Millom in the Dock Read online

  ‘THE ADVERTISER’

  TIDE COMES IN … THEN GOES OUT AGAIN.

  and ...

  King Arthur discovers VAT, and smiles widely.

  League female player shaves moustache but breaks razor.

  Farmer’s daughter attempts to shave legs, but breaks reinforced cut throat.

  Reverend Joe (Isaacs) seen carrying large marble statue into house?

  Millom Operatic Society Member remembers lines in the King and I.

  Policeman spotted looking interested in END OF LINE town after winning fifteen grand hurt feelings money.

  Offer for Millom Express from Richard Branson.

  Job centre staff demands Sou’westers for climbing on the roof in Wintery conditions.

  Barrow in Furness people jealous of Millom book.

  The freelance reporter was Togo, and the speller was Brick’s Mum and sister Viv ... married to the Lord of Queens Park, Derek Morris. (If I get in as many names as possible, they will never find a Court house big enough).

  Anyway that’s the Local Millom hero and one of the best friends I ever had. Up t’t Nuwrrth …

  That was painless. Stephen is now almost famous I hope.

  He died in a motorcycle accident this year, 2012 ... I’m not a believer in death, I know we go on with none of this ‘rest in peace’ nonsense ... so, as a final parting shot (for now) ... Sharpy was famous for his chin, so, hence a cremation ... how the hell would they have managed to get the coffin lid on otherwise? Well?

  There is one more little funny I have just had clear info about concerning my car. As I write this, it is the eleventh of Jan, 2014, so this has been going on for a while. I contacted an old friend of mine, David Gabbert and his wonderful and beautiful wife Sue back up there in Millom. He travelled with Sharpo, myself and in this case ... well, here it is, I think it’s funny anyway.

  One morning when attending college in Workington, I, the driver, get into my Renault 4, a car which resembled a bread van, whose gear stick came out of the dashboard; something that always bemused Sharpy to the tune of “How the fuck do you drive this thing Frankie?”. An old friend of mine Dave Gabbert (a really nice guy) was on board and someone else, a Mr Heasley I can’t remember ... and, as the stereo didn’t work, we needed at least some noise, so, we had already arranged the next best thing ... I pulled up outside of Sharpo’s. His door opens, and he comes from the door sort of hopping and running trying to get into a sleeping bag. He was subtly trying to tell me that my heater was worse than crap ... (being subtle was one of his best qualities).

  An e-mail from Sue, Dave’s lovely wife.

  Dave doesn’t mind ‘you mentioning’ (author added) about the car bit. He said it was so funny when Sharpo came out of the house jumping in a sleeping bag and asked ‘why’... Sharpo said ‘you'll soon find out’... Dave said he's never been soooo cold and there was Sharpo as snug as anything curled up in his sleeping bag.

  Huh! Cold is good for you! What about our version of talk, talk, talk radio? Zzzzzzzzzz! We travelled first class to Workington to college. All I could hear was the engine purring, ‘brrrr!’ and ‘Zzzzzz!’

  We finished, having sponged up all the knowledge Workington lecturers could give us and made our way back to the car. I opened the door by turning the key in the lock (remember those days?). Dave, whose seat was in the back next to the black box, opened his door, and the pin in the hinge (these are French country road cars remember, expense spared), and the door came off in his hand.

  He started laughing. As Dave carried on laughing (still is apparently), I didn’t know what to think, but then thought about taking the other one off and bolting them to the roof and having the first DeLorean. I can’t remember what Sharpo said, but it was something riper than a piece of mature Gorgonzola. I started the engine, turned on the cold air because it was Winter in the frozen wastelands of the North, and we’re always hot (anyway, Sellafield was nearby ... who needs a heater?). I can’t remember what happened to the car, but I think Dave has the door, framed and on his living room wall. At least we had radio on the way back, which was very loud, but no one could get hold of the knob to turn it down a bit (I blame his dad’s genes, although Esther may have been noisy in private).

  I’m going to finish now, but absolutely lastly, I must pay a tribute to my best friend. The one who whispered the words of inspiration and gave me the ‘mental’ pictures to write this text and kept me up for weeks, laughing.

  I have taken the mick out of that old infinite stalwart and all round good egg, God, throughout this whole thing, for which I may be accused of blasphemy by certain groups, but do I care? (I don’t fear God ... why fear friends?). I guess you may have realised I’m not quite religious? Neither was Sharpo, although he did live right next door to the Catholic Priest, within stone’s throw of the church ... there’s some irony in there.

  One more thing

  Good News!

  God got a hunch, call it coincidence of you like. He went around to his parents house for Sunday Dinner He had an urge to explore and so went into the altar wine cellar which was huge because God’s parent’s mansion (of which they have many) is pretty spectacular. He was nosing around omnipresently and came across his old work desk. He looked at it and was also it, which is very clever. He noticed the pencil mark on it and upon closer inspection, he found Millom ... ‘Oh gosh!’ he exclaimed as he realised what he had done all those billions of years ago which is a mere fraction of a second in eternity, but a long time for Millom.

  Call it coincidence again if you will (that’s the easy way out) but at about the same time the Reverend Joe thought ‘I bet he drew Millom on the white topped table and that’s why it’s so crazy here. But Joe needed Millom known to the outside world so he could Skype international banks into which he could deposit the Gold given to Laal J at Christmas, not to mention all the widow’s treasures. The banks wouldn’t give him an account because they thought he was taking the mickey by telling them he lived in Millom, which wasn’t on the map. But now his fortune needed to be making serious interest, so he had a word in God’s shell like and gave him an ultimatum i.e. ‘you put Millom on the map and then you’ve no need to pray to me anymore.’ A deal was made. Some maps don’t show Millom because it’s too small. For instance, on this particular one the red dot is Millom. Actually, if that dot was printed out and cut out, although it may look like a spot on your finger end, it would be like a manhole cover if laid on Millom’s main street.

  You can see how young God made the cock up though.

  Is that the end?

  Well, if there is no death, it can’t be (can it?).

  Heaven.

  God: “Peter, where is newly returned soul Sharpo?”

  Peter: “Behind that fluffy cloud over there.”

  God: “Well, I have a harp for him. Soul Jesus says he will teach him and then they can form a duo and play to those newly arrived from rest homes. Can you tell him through the megaphone please.”

  Peter: “Ok. Testing! Soul Sharpo, could you stop messing around and being annoying and come over here please?! We have a harp for you and soul Jesus is going to give you some lessons and then form a lovely duo with you to play to nice old people’s souls who will appreciate you both!”

  The divine dove flew from the cloud’s puffy splendour and landed on God’s shoulder. Peter noticed the message on its leg, removed it, opened it and read it ... his face dropped.

  God: “What does it say?”

  Peter: “Erm ... well, at least we can’t die and there’s nowhere we can go, because we’re Now Here

  Good Old Sharpo

  Pay a visit if you are already visiting the lakes. If you go on a weekday, you can return on Sunday afternoon and go to the Rugby League car boot sale and get your car parts back at a very reasonable price. Any touristy questions will be answered by Russell in the Bridge Caff (tell him to get the toilet fixed).

  END

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