Blackpool Annual Reunion

Another cracking reunion weekend in Blackpool, for me the most enjoyable few days of the year.


It´s a treat to see so many lunatics gathered together in the common cause, the cause being to maintain friendships forged from so many boozy trips to Benidorm over the years in our little pretend Working Men´s Club land.

Although Blackpool is without doubt a little rough around the edges, its inhabitants never fail to amuse. Whether it be one Hotelier telling one of our gang “The rooms are so small we don´t bother to clean them” or at my favourite cafe - note on toilet door – “If the light doesn´t come on just brush your hand over the bulb”. Also, “Well, you can have chips or boiled potatoes but we´ve got no mash”, the logic is sometimes lost on me but the sincerity isn´t. I love em.

I´m now continuing to appear in the “Wheeltappers Karaoke Show” at the Catholic Club, Queen St Blackpool every Sunday afternoon and alternate Saturday nights until November 10th.

Graham Walker

All genuinely nice people should be allowed to live until they´re a hundred, if you´re genuinely nice and are a comic genius to boot then you should be allowed to live forever – no questions asked.


There´s a risk of this blog turning into a monthly obituary column, but all my heroes seem to be dying at once. First Norman Collier, Eddie Braben, and now, before his time, Graham Walker from The Grumbleweeds.

He´d made me laugh as a kid (I watched all the TV series and listened avidly to all “Grumbleweed” radio programmes) and made me laugh even more as an adult. That was the beauty of the man, he came from an era whereby you had to entertain across the generations, not like now where you have specialist kids entertainers and comics who do adult stuff.

I saw “The Weeds” live many times, from back in the day when they were five of them, then down to three and finally when they were a double act when Graham performed with fellow founder member Robin Colville. Each and every time without fail I loved them, mainly because of Graham.

They visited here in Benidorm many a time to perform, and I bumped into them in the street once. Graham was from my corner of the world and he told me excitedly about an Indian Takeaway he´d just purchased just around the corner from where I was born, also mentioning gleefully that he´d just purchased a pair of jeans from the market" for 2 euros"! He asked me about where I was working and if I was doing alright (even though he didn´t know me from Adam). He was just making idle chat, and I remember thinking what a lovely gentle man he seemed but more than that I recall having to stifle a laugh as he was seriously funny without even trying – and when he did try – well, he was simply brilliant.

R.I.P Norman Collier

One of the greats for me, and never as famous as he should have been. The last time I saw him live he was well into his eighties and the ravages of time had slowed but not diminished his talent. His approach to the microphone was laboured but if anything this added to the humour and by the time he shambled to the front of the stage I was already in hysterics. They said that about Tommy Cooper didn´t they? That he could have you in convulsions without saying a word? Well he certainly had me going that night, so much so that the couple behind me complained that I was “moving about and making too much noise”. I apologised and promised never to laugh again. That however proved impossible and although I never met him I hear he was just as whacky in “real life”.


I heard Bobby Ball on a radio interview saying that when he was new to showbiz he was partnered with Norman in a charity golf event. On the second hole he was alarmed to hear a commotion coming from the deep bunker beside the green “Bobby, Bobby.........I´m being attacked by a snake.........get help!” When Mr. Ball rushed to his aid he found him writhing about on the deck, gasping, and kicking at the sand with a hosepipe round his neck!

When I heard the news of his death I felt the same way as I did when Eric Morecambe and Les Dawson died. Although you´ve never met these people you just prefer the world with them in it.
R.I.P Norman.

ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I don´t think I´ve had this much spare time since........well last summer actually (and every summer for 15 years, - though that´s about to change). I´ve started watching the snooker on Eurosport, but the commentary is in German and it takes all the pleasure out of it (it always sounds like they´re commentating on a state funeral – and last night’s final of the The Welsh Open was about as exciting as one).


Two things made me laugh this week. First off, whilst playing the part of the Chairman in the Cumberland Bar, our club steward Nigel came up to me and said “Charlie Donuts wants to sing, can you get him up?” I didn´t have a clue who he was talking about. It suddenly dawned on me that he meant Charlie from Wakefield – we call him “Charlie No-Nuts” because of his impressive falsetto. When I worked this out I had to cover up a big fat cheesy grin and bury my face into my hands (The Chairman isn´t allowed to show any signs of pleasure you see).

Secondly, walking down “Dog shit alley” a couple of days ago one of the old guys who does a bit of begging was out early – it was market day, and had brought two dogs with him for the statutory sympathy vote. He cut an awkward figure mind as he´s wheelchair bound (well, he is on market days), and he held the dogs uneasily at arm´s length by their leads with one hand whilst propelling himself along with a grubby wheel with his other. He was a damn sight more uneasy when the two hounds caught sight of a bedraggled moggie crossing the road and they tore down the pathway dragging him along panic stricken, his matted hair flopping in the wind and shouting madly like something from the chariot race from Ben Hur.

“January, sick and tired you’ve been hangin on me, you make me sad with your eyes, you’re telling me lies, ......don’t go, don’t go....”

Enjoyed Christmas and new year here in Beni, and for the first time in years I went out for a Christmas drink with some of the club committee, Foggy Buckley, Compo Whatmore, Bomber Brown, Calamity Claire and Chucklin Bob. One perk at least of my drastically reduced workload. The Concert Chairman spends most of his time up his allotment now though still keeps me entertained when I bump into him. Yesterday he said. “Elsie’s gerrin worse! She cheerfully informed me today that on’t news it said that Heathrow Airport had been brought to a standstill by Paul Weller! Turns out it were “Poor weather”.

FIESTAS!!

This is always one of the strangest times of the year for me as we go from the joyous and noisy fiestas to the quietest times of the year within a few short days. It´s always tickled me that the November Fiestas have a totally different meaning depending on whether you happen to be British or Spanish. Up in the old town we have the spectacular parades, dancing, singing, endless stalls and funfairs, the very heart of fiesta land in fact, the Brits however seem to be blissfully unaware of this. And now they have created their own fiesta. – Fancy Dress Thursday. This comes the day after the end of the official one. This is a day like no other in Benidorm, so big in fact that the Spanish have also began to embrace it – they don´t have much choice! Starting mid afternoon along “The Square” hundreds and hundreds of middle aged drunks gleefully waddle together in an orgy of playful spontaneity as they wrestle with huge masks, ample Disney skins, over taught suspender belts (men AND women), chunky head dresses and swinging rubber male dongs to a throbbing soundtrack of 70´s pop. – Terrific stuff!!


P.S. – On a personal note my Spanish Matador´s gear didn´t feel right once my black tache dropped off through damp to the top lip and I slunk away sober after 2 hours.

Mind Yer Backs Am Coming Through.

Well we´ve now come full circle at I´m back at the Cumberland Bar in Benidorm and I have to say it feels like Ivé hardly been away, - well let´s face it, I hardly have! Doing Mondays and Wednesday afternoons plus Thursday nights at the mo.


It´s been a busy old time of late, what with commuting from here to Blackpool every weekend to team up with my old mates and ex Cumberland bar owners Nigel and Yvonne. We have now taken residence in The Catholic Club on Queen St. And we´re loving it! We are there Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons until the end of the illuminations at the beginning of November. We bumped into an old chap in the Tower Ballroom clicking his “bones” along with the Mighty Wurlitzer last week, we quickly informed him that he´d passed his audition for us and he duly turned up on the Sunday afternoon to do his stuff. There could be trouble at mill though cos we´ve already got a resident “bone” player in there and they paced around each other like a couple of starving wolves for a while until they backed off. – Next week we´re thinking of introducing a “bone-off”