iPod Fun.

Had an interesting few days back home. Due to the adverse weather, every plane and train I boarded was delayed, but not enough to spoil the trip and anyway, I think it´s all rather festive. Only problem was that I was just about the only one to actually make it to Blackpool for our mini reunion, so I was glad that Pauline and Sid from Leeds made it and acted as my surrogate parents for the weekend. Visited a few good friendly clubs, - hat´s off to “The Comrades Club”, “The Duple”, “North Shore Sports and Social Club” and of course “The Royal British Legion”.


Just bought a brand new i-Pod due to the fact that the last one I purchased from up the Benidorm Old Town was possibly one of the worst pieces of electrical equipment I ever came across. The only way you could change the track was to push the volume button (the volume couldn´t be altered once you´d turned it on), the music was really loud but the vocal sounded like the lead singer was wailing from a bathroom three doors away through a tin can, and once you´d charged the battery it had the life expectancy of the equivalent of a midge with emphysema. And then it packed up altogether after 3 weeks.

This was a cheap model though, so I upgraded to the standard “Apple Shuffle”. The only thing with the Apple is that you have to upload the songs through “i Tunes” which I haven´t used for years. Think it´s fair to say that I haven´t quite got the hang of it. The thing is that when I downloaded “i-Tunes” it automatically looked for music already on my computer and it managed to dig up from the very basement vault of my PC some sound effects, some of which I have used at work from time to time. Somehow it mixed these along with the songs that I wanted to place on the i-Pod, - I was totally unaware of this until I got to the gym this morning. The resulting mish-mash was that of high comedy and I struggled like hell not to laugh out loud. I don´t know if it was because it was so unexpected, or the sheer inappropriateness of the sounds compared to my archaic song choice, although this wasn´t always the case, - indeed I didn´t at first cotton on to what was happening and some bird “dawn chorus” sounds and applause effects didn´t sound at all out of place, and the gunfight after The Who´s “My Generation” was an inspired choice. The “Clown Car” effect (which is a series of squeaks, wobbly wheel noises and high pitched horn sounds) just before The Clash´s "London Calling" was a corker, as was the rasping fart after “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police. Another thing was, I didn´t happen after every song, maybe every third or fourth one which kept me on my toes, and after a while even the most non comical sounds had me spluttering behind the back of my hand. The tapping of a hammer before “You´re an Embarrassment” by Madness, and the industrial vacuum cleaner pre empting “Going Underground” by The Jam for example.
 As I neared the end of my workout I plonked myself on a seated cycling machine just as a loud foghorn acted as the intro to Bonnie Tyler´s Lost in France. As I put in a final spurt as the finish line homed into view, the sound of a thundering steam train matched exactly the rhythm the piston action of my lower limbs and as I disengaged myself from the machine and stretched out to my full height a coiled spring sounded right on cue and made me guffaw as I swigged back several mouthfuls of water from my bottle. I´ve never had so much fun in a gym before. Indeed, when I think about the timings of these comic and totally accidental interjections – and let´s face it, re reading it, it sounds like some binned script from some dodgy sitcom from the 70´s, I wouldn´t be surprised if one of my dear departed mates from way back when, hadn´t been sat upstairs with the main man looking down on me today – and taking the piss!

November Fiestas

So that´s another November Fiesta done and dusted then. I quite enjoy them these days actually, now that I don´t do any cabaret shows that particular week, and I get dressed up the same as everybody else on “Fancy Dress Thursday”. It took me a couple of days to pluck up courage to buy me tights for Max Wall, but once I was in em I seemed to warm to the task – immediately forcing out the rump and assuming the pose of a startled battery hen with haemorrhoids.


This particular day was invented by the Brits and is not part of the official Spanish Fiesta at all, but I´ve noticed the Spanish pub owners are embracing it more and more these days. It´s probably the biggest boozy day of the year in fact, even out doing Christmas and New Year´s Eve for shear drunken debauchery. Would like to thank Maggie and her crew from Durham, “The Rat Catcher” and his lot and a fair few others for turning out at the Cumberland and making it a good day – even if half of our usual mob came a week early and missed it – check the bloody calendar next year!

Got another party to tackle on Sunday, it´s our last day before we close for our midwinter break (opening again the week before Christmas). We´re heading over to Blackpool for a couple of days on the pretext of organising our summer reunion for August, but in reality it´s just another excuse to meet up with some old amigos, - “Juke Box Johnny”, “Jimmy Knee caps”, “Kranky Keith” etc. etc. for a session in the British Legion of which we are most fond.

Pauline and Sid

The season´s they´re a changing, not only have I noticed that I can actually get to sleep underneath the duvet now and again but the local mossies are taking on a lethargic air these days. Last week one of the little bounders was gently gnawing away at my ankle bone, but had to stop after a couple of minutes for a fag and a sandwich before resuming on its merry way.

Pauline and Sid went home today. These two have been in the bar in the same two seats every afternoon and every night for a month, helping out glass collecting in busy times and acting as stooge to the Concert Chairman at others. - They also bring him the newspaper daily and a bag of sweets. Add to this that I don´t think they´ve ever missed one of my night time shows (where their party piece is to propel ping pong balls at my Cliff Richard caricature) and they are two of the most likeable, good natured and loveable couple you´re ever likely to meet, - we will surely miss their presence. I also like the fact that Sid refuses to wear his hearing aid. We were having a little impromptu quiz yesterday and the question was "What was Cambodia previously known as" - Sid thought for a second and then shouted "Malaria!" Still can´t quite work out what he thought the question was. I remember years ago when I was moving apartments and mentioned that in my new place the kitchen drawer was bare, sure enough next day I was presented with a brand new set of cutlery - typical. Sid´s an absolute star and Pauline has what was described by my ex girlfriend when first meeting her as having "a kind face".

There are others too, there´s a bloke called Jim who a couple of times a year brings me the "Northern Life" magazine and then disappears never to be seen again, another one brings me pigeon magazines (and badges), and packets of paracetamol-. Last week, another member - "Popeye" (ex sea fisherman) brought me in a homemade fish pie (which was superb), and there´s keith and Marion who bring me in giant bags of fruit and shower gel. Others bring in books, framed photographs and I´ve had models of the chairman made from the tin foil left over from someone´s kebab and one bloke from Bradford famously sent an oil painting of the chairman which always brought the house down when we brought it out, and it raised 45 quid when we did the auction for "Help for Heroes" at our Blackpool reunion by the way

Yes, it´s a special place to work is the old "Cumberland Ex-Servicemen´s Club", some wonderful people, laughs a plenty, and long may it continue.

"Ho-De-Bloody-Ho!"

News comes to me of me Uncle Eddie and Auntie Doreen who rolled back the years and went off to for a break at Pontin´s in Southport for old times sake. (We all went together there on holiday about 40 years ago). By the sound of things it hasn´t changed much since then, - not even the curtain material. Stories of  scabby wardrobes with one coathanger - and a spare for emergencies, and of an over zealous smoke alarm - Eddie had to waft it with a newspaper just so they could boil 2 eggs, had me chortling away and judging by his ensuing texts messages things didn´t improve over much.
"Just got ere, talk about bloody "He-Di-Hi". Place is tiny, can´t get electric on and wife doesn´t like it - hasn´t unpacked". Then later on that night. "Ballroom full of kids, - didn´t they used to march the little buggers out at 9pm? - we´re off to pub across the road.
Two hours later. - "Back in Ballroom, still full of kids, some arshole jumping about in a monkey suit - we´re off to bed". And then finally next day. "I´ve had enough, it´s pissing down and all they´ve got on is bloody Morris Dancing! - for about 5 hours. Off to club, not theirs - OURS.  We´re off home."
Weekend break eh? - aye, it certainly broke him alright.

New Season

Came back to Benidorm last week to find the flat without hot water and me telly blaring out to nobody in particular. The bloody thing had been on 2 months! Haven´t got the electric bill yet, though I have got one from “Telefonica” even though I haven´t had a phone line for the best part of 5 months.


September is a traditionally busy time in Benidorm and it´s been buzzing. Went to see the “Grumbleweeds” doing their last show at the UK Cabaret bar on Sunday, the place was packed and they were terrific. Long live “The Godfathers Of Comedy”.

Weather´s still a bit warm for me though, still haven´t managed to sleep underneath the duvet yet and the gym has been a nightmare. Think the air conditioning sucks instead of blows and sweat was dripping off the end of me nose as I was showing my membership card to that stroppy cow on reception. One dodgy moment in there today when I saw one elderly gent gingerly walking along in the adjoining swimming pool holding aloft a knotted plastic bag at arms length. Thought he must have discovered something rather unsavoury in the shallow end. (The old brown trout? The only fish that floats?), but it turned out to be his camera!! He then spent the next few minutes taking shots of his blubbery missus, - though thankfully the water came up to her shoulders revealing only her bloated red face and flowery swimming cap.

Show Us What Yer Made Of - But Don't Tread In It.

The bad news is that some local dog or other left us a little pile on our pathway today, - the good news is that a Jehova's Witness trod in it! Presumably on his way to deliver his sermon to our good selves. We didn't actually answer the door to him, but maybe we should have, as it proves to me there actually is a God after all.
Overheard conversation in the gym the other day. - "So, Mary, how's Trevor, is he not coming in today?".
"No, he's had to take the car into the garage.It broke down yesterday just outside Layton and he phoned me in a panic. He says "I've just broken down, - phoned the AA and they've refused to come out!". I said, "Well, they would do, we're in the RAC aren't we? - I mean how can you forget that?!" - I had to agree.

Although it's rained nearly every day since I've been here in Blackpool, I'm still loving it, especially the "Cumberland Bar Reunion" a couple of weekends ago. Oh how lovely to see Charlie No-Nuts, Tommy Sunfly, Big Babs, Dozey Dave from the day centre, Mad Mozzer the mad midget from Runcorn and all the rest of the loons.

Thou Talks Through Thine Arse

Went to the east coast this week and during this time I went to see "Midsummer Night's Dream" in Scarborough, - it was either that or The Chuckle Brothers. This was my first flirtation with a Shakespeare play, (though I have heard of him) and far from being bored to death, or distracted by the all modern Bear Pit like auditorium or flummoxed by the flowery language and costumes, - It just plain baffled the socks off of me!
The plot seemed a little complex and somewhat bizarre to say the least, and was a sort of, Doctor Who, Monty Python, with bits of the "Star Challenge" on the end of Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer's  Shooting Stars hybrid.
With all the "Thee's" "Tha's"  and "Don't bugger about's", it's obvious that Shakespeare was a Yorkshire man and it was only when it was spoken in a Yorkie accent that I could make head or tail of it. It was lucky then that the chap who played "Bottom" was indeed a Yorkshire man and his striking resemblance to a bloke called Frank who was a fellow Postman with me back in the early 90's was the sole reason that kept me riveted until well into the 2nd half.
It's a wonder then how a good proportion of the audience for whom English wasn't their first language managed to get their head round it (I distinctly heard Scandinavian, German, Japanese and at least one Geordie voice in there during the interval), but they all stayed to the end, laughed in all the right places and generally seemed to enjoy the experience.
Overall, I'm glad I went, if only to marvel at how the hell the actors manage to learn such vast chunks of script that doesn't actually make any sense at all, their skill at voice projection and annunciation and attention to detail - Puck was depicted as having a shocking case of Malaria for the whole play for some reason. Summing up then, I can honestly say it was an enlightening experience - but it'll be The Chuckle Brothers next time thank you.

Back Home For A Bit.

To be honest I was gasping to get back to England for me summer hols ever since the blast furnace weather showed up a couple of week back. It wasn't just that though, the Spanish celebrations at winning the World Cup had a strange effect on me. Don't get me wrong, I think they were the best team in it and were worthy winners and all that but all those fireworks, thunderflashes and honking of horns were great - for the first half dozen hours, but In the end I just stood at my open window propped up on my elbows rather like a German paratrooper caught up in V.E Day.
No such problems with the heat here in Blackpool then, was in the "Philharmonic Club" the other night and accosted by a bloke from Sheffield in an alarming long white cardigan with a hood on. Apart from doing Mavis Riley from Coronation Street impressions for no apparent reason he also felt obliged to tell me of his journey to Blackpool from the day previously. "Aye, - we allus come to Blackpool, me and Arnold, have done for 30 year, never have a problem getting ere. Then this year we had a Sat Nav fitted to't car and got lost! The voice just stopped talking like! Arnold went mad, I said it were nowt to do wi me! - said "All I know Arnold, is that we're 17 minutes away from where we should be, - that's it - What a bloody carry on!" And so it went on, and on........
Conversation with girlfriend yesterday: She says, "Is that a sty on your eye there? Me: "No, I don't think so, I can't feel anything, and anyway you only get them when you're a kid don't you?" She angrily replies "No, of course not, you get them when you get run over!" (Think she meant "run down") - She's half Spanish you know.

Thanks For The Memory Lads

So there we have it, it´s all over for another four years then eh! (should we qualify for Brazil 2014). More tears, more gut wrenching disappointment, more horror, more ineptitude and on this occasion – humiliation, - which is a new one.

Are the players overpaid? Yes, do they care as much as the fans? No. Are they happy to look themselves in the mirror today? Yes, probably. Do we need a manager who can actually communicate to his players in their own language? Yes (can you imagine an Englishman managing Italy? – though it might not be a bad call at the moment). Do we need a manager who is willing to change formation once it is apparent that we are getting murdered? Yes. The questions go on and on. And YES we need goal line technology, good God, we score few enough goals as it is without getting em chalked off because the linesman is looking the other way!

I´ve always taken my football very very seriously, - I don´t know why, I just feel ridiculously passionate about it and take every defeat personally. Yesterday was like coming home and finding somebody that you don´t like at work tucked up in bed with your wife. I once heard Rod Stewart say that once you get married and have kids you realize that the football results aren´t the most important thing in the world, - well, I never bothered with all that so it looks like I´m stuck with it.

When Frank Lampard´s “goal” was disallowed yesterday I admit to getting a tad disgruntled, there was the odd tantrum, a bit of “industrial language” and a bit of finger pointing at the big screen, I was a broken man, and when I eventually slumped down again into my seat, I was the owner of a broken heart – and watch strap.

Come on England cricket team!!!

Another Literary Masterpiece Overlooked

Best story of the last couple of weeks here in Benidorm was relayed to me by girlfriend´s mum Dorette recently. She has worked at the airport in Alicante for years and part of her duties is to inform irate British holidaymakers that their luggage is in fact overweight, and if they´re not prepared to cough up the excess charge they have to unload enough unwanted items so as to satisfy the check-in-gate scales. So, as is usual there is a pile of dirty laundry, half empty shower gels and semi squirted, shaving foams toothpaste tubes and shampoos. As she is poking about in this stinking pile of unwanted household castoffs with pointed finger and turned up nose, she comes across – per chance under a lonesome sweaty sock - one of my books!! – “Chasing the cheese – a year in the life of a Benidorm class B celebrity” to be exact. Hey-ho.


As I write this am listening to one of the local English language radio stations, it´s a Sunday morning religious sort of thing and one of the presenters has just said, “Now, this is a difficult subject, - but some people don´t know what to do over here when you die”. – Would have thought opting for lying down and turning blue is the favourite, no matter what country you´re in?

"God Give Me Strength".

Well done to “Telefonica” once more, who have once again brought me to boiling point for the umpteenth time since I moved here. Not content with arsing me around for days on end when I first got the phone line connected (so´s I could have broadband). They have now inexplicably been round and changed my phone number, - I haven´t got the slightest inkling why they did this, everything was working fine as it was. But now of course, my internet connection has gone south and when I got in touch with the local paper who provide my connection package they sounded as baffled as me. After some thought they said that I could either try and phone them and try and get my old number back, or to keep the new number and start all over again – 5 to 10 days waiting time. I plumped for the latter, as the first option would include having one of those useless, incompetent, bumbling toe rags round here again, and frankly, if I catch sight of one of their vans outside my gaff again I´ll simply pull the curtains, hide under the sink and per chance lob a grenade out of the window.

On a lighter note I recently read Paul Daniels autobiography, which was a surprise, not least because it isn´t called “You´ll like this – but not a lot”. He´s got some good working men´s club stories in there, of which this is one –
“It was also time to change my name, Ted Daniels as it was often mis pronounced by concert secretaries as Ted-d-d Daniels (with a stutter) or it became one word – Tedaniels. A very good act called “Les Pollux” I once heard being pronounced as “Lez Bollocks” (as if it were a man´s name). When the concert secretary had his attention attracted by the band, they tried to tell him that it was in fact the French pronunciation “Lay”, and that there was two of them. - He turned back to the microphone, apologised and then announced them as “The two bollocks”.

"Has Anybody Seen My Quiche?"

The quiet week leading up to Easter and resultant sparse work commitments meant me going back to Blackpool and being acquainted with my girlfriend´s new dog – he´s the biggest pup I´ve ever laid eyes on - a sort of Pit Pony/hearth rug cross called Rigsby. He´s quite an endearing chap actually and fairly agile for his size has he proved when managing to scoop out the leftover half of my cheese and onion flan off the top of the oven when I wasn´t looking.


Also in Blackpool were Nigel and Yvonne from the Cumberland Bar and we met up for a livener in the British Legion on Friday afternoon, this short liaison was stretched to a walk down the road to the “Catholic Club” on Queens Street where a delightfully grumpy Glaswegian bloke kept us entertained as he battled the drunken locals who were coerced by him into a game of “Hoy” which is a sort of playing card bingo with no rules (or so it seemed to us). Whilst on our travels we bumped into a couple of our members from the Cumberland Ex-Servicemen´s Club –“ Jimmy kneecaps” and “Jukebox” Johnny. – Much laughter and jollity ensued and we just sort of lost track of time.

Unfortunately for me the day after was set aside for a house removal of Nikki´s gear from a flat in the town centre to a house on an estate in Bispham and, as I´d woken up feeling awful and gradually deteriorated from there, I was eventually reduced to a shambling (and retching) wreck and she was lucky that the new sofa bed arrived in the same colour that it was when it set off.

The wonderful array if characters in England´s premier tourist spot constantly amuse me, and apart from the eccentric oddballs found in the clubs, I bumped into a chap ambling down the street with a ferret on his shoulder. And do you know what, - I´m not certain that he knew it was there.

Back in Benidorm now where tomorrow night I look forward to trying to entertain the backs of necks of the massed ranks in “Sinatras” as they crane their heads towards the Manchester United Bayern Munich champions league quarter final being played out on the widescreen television to stage left. I can´t wait.

"I Am A Singer - Therefore I Out Rank You"

Had an action packed night at “Sinatras” the other night, an otherwise wonderfully attentive and suitably engrossed audience of senior citizens were shaken to their core every few minutes by a vociferous Manchester United fan watching the widescreen television near the stage. I was warned before hand by the act that preceded me that he was in fact mentally handicapped which made it next to impossible for me to shout him down. So I, along with the audience had to grin and bear it as a series of joyous expletives echoed around the shocked arena every time they scored (they won 4-0). The first one was a shrill “Get in there you f×××××g beauty” followed by a bellowing “Oooooh you t××t!! – presumably aimed at the referee. I did my best to ignore him, but my god it was difficult.

At the end of my show I come out as Eric Morecambe and mime to “Bring me sunshine”, I immediately see a bloke sat in the front row with a haircut not unlike that of Ernie Wise only darker. I thought it would be a wheeze to lift up the front of his fringe as Eric would do with Ernie pretending he was wearing a wig. The only problem was that it really was a wig! – and although it didn´t come away in my hand exactly it definitely moved a bit, and I at once realized my error as the texture between my forefinger and thumb felt something akin to horse hair and the look of sheer terror on the bloke´s face rendered me rigid for a split second. I could see a look of complete helplessness in his eyes and a plea deep in his pupils which said “Please don´t do this” – I felt awful, - especially when it transpired he was Belgian and wouldn´t have had a clue who Eric Morecambe was, and thus rendering the hair tweaking meaningless to him. He must have just thought I´d spotted the fact that he was wearing a rug and gone for it to take the piss. – Sorry mate.

Meanwhile at the “Cumberland Bar” keyboard player Andy Davies has been packing em in on Wednesday nights. Only problem is some of the “Singers” need a small step ladder to climb down from their own arse, and one such elderly gent fitted snugly into this pigeon hole. When he started to advertise that his friend did a spot in a bar on the beach front and that everybody was welcome, Nigel - the owner politely requested him to refrain as we have our own karaoke of an afternoon and he didn´t want his customers coaxing away thank you very much. Our superstar friend didn´t take kindly to this and shouted something along the lines that karaoke is for lesser mortals who probably couldn´t sing properly in the first place and are a somewhat inferior breed of person altogether. This view was not universally accepted and resulted in much muttering in the ranks from our loyal members and when one of our regulars, Terry from Leeds got up to sing he gave a small speech. With piercing eyes and flared nostrils he directed his gaze directly at the irksome little turd. “Can I just say that my kids and grand kids come in here singing karaoke, they are made to feel welcome and have a great time. Also,I happen to know that Joe Longthorne one of the great singers of our time, spends hours on the karaoke, he loves it, says it brings singers of all types together..........................and I, er... don´t like your trousers neither!!” – ( he was sporting a pair of those comical creme slacks, the belt of which hangs snugly somewhere just below the nipples). – His response to this outburst was “Well, we should discuss this outside” and our hero Terry countered – “Yes, we can go outside – but we won´t be discussing it!!” – And we go on about the youth of today!

I must stress that I wasn´t present during all of this and Nigel recounted the events to me this afternoon as I started my shift – the “And I don´t like your trousers neither” line had me in convulsions.

Broadband Saga - Part 1

Ivé decided to get a phone line installed so that I can have broadband which will mean I can download more than half a clip on “You-tube” before my computer slows to jurassic speed and thus converting my life into slow motion.The “Dongle” system is hopelessly one paced and went off all together for a week and a half recently.


The chap from “Telefonica” rolled up last Friday but couldn´t do a thing because we couldn´t locate the junction box – or the porter, who could´ve possibly pointed us in the right direction. He said that he would come back next morning “Between 9 and 10”, so I dutifully waited in even though I knew he wouldn´t be there – especially with it being Saturday – which I had initially overlooked, - which indeed so had he – obviously. So I then waited in on Monday – and nothing – until 1:45pm when he phoned me to say he´d be with me in “15 minutes”. An hour later he polled up and I informed on the intercom to stay down stairs and I would show him the where the junction box was (I´d meantime asked the porter in my pidgin spanish of its whereabouts – he regarded me with bewilderment before answering in English). When I got down there he was nowhere to be seen so I rushed back up the stairs to see him grinning at me outside my door.I practically took him by the hand and led him back down the stairs and to the junction box which resembled a severe explosion in a spaghetti factory. I then told him that I was due in work in 10 minutes and how long would he be, this seemed to baffle him and he then informed me that he had left a tool he needed back at base. “How long” I pleaded. “15 minutes” he replied (I think that “15 minutes” was the only English he knew). Luckily our barman Dave who was in the bar on a social visit agreed to babysit him whilst I went about my shift, and had to wait a further 2 hours for our friend to return and finally install the line. Well, at least that´s done, only problem is “Telefonica” have me down as flat 11B instead of 3B, and when I informed the internet company of this (who have been organizing all this) the girl said “Oh, dont worry about that´cos “Telefonica” work to a different map to the rest of the country”!! – Now, whilst I can fully believe that scenario, unless the postman is also working to their exclusive map, flat 11B are going to receive my bills right? – I´ll let you know. – I´m still waiting for the internet connection by the way.

We´ve Got Film Star´s Coming In Now!

Into the depths of the winter season now, and although work isn´t as plentiful as it once was the stuff that I´ve got left is hugely enjoyable. The Cumberland Ex-Servicemen´s Club throws up the usual array of characters, the latest being a slightly portly gentleman who wanted to jump the singers queue for the karaoke. When the Concert Chairman told him that this was not at all possible he produced a battered old black and white photograph of Sylvester Stallone insisting that it was one of him taken at an earlier date. This was no joke and he did indeed believe he WAS the Hollywood film star, and when he took his turn, he refused to sing until we played “Eye Of The Tiger” as his intro, he loved this and shadow boxed his way on to the stage uttering an expletive with every wayward punch. (He sang a bit like Sylvester Stallone come to think of it).


Whilst sharing a “dressing room” with the girls who do the Abba tribute show in “Sinatras” the other week, one of them asked how the audience were, as I had just come off, - I said they were fine. “Yes, I was told off by standing in the way of someone whilst you were on” said one. Whilst her mate chipped in, and without a hint of malice “No, they were complaining cos they couldn´t see the football on the tele”. Showbiz eh.

The latest venture is a Saturday sports radio show on FabFm Spain that I do with Nigel from the “Cumberland Bar”, this is a joy to do, and the 2 hour show is rounded off in the company of “The Voice Of Reason” – The Concert Chairman, spouting off and proving once and for all he knows absolutely everything about nothing. This available on the internet on www.fabfmspain.com

"Let It Snow, Let It Snow, let It Snow..."

Had my first “White Christmas” since I was a lad, went back home for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, with flight delays and cancellations to the left and to the right of me, somehow managed to land on to the ice cap otherwise known as “Leeds Bradford Airport” the same day I set off. True we had to circle above the thing for a good half hour wondering if we dare plummet down through the clouds and take a chance but we made it the end, and I was only about half an hour late getting to the pre arranged rendezvous down the pub. Night time was a glorious throwback in time at “The Club” playing snooker with the boys, went for a return stint next day before dinner then the usual “Turkey with all the trimmings” – (why do we say that when the trimmings are on the wall?), before slumping on the sofa to the tried and trusted method of playing charades with my nearest and dearest whilst squinting at the box at the same time. (A bit of return to form for the “Royle Family” I thought).


Boxing Day had to dash back to Benidorm for my afternoon shift down the “Cumberland Ex-Servicemen´s Club” which was packed with many a familiar face and a good knees up was had by all. New years Eve was another sell out and yet another liver savaging until about 6am meant I´d reached the end of me tether. Just when I was about to hit the de-tox button Leeds United only go to Old Trafford and knock Man United out of the FA Cup, so damn it all I had to start all over again!

Another new venture, as on Saturday me and Nigel from the “Cumberland” embark on our brand new sports show on “FabFM Spain” radio station,(available on tinternet 5 til 7pm) Think we´re gonna enjoy this, - should be a giggle, as it´s right up our street, - well, not exactly – it´s in Alfaz Del Pi, but you know what I mean.