Nah then folks, during the 60s..

Samssong. Could I ask why quoted everything from above please?

Samssong. Could I ask why quoted everything from above please?

Come agen.

Your post (204) you posted what Zakes had posted and I wondered why as it isn't necessary. When reading through on the phone these pointless requotes are annoying.

If I knew the logic then it might be more bearable.

Your post (204) you posted what Zakes had posted and I wondered why as it isn't necessary. When reading through on the phone these pointless requotes are annoying.

 

If I knew the logic then it might be more bearable.

The Queen watches it.

Everyone Is Everyone Else 1967. Part 2 of 2.

Subtitled – 'Battle' of the Sexes. Observations of a 13 year old boy. A light hearted view.

The Men.

It hadn't escaped Zakes' attention, that there had been a definite change in men in recent times. It seemed men had seen reason, And knew they had lost not only the battle, but the war. It would be quite senseless to try to carry on. through complacency, the men had underestimated their opponents, the equality movement. They would now be paying a heavy for their gutlessness, their yittenness, and their contemptness.

With long unsmiling faces, and hang-dog looks, men conceded without the thought of re-grouping...they were obliteratingly finished. They had let down the future generations of men. Men would be now under the thumb, and the slipper, for many decades to come.

What Zakes, and other intellectuals had noticed, was that most men had now started to dance to the tune, conducted by their conquerors, who had orchestrated the defeat of man-kind. The yesterday's men were now:

Slimmer, and if not thinner, than they were just those few weeks ago, when the daylight star shone, and women 'knew' their roles, and their places in life...the kitchen, and also the bedroom. The halcyon days were now gone, never to return. Men only had themselves to blame. It was nowonwards the men's turn to man the taps, washing machine, cooker etc. there was nowhither to go to escape the fact that men would very likely become... the fairer sex.

SOME EXAMPLES OF MEN CHANGING, OBSERVED BY THE SMIRKING, TUTTING, ZAKES:

Men wearing tight trousers and tight jeans. This made men speak with high pitched voices. The tightness also made men walk in a scurrying way, like ladies (women) of the not too distant past. Tight trousers also showed up the knicker-line. What ever next?

Men hadn't yet started to wear frocks and dresses, but it was rumoured that in the far northern parts of Britain, some men had started gad about, apparelled in little Bolero

type jackets and check patterned skirts with giant sized purses hanging down at the front.

What ever next?

To get into the swing of things in their new lives, men in Zakes' area, were best advised to attend the many short courses Frecheville Community Centre had to offer, for a small fee. These courses included:

1. How to wash pots without damaging them.

2. How to become a buffer boy, combined with, how to become an efficient barmate.

3. How to push a pram...if your wife chooses to have children.

4. How to clean a toilet bowl without the use of bleach.

5. How to become a shop-a-holic.

6. How to become a successful secretary/receptionist.

7. How to cook. Include salad presentation, and the 43 ways to cook / present a potato.

8. How to knit. Including, crochet, entwine, purl, seam, stitch, weave etc. Bring your own knitting needles.

9. How to greet your wife when you get home, where she will be found sprawled out on the sofa, guzzling cheap lager whilst watching ladies football on TV.

Other courses on request. Please take a brochure.

What ever next?

Less men were visiting the barber shop, many men were now going to the hairdressing salon to have their hair tended to. These new men, on entering the hair grooming establishments, would sit patiently waiting for their turn to be called, for their trichoided thatches to be treated. Whilst waiting, these new men would casually flick through the dog-eared pages of woMANS Own, woMANS Weekly, and copies of last month's Jacky, Bunty and Girlfriend. Permanent perms, colouring, and a once weekly wash, dry, blow and go, had become the order of the day. Combs had becom(b)e obsolete, hairbrushes and hair sprays the rage.

The Hairdressing salons had recently introduced an ear piercing service. Male customers would receive this service gratis, on condition(ing) they brought their own ear-studs and earrings with them. If the clientage brought with them their own bracelets, necklaces, bangles and beads, they would be shown how to show them off to best effect. In cases of vanity, punters would receive a free course in, How to apply make-up. The free courses offered, applied to Thursday mornings only, due to Early-Opening-Day, as opposed to Early - Closing – Day. What ever next?

It seemed to Zakes, that the sexes (fair or otherwise) were swapping roles in this new, new world. It seemed to him that everyone is everybody else.

If the Government couldn't succeed with divide and rule, then why not try... confuse and rule? Huh.

What ever next?

Miss German Gear had come back onto the TV screens last Monday evening, to gloat about men having 'Castration Anxiety'. She also went on to say that men were now wishing to 'return to the womb', in search of 'security' in their pathetic little lives of insecurity.

Well, Miss Gear really had hit the brad on the bounce, because many men had gone in search of 'security'. These men were now living securely, and happily in run-down one horse hamlets, like hysteric Wombwell, Scunthorpe and Clithero.

What ever next? Politicians screaming, then biting into the pillow? Were they afraid (or happy) that Big Cyril would be next? They said it was no worse than shooting a sick dog.

Zakes didn't want to be a part of this madness, a madness that was going to get worse as the years rolled by. It all seemed too Kafkaesque for him. We decided then and there, that his only way of escape from this mad, mad world, would be to 'age in reverse'.

His twentieth birthday will be in 1960.

Hey Zakes,totally off the subject but i'm the long haired steve who worked at viners ,from the albert thread !!!! hair aint long anymore though !! been on the site a week or so now,good times in the albert ,sportsman,and wap all those years back. trying to recall your name though .

just stumbled across this and i'm so glad its happened, you mention my dad in the above quote 2 Stephen wiggett so i've just gave him a call and asked him if this was true and to my delight it was!

so i thank you for bringing a smile to my face on this friday

---------- Post added 29-04-2017 at 10:41 ----------

My dad has just been telling me about how him and some mates use to get into back off donolons shop at night for the apples etc but this one night they went in there was a crate with the old gas masks in so as you do they took them to wear as they all sat on the wall of the frechy pub

Nah Then me old fruit. 1967.

As a boy begins to die the moment he is born, so will Frecheville lake…murdered by the sun. Then they won’t be sufficient moisture to even service a Green Shield stamp, let alone a big multi-coloured CCCP postage stamp. Unfortunately, death has a habit of being final. On the bright side though, death is about closing one’s eyes then seeing light instead of dark … (Zakes: Chapter 15: Verse 12).

Fortunately, the drought hadn’t yet arrived at Frecheville, and the large lake still had its bracing air. Many people came to visit the lake to watch Donald Campbell fiddling about with his Bluebird…she was a Cardiff City supporter.

Fortunately, Zakes was also still on the go. He was in fine kettle, and always enjoyed a cup of tea, the stuff the chimps supped. The thirteen years old Zakes had no obsequiousness in his manner, nor any sign of superiority. He was a nice everyday boy, who today, allowed his light-brown hair to be momentarily whipped by the strong North-West breeze.

Zakes was on a health-trip, even though he wasn’t going anywhere. He had recently started coourtin’ with a lass who resided on the nearby Birley estate. Her name was Rose Walker, who enjoyed her hobby…rambling. Zakes had first met Rose at Donolons shop on Birley Moor Crescent. Zakes lived on the Newstead estate, where no shops served the estate. If there would have been shops on the estate, then they would have served the estate…Clever clogs.

--------------------------------------

Zakes was so happy to have Rose in his possession. She was aged sixteen, and had brunette hair down to her slim shoulders. She had the gait and the bod of an early-day Diana Dors, but Rose’s hair was its natural colour, which meant she wasn’t promiscuous.

Rose had been ‘Nymph of the Month’, in last months ‘Focus on Frecheville Folk’ magazine. Rose had then received an invite to a photographic photo-shoot at the Tit-Bits publication. She had also received an offer from the clean-cut Mark Lewis, who had starred in the film, Peeping Tom (1959). Rose declined both opportunities towards fame, because she wanted to give her full undivided attention to her new Newstead beau.

As far as Zakes was concerned, Rose was heavenly, and she looked like a Goddess from the volute Andromeda Galaxy. The sight of her made Zakes’ mind spiral out of control in a screwy way. His acuity for this divine damsel didn’t necessarily make him into a ‘sinner without pride’.

--------------------------------------

Being a healthy eater, Rose had suggested that Zakes should also become a healthy eater. She told him he would feel the difference, and he would feel much fitter than he already was, if he ate loads of fresh fruit and vegetables. Zakes decided to go along with Rose’s idea, by agreeing to put her notion into motion.

To encourage Zakes into eating healthily, Rose used poetic puns to…encourage Zakes into eating healthily. She said things like:

Fruit and vegetables the best edibles

Nutrition is cool, so don’t be a fool.

Carrots improve your sight by day and by night

Eat fruit to be cute

A pomegranate a day keeps the doctor away

An onion a day keeps everybody away

Rose recited many more healthy puns, and she wasn’t taking the pith. (Thanks George).

Rose had even suggested that she and Zakes should start night-time scrumping, because it was a part of healthy eating. She explained that fruit picked in the dark feels no pain, and that a happy apple, pear, plum, cherry or berry are much sweeter, and juicier than a fruit picked by day-light.

--------------------------------------

Following a cool misty night, today was warm and sunny. Zakes and Rose had previously arranged to meet today at the knot of redwood trees that were situated at the bottom Newstead Road. They were both punctually on time. Rose noticed that Zakes had bought a brown paper bag with him. The bag was filled with healthy fresh fruit. After a quick long lasting hug, the pair set off on their ramble.

Zakes felt the pleasure of strolling with Rose through the paradisiacal long grassed fields atween Birley Lane and Birley Woods. His heart was aflutter. Between the two lovers and Birley Woods, were many trees and many bushes. In those trees and in those bushes, lived many species of birds. Those birds were also enjoying the sunny Sunday sun. Rose and Zakes could clearly hear the communitive communication calls of the birds. They could hear:

The shriek of a Shrike

The squawk of a Hawk

The titter of a Tit

The crow of a Crow

The Coo of a Cukcoo

The ecstatic screams of a Shag…at the pond next to the woods.

Then came the song of a swallow revealing his sorrow

Many more birds of the field and forest were in full voice.

--------------------------------------

Sixteen minutes into the ramble, the two young loved-up lovers took a short rest. Each lay supine on their back in the long, sweet smelling grass. They were both gazing up to the sky in the hope of finding faces in the clouds, white candyfloss-like clouds. It was times like this when hope was high, and life was worth living.

Suddenly, Rose sat up and looked down upon Zakes with starry eyes of shining black pearls. Rose then gracefully lowered her pretty head, and her full eager lips met Zakes’ quivering kissing gear. During the sweet-tasting warm wet snog, Zakes realised there was more to love than just hand holding. The highly exited Zakes momentarily thought whether he should reach, Adam and Eve style, for an apple from the brown paper bag. Instead, he decided to…Unzip(p) a banana!

Footnotes:

1. Shag - Also called a Green Cormorant. The bird is usually to be found close to sea, but it is occasionally to be found at ponds and lakes inland. Its cry is usually a grunt sound. During mating season, the Shag has a neurotic high-pitched ‘k-arr’, ‘arck-arck’, ‘kroak-kraik-kroak’, sound.

2. Unzip(p) a banana – was a catch phrase for a British TV ad campaign in the 60’s. It was a bit of genuine advice intended to promote the consumption of healthy bananas.

Have you recently tried to unzip a banana?

See the unzip a banana ads on YouTube.

Hero Georgi Part 1 of 2.

On a day like today

We passed the time away

Writing love letters in the sand.

Zakes first heard these opening words to a song in 1957. 1957 was a year of a worldwide baby boon(e). At the time, a very young Zakes was aged 3 years, and had recently learned how to walk again after an illness. The song was blaring out from the wireless, even though it was plugged-in, and was a Grundig, in the kitchen at 22 Kingsway, RAF Geilenkirchen. It was nice that Zakes had now gained the skill to walk away from the kitchen, for he couldn’t bear to listen to such kitschy stuff being blurted out, on two-way famil favourites.

Due to Dad Zakes being a medic in the RAF, the family Zakes were often on the move to the married quarters of other RAF camps. Their next move was to RAF Jever, and later to RAF Bad Zwischenahn, both in Northern Germoney. After another spell back at RAF Geilenkirchen, the Zakes’ were then posted for a short time to RAF Hawarden, in North Wales. Their final move was to RAF Lindholme Bomber Command, north-east of Doncaster. The camp was close to nearby Hatfield Woodhouse. The Zakes’ lived at, 16 Hampden Crescent. Other roads on the camp were also named after WW2 aeroplanes… Lancaster, Blenheim, Varsity, Wellington, Lincoln and Canberra.

During the year 1959, Mum Zakes took her three sons (Zakes and his two elder brothers) to live in Sheffield, in Wood Street. Dad Zakes joined the family a pair of weeks later. He was doe to be transferred (undisclosed fee.) to RAF Norton. Living with relatives was a tight fit, but a letter from Sheffield Corporation offering a three-bedroom house on Hackenthorpe, in the lush countryside of N.E. Derbyshire, was too good to turn down. Afterall, the ouse had an indoor toilet, and even a bathroom. Goodbye Wood Street.

Dad Zakes continued with his RAF activities, commuting daily by bus(es). His hourney was the no. 41 bus to Manor Top (Elmtree), then the Outer Circular no. 2 to the camp at Norton, just past Gleadless Townend.

After six years on Hackenthorpe, during which time Dad Zakes had left the RAF, the Zakes’ moved to the new Newstead Estate which was built by Vic Hallam Homes. No Hassall there then.

Most of the above is not meant as a geography lesson, but as a true filler to this developing (un)interesting short story.

_________________________________________

1967.

At 13, Zakes was a smarty-pants, just like many children of his age. Although he was effulgent, and had the air and the carriage of a young gentleman, Zakes knew he was as nutty as a squirrel, and all squirrels are nutters. His saving grace was his dr(e)y humour.

Lying supine in his pit, zakes was counting the cracks in the uppermost surface of his sleeping-room. The alarm clock upon his ebony rose-wood bedside escritoire told him it was 09:04, on his bright Sunday morning. Nine cracks in the ceiling were two more than two Sundays ago. Zakes wasn’t alarmed by this though, because he always enjoyed a good crack. Cracks and crevices…

… Zakes had a pash on Miss Moore at school. Miss Moore was a teacher who often walked the corridors at Birley School. Miss Pat Moore wasn’t a Wanda Ventham, nor was she a Valerie Leon, Juliette Harmer, Carol White, Anouska Hempel, or even a Suzy Kendall, but she was still oreight, almost double-reight. Miss Moore always had neatly brushed hair, and her lips were always touched-up with hardly noticeable pink Hi-Fi lipstick, by Max Factor. She always walked upright in an exaggerated way, as if she was desperately clasping a ten-bob-note, wedged in the crack of her shapely bottle & glarse. She wore shiny shoes too. Patricia wouldn’t be seen dead wearing bright red lipstick caked all over her mouth, like some cheap bullet-headed, kuss maul tart, on the backstreets of East Berlin. No, not his Patricia, Pat was too svelte and sensuous for that. Pat could be Zakes’ Girl-Friday any day of the week… she only had to ask. Such a pity it was Sundat though. Zakes would never demand that Miss Moore should … gerrem off.

______________________________________

Another ‘lady’ at school was Miss Ellis. She never told Zakes what her Christian name was, so Miss Ellis would have to do. Zakes had often dreamed of seeing Miss Ellis wearing a smile (and little else). Wow, what legs, like walking on soft-boiled eggs, and no sign of very-close veins either.

Miss Ellis, the girls P.E. teacher, was somewhat rough looking, but what a pair of T-34’s underneath her tank-top sweater! She also had a tight hind behind. Her form-er school was Hind-e House, situated in a yet to become rough corner of Sheffield. In a perverse way, Miss Ellis looked like a Russian, a husky Russky. She wouldn’t have looked out of place with bright red lipstick plastered across her kisser, whilst working the night-shift on the backstreets of Lemmingrad.

Of Kurs-k, Miss Ellis stole Zakes’ heart in Stealingrad, but Zakes still wanted to be her Katyusha rocket launcher, and he would willingly whistle all day for her, the tune… ‘Georgi Zhukov goes marching on’.

Miss Ellis enjoyed drinking Vladi Marys in the school staff room at pl(a)y time. In(n) the evenings she knocked back Molotov cokctails (sp.) in the Cossack Pub (Tetley) on Howard Street, Sheffield. Being a well travelled ‘lady’, Miss Ellis had been around the Globe (Stones), also on Howard Street. To gain entry into the pub, Miss Ellis had to climb two steep steppes. Once inside, she often met her friend, Olga from the Volga, and double vodkas became the order of the day(evening).

Every other Tuesday evening, Russian folk music was played at the Cossack. Ivan, who often wore a brown bearskin balaclava, played lead balalaika in the band. Ivan’s music was terrible, and his solo rendition of ‘Midnight in Moscow’, sounded more like, ‘Midday in Mosborough’. Ivan was destined to never becoming a musical supertsar (spelling). During his childhood days at school, Ivan had always gotten low marx for music, and for spelling. This had made him feel as sick(le) as a pig.

It was perfectly lucid that Miss Ellis knew all there was to know about the birds, bees, and bunny rabbits. Zakes was eager to learn. He would definitely introduce lettuce and carrots into his diet. “Gerrem offski!”

________________________________________

Although it was time to arise, Zakes remained in bed for a rise. He was casually casting his violet irises at his three new pin-up posters pinned upon the wall… Rosemary Nichols, Janice Nicholls and dandy Nichols. All three ladies were like the countryside around Newstead. They all possessed gentle hills and shut-in valleys. Zakes was tempted to blow kisses, but he decided to close his eyes, and in moments he was a-snore.

To be continued.

please keep these tales coming . a lot of my childhood is somewhere in these sagas

please keep these tales coming . a lot of my childhood is somewhere in these sagas

agree with you hackey. can"t wait for the next instalment. our very own zakespear.

Hero Georgi Part 2 of 2.

Having re-awoken, Zakes looked to his alarm clock, to discover it was now 12:17. As he was rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, Zakes could smell the smell of Sunday dinner creeping upstairs to his sleeping-room. He could also hear the radio blaring away in the kitchen. On Two-Way Family Favourites, Zakes could clearly hear the vocal voice of Vince Hill, Coventry’s finest, singing… Love Letters in the Sand. Zakes wasn’t fully con-vince-d.

________________________________

Zakes could quite well imagine loved-up lovers writing love letters in the sand, on the beaches of coastal resorts like Skegness, Scarborough and Southend-on-Sea. The next tide coming in would wash away those first-hand romantic love letters, and replace them with second-hand French letters, all the way from France. Ruddy lunar-tics.

Though the coastal resorts were far away, it didn’t matter. There were two places locally, that provided every opportunity to write love letters in the sand. On the sandy west embankment of Frecheville Lake, lovers scribbled their love letters in the sand. The twice daily high tides never failed to wash away the obscene messages.

The second local place where love letters in the sand were to be found, was on the sports fields of Birley School. Just beyond the fixed board at the end of the Long Jump run, was a large sandpit. In the golden sand lovers often wrote their love letters. Unfortunately, there was no tide to wash away the writings, nor the left over French letters, left over by a local man called Johnnie, and his geil girlfriend Joannie.

____________________________________

Two days later.

Sat in the classroom at school, Zakes was most distraught. He had just heard through the grapevine in the school gardens, that Miss Ellis had made plans to move abroad in two years time. She was going to be teaching sport and music in Lennongrad, back in the USSR.

Now Zakes’ broken heart aches

With ev’ry wave that breaks…