer the call. For instance if you’re waiting for a call back from your bank or insurance company or something or even the guy who’s coming to fix your boiler. You see that unknown number on your phone screen, decide to take it, and surprise –it’s someone calling you about PPI refunds! Take a look at this blog on the subject.
    13. A pint of Mild. As I begin to approach the mature years of my life I find myself drawn to towards the darker beers that life’s brewery have to offer. I have been through my younger years with an array of ciders and refreshing amber lagers but these days I tend to fancy a Guinness, a stout, even a porter but where are these exotic beers to be found? Guinness is available in most pubs but what about the humble pint of mild? How many more times must I suffer the stunned look of the teenage barman when I ask ‘do you serve mild?’ Not only that but what has happened to one of my favourite pubs in St Annes?  The Number Fifteen pub Has now stopped serving the rather lovely Theakston’s mild! Not happy!
    14. Ripped Jeans. OK, accidents happen in life. Doing some work in the back garden and you trip over the mower and catch your jeans on something sharp. Oh well, that’s that pair of jeans consigned to garden or decorating duties, well, that’s my thinking anyway. For some other people who want to look trendy (or plain daft) then check out the new range of ripped jeans in your local fashion emporium. We went through some crazy fashions in the seventies, penny round collars, kipper ties and so on but ripped jeans, brand new jeans that are . . ripped? Do me a favour!
    15. DVD Advertising. I do love cinema and I have quite an impressive DVD collection. I particularly like those 2 disc ‘special collectors’ versions that you get when they remaster some old classic and add in documentaries, features and interviews. What I really hate is when you buy a disc like that, press play and get some advert for a film you are not in any way interested in. Not only that, sometimes you can’t even exit the ads which is doubly annoying!
    16. Hallowe’en. What on earth is that about and how has it descended like a plague on modern life? When I was a school boy back in the 1960s and early 70s I had never even heard of Hallowe’en but nowadays hordes of kids and youths hammer on my door and beg for sweets and other goodies. Go away and don’t mither me especially when I’m relaxing with a glass of red with some classic film on TV. Personally I blame the Americans!

If you liked this post, why not try my book, Floating in Space? Click the links at the top of the page for more information or here to go to my amazon page!

Make a Million Pounds in the next 5 Minutes!

Posted on by Steve Higgins

What I should say, and perhaps it’s foolish of me to say this so early on, is that I didn’t say How to make a million pounds in the next 5 minutes. I just said ‘make a million pounds in the next 5 minutes’. Subtle I know but different.

Those readers who have now sadly departed were clearly those of a mercenary nature who just wanted an easy pay out, sorry folks. It might be possible somehow to make a quick million, I don’t know. Perhaps some property investor might do it. Not the normal property investor of course, more someone in the Gordon Gekko bracket perhaps or some millionaire Hollywood real estate dealer.

I’ve just been reading an article about how a blog title can pull in the readers and this one of course will do just that, at least for a few lines after which the reader will think, OK, I’m off, I need to find that million somewhere else.

Those recently departed blog readers must understandably be a little frustrated. Blog posts and their titles can be a little annoying. Here’s another one. You’ll be amazed at how Victoria Principal looks today! I have to say I was pretty interested in that post. Victoria Principal was one of the stars of the TV show Dallas back in, well whenever it was, probably the 1980’s. She was a rather good looking girl and I must admit to clicking on that link, wondering what she looks like nowadays.

The link led to one of those really annoying websites that have about twenty or thirty pages. Page one was a lady from some 70’s TV show who today looks rather overweight. Scroll on down past the numerous adverts and we get to a ‘next’ banner. Click that and here we are on page 2, no mention of Victoria Principal yet but here are some pictures of another star, this time a child star from some 80’s film. OK. Interesting, well fairly interesting but what about Victoria?

Scroll down further past more advertising and there it is again: ‘next.’ Click that and here we are at page 3. Any sign of the lovely Victoria? Of course not! Did I eventually arrive at something that in any way amazed me or was remotely related to Victoria Principal? No, because after about five minutes I just got bored and started searching for something else.

A long time ago when I was a teenager one of my very first jobs was as an accounts clerk. One day there was the hum of excitement in the office and my colleagues and I were advised of the imminent arrival of a million pound cheque.  As I was only a mere teenage accounts clerk,  I was running low on the pecking order to see this cheque, although it was actually my job to process it as I did with all the other cheques that came into the department. In due course, one of the very senior managers came down with the cheque and with great reverence it was handed to my boss Mr Ross. Mr Ross perused the cheque for a while along with a small clique of other managers and then conveyed it to the senior clerk, Mr Elliott. After marvelling at this great artefact for a few moments, he then passed the cheque to me. Numerous staff members from our and neighbouring departments also came to take a peek at this financial wonder which I believe, was the result of the company either selling off our sister company, Federated Assurance, or doing some fabulous property deal.

Anyway I did my job and duly entered the cheque into the ledger then put it in the safe ready to go down to banking prior to three PM, as in those days, banks closed at three PM. ‘Good heavens’, declared one of those senior managers, ‘we can’t just leave the cheque there, it must go straight to the bank!’ So I was despatched on a special journey to the bank for this very special cheque. Actually that suited me quite well. After paying the cheque into the local bank I sauntered round the corner to the sandwich shop, ordered sausage on toast and made my way quietly back to work via the newsagents. Just as I arrived back in the office I realised that the senior management staff were still there, waiting for news. Were there any problems? What had happened? They seemed rather disappointed when I told them that no cataclysm had occurred, the bank had not come to a standstill but the million pound cheque had been routinely deposited. Thinking back, I’m not sure I liked the way they were looking at me, perhaps they knew all along I’d been to the sarnie shop!

By now I suppose I must have one or two pretty disappointed readers. Five minutes gone and no million bucks and no Victoria Principal. Think about it though, just what would you do with a million pounds? Well, for me I’d probably start off by going down to Wetherspoon’s for a pint. I might even see some of my cronies in there, Colin, Dougie, Nick and probably Graham. Now they always stick together in a round so they’d be probably be surprised when I bought a round in. Still I reckon these days a million pounds might not last long as we might think so it might be in order to say to myself ‘steady on Steve, just hold on with that round of drinks for a minute’.

Next I might be thinking about a new motor. My trusty Renault Megane has over 130,000 miles on the clock and it’s a diesel, which a few years ago the government were encouraging us to buy, now it’s the other way, they want us to get rid of diesels!

I kind of fancy one of those chunky 4×4 off roader type motors; you know what I mean, a station wagon with a big area in the back to chuck things in. Not actually sure what I’d chuck in there. Maybe I could put my bike in there and drive out to some sort of biking track. Of course that’s something that normally I would never do but with a station wagon the possibilities are opening up before me.

LOS ANGELES, CA – DECEMBER 20: Victoria Principal seen shopping at James Perse in Malibu on December 20, 2011 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by JB Lacroix/WireImage)

What else could I do with a million? Well, a new laptop springs to mind. Wait a minute, I’ve got a million pounds, I need to think big, really big, not just cars and computers, not just beers and bicycles. I could get a plane ticket to the USA. I could even go round to Victoria Principal’s place and find out just what she actually looks like now!

Floating in Space is a novel by Steve Higgins set in Manchester, 1977. Click the links at the top of the page to buy or for more information.

 

Prefer not to Say

Posted on by Steve Higgins


I sometimes wonder just what is happening to us in the 21st century world of free speech, the politically correct world of free speech that is. In this mad world there are just certain things that you can’t say and certain things you can’t criticise without someone accusing you of sexism, racism or basically any other kind of ‘ism’! Then again, my mother always used to say, never talk about politics or religion and you’ll get on fine.

Religion.

This week Boris Johnson is in the news for saying that Muslim women in burkas ‘look like letterboxes’ and the whole world, or so it seems is up in arms because this means that jovial Boris is Islamaphobic! He wrote the comments in a newspaper article and I thought he was just trying to take a serious subject and inject some good old British humour, pretty much just like this blog post. How wrong I was!

On the other side of the political divide, Jeremy Corbyn and the Labour party are not exempt from allegations either. Not allegations of Islamophobia but this time antisemitism.

These allegations seem to stem from a speech made by Ken Livingstone, the former London mayor, who mentioned in a speech that Hitler was, or so he thought, a Zionist. A Zionist, as far as I know, is someone who believes in a Jewish homeland and Hitler appeared to believe in that for a time, as it was a way to get the Jews out of Nazi Germany but then in his madness he went one step further and with Himmler and the SS created the Holocaust, an attempt to wipe out the entire Jewish race.

I’m not quite certain what Livingstone was trying to get at or what point he was trying to make but the Labour party is still suffering from these allegations even though Ken Livingstone has been expelled from the party, which is a shame because I always thought he was an interesting and articulate politician.

One other element of this situation concerns an international ‘definition’ of antisemitism which Labour has declined to accept, as this definition severely limits any kind of criticism of Israel and its current attitude towards the Palestinians. So not adopting this definition is hardly anti-Semitic, it is just a choice made by reasonable men. Some people think the whole thing is a stick which the right wing of the party are using to attack Jeremy Corbyn with, as he is seen by some as too left wing. Oh well, that’s politics for you.

Sexuality

Today, British and Western society are pretty tolerant of others’ sexual preferences. I remember years ago, seeing a programme on TV in which the sexual antics of the late MP Alan Clark were being discussed and someone, I forget who, in fact it may have been just an ordinary member of the public, answered this to a question about Clark’s numerous affairs. ‘At least he wasn’t a poufter!’

Personally, and it may be politically incorrect to admit this, I found it rather funny. Today when at least one MP I know of and another ex-minister are rather fond of Brazilian rent boys, Alan Clark’s antics are perhaps hardly worthy of comment.

The other day I sat down with my tea to watch channel 4’s Dinner Date. Now this isn’t one of the great TV shows of all time, in fact it’s pretty tame really but I do like it, even though it’s something I really only watch when I settle down to eat my tea. It’s a pretty simple format; a man or woman sits down to scan through five possible dinner menus devised by five possible dinner dates. Only three can be chosen so then the fellow, or the lady, meet with three blind dates, each serving him/her a home cooked meal as per the menu. At the end of the show, the diner chooses one of their dates to take to a restaurant for a proper date. Sometimes all turns out well, sometimes not. At the end of each show there’s a little teaser, John and Janet exchanged phone numbers, but haven’t seen each other again. My favourite was when Terry and Angela had another date then moved in with each other!

Anyway, I know I’m rambling on so I’ll get to the point. The other week I was watching it and the guy was looking through his menus and then the first blind date comes on to introduce the meals and it was another man. Yes, it was a gay version. A gay man chooses three gay dates and hopes to find love.

Sorry but it wasn’t my cup of tea so I turned it off.

Judge

You turned the programme off Mr Higgins?

Me

Yes your honour, I turned the programme off. I just wasn’t enjoying it.

Judge

So you just turned the programme off? Do you not realise that diversity should be welcomed?

Me

Well when it’s about a man and a woman it’s really quite a fun sort of programme but in this one when it was a man talking about other men that he fancies and what turns him on in a man; well it just wasn’t my cup of tea.

Judge

Mr Higgins are you a communist?

Me

Me? No your honour.

Judge

Mr Higgins are you now or have ever been a member of the Communist Party?

Me

What? No I’m not a communist I just didn’t like that particular episode. In fact I was discussing it with a couple of my friends and they didn’t like it either.

Judge

Was this a meeting? A communist party meeting?

Me.

No, not a meeting. Just me and some friends having a few pints.

Judge

Who were these friends? What are their names?

THE ACCUSED LOOKS ABOUT THEN RACES FROM THE COURTROOM, SECURITY PEOPLE HOT ON HIS HEELS.

Race.

Have I covered all the no go area of today’s sensitive society? No, there is one remaining issue which I really must tackle.

The other day I was listening to Radio 4. It was a programme discussing Boris Johnson. One lady being interviewed described herself as a woman of colour. I thought, what is that about? Perhaps it’s not politically acceptable to call yourself black these days, instead you must be a person of colour. I must be a little behind the times then with twenty first century PC speak but what does that make me then as a white person? Am I a person of no colour? Clearly I do have some colour, in fact I’m usually rather pink although just lately after experiencing the hottest summer in the UK since 1976, I am really rather brown. Am I a brown person then?

Not so long ago I was filling in an application form for a new job. Towards the end of a form I came across another document about my racial identity. This of course is 21st Century UK not apartheid South Africa so the question took me a little by surprise. There were two obvious answers, one was White British and the other was White English. Anyway I finally found a third option which was the one I  decided to take.

It was prefer not to say.

If you have been offended by the content of this blog, well I’m not sure what I can do about it. You could go for a lie down or maybe even go for a quick pint down at your local. If you need counselling please call somebody. I’m not sure who but you could always have a look in the phone book.

Steve Higgins is the author of Floating in Space, a novel set in Manchester, 1977. Click the links at the top of the page for more information.