zakes

What ever happened to home made go carts? In the early 60’s me fatha made a trolley for me from planks of wood with the letters P.W.D. stenciled on them. I used to drive my trolley on Carter Lodge Rise or on the very bumpy Pigs Lane in Hackenthorpe. I would steer the trolley with my feet with me in a sitting position, or laid down steering with my hands. I found using string or rope were quite useless. It was advisable for people to not get in my way, because I would do what the ignorant mobility scooter people do today in shops and on the Moor. My excuse is I was only a young boy then. I also used to have a scooter with inflated fat tyres and a brake. I still have some scars on my left knee over fifty years later. The tiny scooters used by today’s children are total rubbish because if they hit the slightest bump they tip forward or jack knife. A waste of money.

Gleadless County School / Manor Library. My sister went to this school about 10 years after yourselves. We lived at the time in Crossland Drive but that's enough about her. Reading through the posts on this thread I noticed two names I recognised. 1. Gary Wells. Gary lived at nr.1, Crossland Place in the Vic Hallam houses, and he played at times football with us lot in Hollinsend Park on Sundays. He was also on the odd occasion my pal of the day which must have pleased him no end. I think he was an only child. 2. Della Freeston. Della who's real name was Doris (I think) lived at 924 Gleadless Road opposite but just past the long row of shops. Elam's, Lewis's, George's, National Westminster Bank, Pauline's Hairdressers etc. Della had long black hair and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She'll be about 58 now and I last saw her about 1972 and she looked fab in her tight black jeans. Yes I fancied her! 3. The only connection I ever had with Manor Library was the time I haif inched a couple of spanners out of someone's spanner pouch (bag) on their bicycle. Huh!

French Collection Part 2 of 2. Perusing his atlas further, Zakes came across more visitable towns and cities like:- Mulhouse – Which was no more than a glorified stable where donkeys, asses and such were kept. Reims – Which was allegedly France’s main paper industry city where the machines could whip out lots of sheets of paper. Corsica – Which was allegedly France’s main corset making area where incarcerated coarse corsairs were frogmarched to a factory where they stitched together these figure hugging ladies items of course. Corsica had legions of foreign conscripts who were the mainstay of the local economy. Zakes wasn’t a refined dandy, and for that reason he wouldn’t want to be a geste on this island. Angers – In Pays de la Loire, Zakes would be scared to go there because he could imagine big, hairy, sweaty French adults stinking of cognac and garlic snarling at each other. Zakes would one day like to see the capital of all France, but because he was unsteady on his feet he would be afeared of slipping into the river and breaking a leg. It would be an inseine thing to do, and his leg would most likely end up being wrapped in plaster of Paris. Valence – A waste of time because he already had one spread over his bed. Orange – Why bother? Zakes could get one of these any day at Sheffield’s Castle Market. Where Zakes lived at Newstead Rise, there was a lad living nearby called one eyed Pete. Pete with the one eye once told Zakes that the Sheffield Corporation would in many years to come, build a new indoor market on The Moor. The old Castle Market would then be demolized ‘til it was no moor. Zakes would want in those many many years to come, to continue buying his Lyon-s tea from the Castle Market, and knocking it down would not be a good thing and he was Avignon of it. LEAVE IT ALONE, IT’S OURS would be printed on his placard when the time arrived. Zakes would then be well acquainted on the subject because he would know his onions. As an afterthought, Zakes thought if one eyed Pete could cadge a patch for the hole where his missing eye was supposed to be, he would stand a good chance of getting a job in Corsica because he wouldn’t look out of place with those prating pirate prats, who earn a sou or two every time they sew. Lorient – Why go all the way to France when Zakes could go to East London to watch them play and drop two points every second week. Lens – Why go all the way to France when Zakes could go to Jamieson’s Apotheke at Birley Moor Road who sold childrens cameras upstairs, along with Potty Putty and Airfix models. Dampierre – Why bother? Mum Zakes always managed to put a Dampierre on anything Zakes did or said. Dieppe – Why go all the way to France when Zakes was given a fried breakfast by his mum every morning, and he always Diepped his bread in his tomato Dieppe. Toulouse – Zakes never thought of it, he was a winning winner. Dijon – Was a wanderer and a teenager in love with runaround Sue. Along with his brothers Abraham, Martin and John, Dijon used to live in Belmont where they drank Burgundy white wine. Why go all the way to France to watch them when they often plat at some crabby club in the city of Sheffield on an unregular basis. Zakes’ eldest brother had a decent sized vinyl collection, and in his collection he had some records of French artistes, for exampled instance:- Francois Hardy – She sang songs of love with robust meaning. She had a distant relative who lived in Sheffield called Jim. Mirelle Mathieu – She was another fine singer of songs. It was rumoured she was having it off with Victor, a relative living in U.S.A. Victor was a two bit actor, but nobody complained because he and Mirelle were both mature persons. Edith – She was another songstress but she unfortunately had legs as thin as a sparrow’s. Her surname eludes Zakes at the moment, but it was reported Edith liked to eat chips and scampi after singing her songs, and she didn’t regret it. Jane – Zakes can’t remember her surname either but he knew she was famous for burking about. She also had a relative in England who liked to wear serge materialed clothing. It was rumoured her relative lived in Gainsborough. Zakes couldn’t understand these lard hopping French people, and it seemed to him that France was still in a spin following their revolution of 1789. Why can’t these people just say thank you or dankeschoen or takk? Why do they always say merci all the ruddy time? Could it be guilt for a past crime (anag)? Work it out yourselves, chuffin’ ‘ell, strewth!! What famous people did France have then, mused Zakes. Nappy Leon – A so called powerful Emperor with a baby name and stumpy legs. He was firstly driven out by the Russians and then given the elbow to Elba by a misguided bird called ‘not tonight’ Josephine. Louis Pasteur – Who needs him when there are enough pasteur’s at Express Dairy in Broadfield Road? Commissaire Maygrey – He was supposed to be good but May isn’t grey, it’s a sunny time of year. Rupert Davies? Zakes couldn’t bear the man. At least the English had Gideon who always had his way. There was also Inspector Lockhart who allegedly had no hiding place. Dad Zakes was busy in the kitchen trying to repair Degas dial on the stove with a monkey wrench, when Mum Zakes arrived home from a short shopping trip. Seeing his wife holding heavy shopping bags full of shopping, Dad Zakes stepped forth to help her, but firstly put his Toulon the table. Zakes entered the kitchen in the hope his mum had bought him a pack of his favourite Bourbon broken biscuits of which he was very fond-ant. He saw his mum give her husband a smile as she slipped him a pack of six rubbery condoms. This got Zakes to wondering why the English call these thin balloons French Letters, and the French in turn call them Londoners. Could it be possible each side was preparing to blame the other in case of any unwanted pregnancies? Zakes then heard his abrupt Marseille “I’ve not bought or brought you any of those chocolate biscuits because you’re fat enough.” On hearing this, Zakes was saddened and disappointed, and wondered how his very own mum could have De Gaulle to talk to her very own son like that. In the hallway, Zakes grabbed his purple coloured Algerian alpaca skin jacket, then left the house. He was determined to have a long brisk walk to burn off his anger toward his mum. Zakes decided he wouldn’t be going near to any of the ponds at Birley or Frecheville, because at this time of year they would both be snided with FROGS! P.S. “Waiter, do you have frogs legs?” “No sir, it’s the way I walk.”

French Collection Part 1 of 2. At home sitting comfortably, Dad Zakes was telling his son that Grandfatha Zakes had been involved in Operation Dynamo in Dunkirk in 1940 durrint war. Apparently Grandfatha Zakes’ part was feighting alongside his British buddies and their allies, the Belgians and the French against the squareheads of Germany. During this time Grandfatha Zakes developed a dependency addiction which involved the dunk(irk)ing of croissants into cold mocha coffee of the undecaffeinated kind. The exact spot where the dunking took place was next to the dunnite explosives store, that was situated next to the done in dunnikins, where the scared military men would crouch and cower because they were afraid to faes the enemy. Before the war had started this particular area was a natural nature reserve where peaceful Dunlins, Dunnocks, Dunflies and Dung beetles lived. Due to the uncontrollable intake of croissants adding nine stones to his weight of eighteen stones, it came as no surprise that three and a half years later Grandfatha Zakes was posted to the Ardennes in Belgium, to fight in the Battle of the Bulge. The hard fought battle resulted in a decisive allied victory with the Bosch receiving a reight drilling. Grandfatha Zakes also won a personal victory because due to the fear factor and the short supplies he had managed to shed so many stones in weight that he could have easily passed for ‘General Bernard Monty’s double, but unfortunately Operation Overlord in the Normandy had already happened six months prior. Grandfatha Zakes who had a chest infection had been so relieved to have escaped capture in the Ardennes, because he wouldn’t have welcomed the idea of being carted off to that chilly Coldtits castle near to Leipzig on the eastern side of Germoney. Zakes aged 13 had enjoyed listening to his dad telling and relating stories of his greedy and gluttonous Grandfatha in action and wanted to know more about France, but not Belgium because it was only weeny. He already knew a little about France but norralot. Zakes zipped up to his bedroom to fetch his mappy atlas and was back upon the settee faster than the speed of dark. Finding the page which was number fifty eight, Zakes looked at the size and shape of France and was immediately impressed. He saw the twenty two metropolitan regions and the names of their capitals, and was surprised with what he was reading. In the north east there was a city called Nancy, and Zakes knew a girl called Nancy. Nancy always hung about the phone box near to the Spa Club at Frecheville, and she always drank Vimto through a straw from a Vimto bottle. Zakes had once asked the naughty and nubile Nancy if he could take a gander up her skirt and she had complied by promptly lifting her hem chin high giving Zakes a reight Eiffel of her French camiknicks. On closer inspection Zakes noted her Nice pastel pink undies were made of racy Rayon. After lowering her skirt back to it’s original position, Nancy beamed a wide smile then ripped her tatty looking t-shirt skywards to reveal the most wonderful sweet looking blub blubs Zakes had ever seen in all his years of life. It occurred to Zakes that Nancy was perhaps feeling guilty of something, because by lifting up her top it looked like a form of confession, because it seemed she was trying to make a clean Brest of things. Nancy had a big fat elder sister called Lorraine who was bowl egged, and a younger boring brother who was most effeminate, and the boy was unhappy because his lovely sister had been christened with the name he had so wanted to have. To the right of Lorraine was the area called Alsace also known as Alsatia. Zakes toyed with the idea of ordering through second class post a dog, but it was only a passing fancy because it ocCURred to him there weren’t any German Shepherds there anymore because the area was now back in French farmers hands. Looking higher up on the page Zakes saw the capital of the most northerly region Nord-pas de-Calais was Lille. Zakes had a auntie who lived in Hood Green and her name was Lil. Auntie Lil every Sunday without fail went to St. Etienne’s Baptist chapel in Chapeltown to attend evensong then she always raided the collect-ion box afterwards. Scanning south westerly on the atlas, Zakes swept past Upper Normandy in his wisdom to arrive at Lower Normandy whose capital city was called Caen. Zakes sprung from the grell green family settee, and went to the kitchen. Opening the left hand cupboard Zakes gave a knowing look and a smile when he saw it was still there……that Caen of worms. Having then opened the right hand cupboard he noted the six Cannes of haricot beans were still there un-touche-d. Backing his backside back onto the settee, Zakes continued his map searching in a south easterly direction to discover the county of Centre where the main city was named Orleans. Zakes wondered if the people who dined out in this city would eat Nice salty potatoes, succulent artichokes, sweet peas and a large steak cooked middle seldom, and it wouldn’t matter if the steak was fatty Orlean-s…yummy. Also in this state was the city of Tours where visitors could do a spot of sightseeing if they so chose. South west of this region came Poitou-Charentes and the capital being Poitiers. Well, Zakes was flummoxed by this name. For what reason would the French name one of their city’s after a famous American actor from the pictures. Sidney must have been as pleased as a Roman poet whilst he was keeping his virtuous vigil in the heat of the night. Zakes’ eyes roved southwards to reach the region of Aquitane and the chief city was called Bordeaux. Zakes looked up from his large book to glance out of the French doors to see the shed in the back garden where his second hand dart Bordeaux was hanging inside, and his pet name for it was Nancy, but that was a prickly subject.

Anyone remember the sisters Elizabeth and Ann Piggott?

Football in the street and parks. Whilst recently back in Sheffield I didn’t see many young ‘uns playing in the street(s) and wondered why that should be. Only two friends knew I was coming back which means the children couldn’t have been hiding from me. It seems to me the only children that go to the park are usually a pair of chavs with an aggressive ugly dog. I remember when I was younger I always used to be out and about often playing football. 1959 – 65 End of Carter Lodge Drive, Hackenthorpe 1965 – 68 On Newstead Rise Birley or Thornbridge School playing fields 1968 – 72 Hollinsend Park, Ridgeway Road At Hollinsend Park we played Sundays often 15 a side or even more. We’d often play ‘til dark when the air became cool and moist. At times you could only see silhouettes and hear forced breathing, and quite often you would slide tackle one of your own team mates. Everytime somebody scored he would often shout the name of his favourite player or team. We heard; Come on United Come on Wednesday Come on Coventry (Harvey Rogers) Come on Wolves (me) Come on Denis Law Come on Jimmy Greaves Come on Roger Hunt e.t.c. Some of the names remembered at Hollinsend:- Tony Clark, Harvey Rogers, Dave Titterton, Mick Hardcastle, Kevin Hardcastle, Keith Bradbury, Terence Bradbury and me – from Crossland Drive. Gary Wells – Crossland Place. Tony Rushton – Seagrave Crescent. Glenn and Steve Oxley – Kirby Avenue. John Addy – Gleadless Road. Anthony Ptak – Frith Close. Stephen (Corky) Thorpe – Gleadless Common area. Len Southern – Hollybank area. Colin Smith – Kirby view, when he tackled you it felt like being steamrolled, a la Harry Cripps (Millwall) or Bobby Keetch (QPR) style. Melvin – Prince Of Wales Road area. Brought some mates with him. And loads of others from Basegreen e.t.c. Best players were the Oxley Bros, Dave Titterton and Mick Hardcastle who was a big fan of Gary Puckett and Union Gap who didn’t play football. Lol. What memories do you have and where did you play?

Scran 1966. Sitting to attention at the left side of the dining table, Zakes was waiting for his mum to finish preparing his breakfast for him. Zakes didn’t like his mum very much because he was afeared of her. She always seemed to be barking orders at him and she also wasn’t slow in handing out slaps around his luggies, and that’s why he detested cauliflower. He often wished he could turn the clock back twelve years to the time he was born, then he could choose a different mother in the maternity ward, one that was kind, understanding, often smiled, and who would be very proud to have a son as nice as himself. Mum Zakes had dark black hair that was severely tied which accentuated the sharp lines of her cheek bones, and her complexion was a lighter shade of sallowness. Her thin lipped pob gob was most uninviting and her hastily applied morning glory make-up was indistinct. Her dark brown eyes were nothing akin to big velvety pansies. She was most definitely a female iceberg aged thirty seven winters. Zakes found it difficult to imagine his dad could have been so mental to have got it together with his harridan of a woman. The mathematics say that they must have had a cuppa tea and a quick roll on at least four occasions because Zakes had two brothers and also a sister to boot. Zakes wasn’t aware of his dad being in possession of a white stick and therefore put it down to the fact his dad was originally from the Hillsborough area where there was lots of lead, cadmium, magnesium, mercury, zinc and chrome in the drinking water which affects the sight and mind, not forgetting the broken teeth. Tapping fingers on the table betrayed Zakes’ mood when suddenly his morning meal arrived. It hadn’t taken long for his meal to be prepared because his mum had been cooking by gas. Mum Zakes had slung a large plate onto the table in front of Zakes, from a height of eight inches. Zakes couldn’t believe his eyes, because his scran upon the plate consisted of two assuaged sage sausages, two impetuousers of bacon, one squeshed military tomato fresh from the glasshouse in the neighbour’s back garden, a medium sized pile of mushy mushrooms, one poached egg cooked a la omelette style sunny side up, and three thin slices of pumpernickel bread each with a thin film of pumpkin seed margarine spread, and finally a piping hot beaker full of sweetened Lyon’s tea to wesh it all down with. Zakes was so pleased with the heavenly sight before him he just had to speak his thanks to his mum. “O thankyou mum, you are the bestest mother in all the world, and I wouldn’t trade you for another.” Said the two faced Zakes, who had a big smile across his four cheeks. Zakes’ poggy mother flushed then gently pressed her thin lips together, then gave a smile but turned away from her son because she found it to be a sign of weakness to show warmth. Zakes himself was very surprised to see his virago of a mother emit a smile because she was usually a first to accuse, last to praise type. Zakes was also pleased because he had spent twenty minutes in the kitchen with his mum without getting a thick ear. Mum Zakes exited the kitchen to get dolled up because she was going to visit a distant relative today who lived far away, in a place called London. She had planned to stay there for the weekend and already had her things packed in a case that stood next to the fridge. Whilst his mum was upstairs dressing herself, Zakes decided to have a peek inside the vanity case. Zakes discovered two double breasted white blouses, a pair of black sling back flat heeled shoes stiletto style, an ankle length pleated skirt in beer bottle brown and three pairs of pink silky open crotch knickers. Zakes had never seen open crotch undies before and couldn’t understand the reason for the crotchlessness. After a few moments of thought it occurred to him the holes were there in case his mother needed to have an emergency tiddle whilst on her travels. Re-entering the kitchen, Mum Zakes had a sour look upon her sour face and told her son she had a dicky tummy which was making her feel queasy. She went on to say she thought it was the thought of the lengthy train journey to London that was making her feel nervous. Zakes at last saw his chance to make a monkey out of his mother by suggesting to her that her tummy troubles perhaps came from her having to travel St. Pancreas Station. Wallop!!

Snake Charmers. “Dad, how many fishes can you get into a pair of fishnet tights?” Zakes asked. “I don’t know son, how many fish can you get in a pair of fishnet tights?” replied Dad Zakes. With a wide smile across his raspberry lips Zakes tendered the answer… “2 ‘eels 2 soles And a wet pla(i)ce, Ha! Ha! Ha!” “Hook in ‘ell son, tha’ mornt let thi mother hear thee talking like that, or thar’ll be forrit.” Dad Zakes warned his lad. Mum Zakes was next door at number 27 visiting Mrs Jaffray who suffered badly with agoraphobia which Zakes found quite strange, because she had been born in a field when she was a baby. Due to his mum not being present, Zakes took the opportunity to ask his dad another quippy joke. “Dad, how do you circumcise a whale?” Zakes asked. “I don’t know son, how do you circumcise a whale?” replied Dad Zakes. With a wide smile across his strawberry lips Zakes tendered the answer… “Send down four skin divers, Ha! Ha! Ha!” “Cut it aht nah son, if thi’ mother comes back we’ll both get a nollicking and a thick ear apiece?” Dad Zakes warned his lad. “Dad, what’s 12 foot long and floats in the sea?” Zakes asked. “That’s it son, just geeowah nah, thi’ mother’ll kill both us!” Dad Zakes warned his lad. Zakes giggled his delight knowing he had educated his yitten Dad who had fallen for the jokes hook, line and sinker. Dad Zakes then picked up his creel, rods and the rest of his fishing clobber and made to leave the house. He was going to a big pond in Carperby in the north with his chubby pal Rod Rodgers, who was waiting outside in his muddy Morris Minor. Having waved his dad off, the thirteen years old Zakes floated into the living room and plonked his behind onto the family’s cherry blue coloured seven seater settee. Having spent ten minutes brooding about the injustices of life, it occurred to him that if things don’t change, then they’ll probably stay as they are. Zakes then started to consider what he would like to be when he grew up. He would have liked to have become a poet like Browning, Keats and William Wordsworth, but every time he had tried to formulate a verse or two nothing ever seemed to rhyme. Zakes then decided he would like to become a dramatist or novelist. He felt quite certain he would at best only become a very poor man’s Samuel Beckett although at times he was a genial genius, but in a naïve way. Zakes was also very proud of his Sheffield talk, and it would be foolishly dangerous for anyone to call him an idiot or a bore. As it was the third Saturday in the month, Zakes was due for his periodic reduction in overheads or in layman’s lingo, he was due to have his ears lowered. After splashing loads of his dad’s Hai Karate aftershave around his kisser and remembering to be careful how you use it, he donned his green twill corduroyed jacket and his yellow and black square patterned hipsters, then set off to the barbers shop at Frecheville. Whilst walking alongst Birley Moor Road Zakes passed a hardy character, then a wise man and fifty seven paces later he also passed a romantic Romany lady. Approaching Frechy shopping centre Zakes was undecided which hairstyle he would like to have. Should he ask for square neck or Tony Curtis hairdo, or maybe a crew cut. Zakes even grappled with the idea of requesting a Mohican cut like that disabled Canadian wrestler Billy Tow Rivets had. Some months ago Zakes and his dad had gone dahn souff by train to Fairfield Hall in Croydon to watch Mr Two Rivets fight against an ugly opponent who was always shooting his mouth off, called Steve Lowgun. Arriving at the barbers’s shop which was a couple of doors from the butchers where the turkeys were still on display from Christmas, Zakes went in. The barber greeted Zakes by asking him if he had come for the chop. Zakes decided to play safe by asking for a short back and sides chop, instead of the Mohican chop because his mum would have cut him to pieces. After paying with money Zakes left, and thought he had been overcharged in this clip joint of a place. Zakes then repassed the butcher’s and was tempted to goin to purchase two cheap chops of the lamb variety from his cousin Daphne who worked there behind the counter, but chose to save his money instead for healthier options, like fags and spice. Zakes was now approaching Newstead Estate having first called in at Rippon’s papershop. He had bought himself a Mint Cracknell chocolate bar, five Woodbines plain and a box of matches with blue heads instead of the usual red, and they were made in Sweden. Zakes was glad he was on his own today, because that way he wouldn’t have to crash the fags. The only person Zakes came across before arriving home was a bloke named Perry, who always wore winkle pickers only on Saturday twice a week. Perry had a twenty four hour permanent smile, which meant he was a barmpot. He also had a peculiar quirk with his left eye which made people in the area think him a right ******. Perry had moved to Newstead just over one year ago from a one horse village called Wincobank. Having gotten home, Zakes went into the lounge and fed a shilling into the slot of the box attached to the back of the Faranti television, then switched on. The programme showing was World of Sport that was introduced by Eamonn Andrews, and as it was just after four o’clock wrestling was on. The commentator was called Kent Walton who lived in the garden of England. Kent, it was rumoured was famous for the same thing actor Errol Flynn was famous for. They were both constricted ophidian charmers who wore baggy trousers. After wrestling had finished Zakes went into the kitchen and saw his mum was ironing clothes, and on the board was her pair of pink fishnet tights. Zakes thought of the jokes from earlier in the day and began to laugh uncontrollably. This put his mum who didn’t understand why he was laughing on the warpath, then she shouted, “Get to your bedroom now you little sod, go on chop chop!!!”

Anybody from Hackenthorpe? Hackenthorpe and Zakes Part 15. Hello Jean Cottam (as was), pity for me and Le Baron that it’s not (as is). I’ve slung my memory back to those salad days of early to mid 60’s and hope I’ve got the right person otherwise I’ll hang my 58 years old head in shame. If I (30.3.54) happen to be younger than you then it’s important for you to know I have always been into the older type. If I’m older then that’s okay because I love the younger type too. Jean Cottam, Cotty to her friends if I remember had strong almost shoulder length hair that was light sandy in colour. On one occasion when I saw you there had been a rain shower which had slightly darkened your hair to the colour of the honeycomb inside a Crunchie Bar, after one had bitten into it. It looked fabulous and I bet there was a rainbow in the sky because I remember the sun was out. It may come as a surprise to you but all those years ago Crunchie was my big fave choccy bar. You were a little taller than me and you were slim (most girls were then), and most of the time when I saw you you were surrounded by others because of your goods looks and magnetic personality. Peggy Billard was another tall lass who you probably knew, but lets just concentrate on you. Many of the other children called you Cotty which isn’t a bad thing because people called by a shortened version of their name or a nickname are usually well liked persons. The time to worry is when people start to call you, oi, it or that! Lol. When I dreamt or when I spoke with you it was always Jean as I had a big respect for you and your presence. Bet Le Baron’s cringing with clenched fists at this. Lol. I used to see you at the playground up that long jennel at the side of Rainbow Forge Junior School. If you were with a few people I wouldn’t bother coming over because I really wanted you alone for myself. I did catch you on your own a pair of times which got my heart beating like mad. I had the near crazy idea to smell at your hair then steal a kiss, but was in fear of refusal and the thought that you wouldn’t like me anymore. We got on quite well but we only came across each other about a dozen times, if that. I can assure you Lady Jean, you had a damned sight more admirers (fanciers) than the two mentioned. All you girls had the most mellifluous natural scent in those days and the good thing is I have an extremely long memory. I prefer not to give my real name because this thread would get clogged up with posts from people saying what a nice lovely boy I was, but with loads of cheek and that I made Disney work very hard for his wages. In reality I’m quite shy and prefer to shun the limelight, even in a playground alone with the girl of my choice. I have written a few other stories about my Hackenthorpe daze on another thread, with names. ‘Nah then folks, during the 60’s’ – Zakes. I have mentioned my name on the thread at least 4 times, but in a very obscure way. Best wishes to you and your family, Lady Jean. Zakes (Just a dreamer in a low profile) xxx. Extra – There are photos of me from about that time on another thread. ‘Remember Birley School in the 60’s?’ post 134, just click. Don’t be fooled by the instant innocence, look into the eyes for 15 – 20 seconds then you will see determination. I will be putting more photos on in July/August when I come over from Beijing. The pics are at a relative’s home.

Mexico 1 and 2. Nah then Cuttsie, ref:- Posts 86 and 89. Roll along Sheffield Wednesday roll along Roll along Sheffield Wednesday roll along When Mark Hooper gets the ball It is sure to be a goal Roll along Sheffield Wednesday roll along. The only player I know of who sported a big black tash and played at Wednesday was Nigel Cassidy. He played at Hills’boro a year and a bit after my visit to Ford when Little Scunny Giant killed the Owls 2-1 in the F.A. cup on 24-1-1970 and Pancho Nigel scored the winner. The Wednesday players should have worn ponchos that day because they were well and truly tiddled upon. Angua TV covered that game stra(n)gely enough. The only connection I know of atween Ford and Wednesday is David Ford. He also had a black tash but I can’t remember if he was at Wednesday or Spewcastle United at the time. I saw Ford playing at Hills’boro during the 60’s and noticed he was good at dribbling, crossing, passing and volleying, but not very good at driving! Graham Pugh also had a pancho tash (not black). The wild looking blondie kid who knocked around Gleadless with the sky blue eyes lived at Base Green and went in’t Old Harrow was Steve Faulkner from Sheffield United. He was transferred to York City as was ‘Beaky’ Bob Widdowson some years afore him. Regarding the graffittic vandalism at St. Phillips club, it dunt surprise me at all the ruddy council took 30 years to remove it. They’ve always favoured Wednesday over United as has the Green ‘Un. P.S. The worst game I saw at Hills’boro was Northern Ireland v Bulgaria in 1972 (?). Did Dave Clements play that neet? 0-0, raining cats and mice.

Unusual name of streets. Belsize Road – Nether Green / Fulwood area. During deliveries for Wigfall’s in the early 70’s, my driver and me saw the sign when we passed this road and we couldn’t stop laffing for ages. I am not sure if it’s spelled correctly though.

Mankers A Sheffield Word. Nah then Cuttsie, Mankin', if done correctly is as enjoyable as another hobby that comes to light if you turn the first letter upside down. Wake a copy of this quickly because it won't be here long. Huh!

Anyone remember this saying?? Ice cream van - stop me and buy one. Johnny machine - buy me and stop one.

Satchels Part 3 of 3. The other classmates not mentioned didn’t have a channy with the birds, that’s why they haven't been mentioned. Tit lip Trevor and the desperate cow pie eating jaw, jaw Keith have only been included because birds being what they are, often go for something out of the ordinary. This is not a criticism, but a fair fact! Zakes had now whittled down to three girls, one of which would be the lucky one to escort him to the Rex picture palace. Lynne Womek, Lynn Stacey or Lesley Whiteley. There could be only one winner apart from Zakes. The three L’s, eh! Lynne Womek – Athenian Lynne was a headstrong type who always thought she was right. She was slightly wider of face than the other girls in class, which possibly indicated that she had East European blood. She was from time to time very friendly with the ever optimistic Zakes, but only when it suited her. Lynne and Zakes had often argued in the past and she always turned out to be the winner. Zakes lost the arguments because he had always conceded, because that’s what intelligent people like him did. Lynne was to blame that time when Mr. poxy Knoxy had dragged Zakes by the hair downstairs to the headmaster’s office. She also lived in a non-corporation house which meant she wasn’t a socialist. Lynne had a nice body and dressed well. Her satchel was slightly tatty and she can forget about any high falutin hopes of going to the pictures with Zakes! Lived at Thornbridge Drive. Lynn Stacey – Athenian. Lynn meant everything to Zakes. He would have set himself on fire for her if she would have requested it. Lynn once told Zakes (after he asked her why she walked so far to come to school) that there was a demarcation line which had prevented her going to a junior, then later a senior school in Hackenthorpe where she lived. Zakes had found this to be quite strange because two doors up from where she lived was a lad at nr. 54 called Martin Precious who had been in Zakes’ class at Birley Spa Juniors. Zakes would have loved to invite the lovely Lynn with the confident mischievous smile to the pictures, but was afraid to ask her in case she said no, or refused him. Zakes was used to people saying no to him, but with Lynn it was different, he would have been distraught, possibly destroyed. The best thing, thought Zakes, was not to ask her, then she couldn’t say no. This was a situation where Zakes would willingly admit to being an acute sufferer of yittenitis. This was such a pity, because Zakes would have loved to have sat in the dark at the Rex with her. He would have told her his made up secrets because he knew she would have been interested, because a secret to a girl is like fish to a starved cat. He had planned to bury his face into her dark hair, take deep breaths, then feel the texture against his face. Then it would be time to pass Poppets or those things that don’t melt in the hand to each other mouth to mouth, and that would be a treet. Oh yummy! Lynn had a gleaming satchel, was spotlessly dressed and lived at Jermyn Crescent. Lesley Whiteley – Corinthian. Lesley would be so made up when he invited her to the pictures, thought Zakes. Zakes and two pals of the week had once been to Lesley’s house, where she and Lynn Stacey along with Julie Hirst (?) were waiting. Zakes had on that occasion practiced kissing on all three of them and so now knew what to expect from Lesley at the Rex. Lesley had a fine pair of lungs, and Zakes would be waiting with bated breath to see if she would be wearing her satin lollipop pink knix in the flix. Zakes had chosen Lesley over all the other girls because:- 1. He had been scared rigid to ask Lynn Stacey, the one he really desired. 2. Because Lesley was left handed and Zakes was right handed. That way, if he sat to her right side in the pictures it would be less awkward and then they would both have easier access for whatever it was they wanted to access. 3. Out of the three candidatesses Lesley lived the nearest to Zakes’ home at Newstead Rise, which meant he would have a shorter journey home when he had finished doing what he had planned to do. After the lessons of the day were over the excited Zakes cornered Lesley, by the cloak racks and asked her if she would like to go to see ‘That Darn Cat’ film with him at the Rex. Lesley gave Zakes a most succulent wet lipped teethy smile, then looked deeply into his blue seductive eyes with her lovely green eyes, the gently said, “I have been waiting for you to ask me Zakes, but you’ve come too late, I am going to the pictures together with Trevor Lambert and Keith Widdowson”. Lesley had a loppy looking flea bitten satchel. She was dressed like a second hand rag doll, and she lived at Weakland Bloody Drive. Ugh!!!!!

Satchels – Part 2 of 3. Zakes was financially unembarrassed at the present time and possessed eighteen shillings and seven pence. He had worked very hard to amass his fortune this past weekend. His Aunty Grizzelda had come to visit again, and this time she had brought a heavy chesty cold with her. On three occasions she had asked Zakes if he could oblige by rubbing ‘Fiery Jack’ and ‘Vickrub’ into her 58 inch pectoral, and on three occasions Zakes had obliged like a good boy that he was. Aunty Grizzelda was so generous, Zakes mused. Her two daughters Dilys and Daphne were Zakes’ cousinesses and he loved them all dearly. Whilst Zakes had been gendering at his girly class matesses he had noticed some of the other lads had been doing the same. He wondered if they were planning to take some of the lasses to the Rex as well. Had they also come into some money? He felt quite certain that none of them knew of or had met Aunty Grizzelda! Zakes would have to keep a close eye o his competitors who were:- Mick Fukes – Athenian. Mick was a lad who liked to take risks without thought as most left handed people tend to do. At times his gimlet eyes showed impish interest, and at other times he puckered his eyes creating three vertical lines atween his brows. He seldom smiled, and when he did his placid features blurred like a pond disturbed by a stone. Mick had a tidy appearance, but his school satchel looked like it had been tormented by rats. Lived on East Glade Way. David Jackson – Spartan. David was a lad not noted for his humour. He possessed a face that always looked somewhat wind whipped, and in unhappy moments he had a face that reminded Zakes of a clock at twenty minutes to four. David strutted about in the manner of an egotist, head up, shoulders squared. He was always dressed immaculately and his satchel shone like his shoes. Also lived on East Glade Way. Trevor Lambert – Athenian. Trevor had only one imperfection. He was in possession of a ‘tit lip’. His top lip hung down like one of those shapely well formed breast’s that one would see, if they cared to make the journey down to Borlini’s Bordello in Beighton, where Zakes’ dad worked as a bouncing bouncer. Trevor was very athletic and could gallop faster than a horse. He was the fastest 100, 220, 440 yards runner in Zakes’ year, and the best hurdler. Only David ‘Steptoe’ Stephenson and possibly Martin Hatfield (Spartan) could out run him in cross country running. Trevor was a quiet and very modest lad and never had a hint of boast about him. He often had an embarrassed look, and he always worked hard with his school work. Trevor also had a shiny satchel, and his appearance was also presentable if you didn’t look at his cake hole. Lived on Thornbridge Way. Keith Widdowson – Spartan. Keith like Trevor, also had summat wrong with him. Keith’s problem was he had a prognathous jaw which meant his lower jaw stuck out like a sore thumb. His nose was quite flat and together with the unfortunate jaw Keith looked like a ringer for the man in the moon. From the profile side of things Keith looked like he was well capable of chopping giant red wood trees down with his hatchet features. Chess was Keith’s game, and bloodly good at it too. Zakes defeated his mate at chess now and again, but Zakes suspected that Keith let him win to keep to the right or left side of him. Keith also had a well polished satchel and was spotlessly dressed. Keith lived on the same road as one of Zakes’ Trojan hero’s, Steve Secker, a lad a couple of years higher at school. They lived on East Glade Road. David Stephenson – Athenian. David had a tinge of olive (family Zakes couldn’t afford them) colour to his skin which enhanced his half decent looks. David ran like the wind when it came to cross country running. Zakes preferred to hang back with some others on Birley Lane to have a fag or two in the Hawthorn Bushes. What’s the sense in sweating and having lungs almost at bursting point? ‘Steptoe’ was studious in class, but also enjoyed a giggle or two with his mate Zakes. David and Zakes were the two lads who did the impromptu comedy weather forecasts in class when no teacher was about. David was dressed okayish most of the time and had a dull looking satchel. He lived on Thornbridge Avenue. Next time - The Candidatesses

Satchels - Part 1 of 3. Zakes often wondered if the dinners at Birley School were created, then cooked on the premises, or if they were delivered, then warmed up. Nonetheless, he really enjoyed and was always truly thankful for what he was about to receive. Todays offering had been shepherds pie with all the trimmings, but he hadn't enjoyed the ever strange tasting cucumber that always reminded him of his cousin Daphne for one reason or another. The dessert had come second, and it was the thick set custardy Manchester Tart, that had been served up by a dinner lady called Colleen who was also a dab hand at Lancashire hot pot. Having quickly digested his meal, Zakes let free a supersonic, thunderful, ripping fart, the type that rolls speedily back and forth along any given curtain rail underneath a pithy pelmet. Having unseated himself Zakes turned and made to leave the dining room, and wondered why there were at least 14 children on the deck picking up cutlery that had strangely found itself upon the floor. More oddly, why were 12 others scampering in panic to the far left wall where the black gas marks were limply hanging. Entering the main corridor that led to the bowels of the school, Zakes heard the clacking of the typewriter through the door of the office where Miss Cayne the school secretary sat. She probably spent most of the day filing papers and her red, long, sharp, back raking fingernails, to fill out the time until 4 0'clock. Zakes stood outside her office in his maroon coloured blazer, and with emotions ablaze he gave the innocent door two sharp Terry Downes like straights to it's mid section. Zakes then pelted at full tilt along the corridor and was soon out of sight before the startled Miss Cayne could divorce her pert hind quarters from her chair. A pair of minutes later in the boys bogs on the first floor, Pete Lax, Paul Ward (no relation to Bob or Stephen) and Zakes were having an after dinner ciggy apiece, and excitedly discussing how many dynamic dynamite sticks it might take placed under the headmaster’s chair to blow him to kingdom come. They came to the conclusion that it would take at a low estimate 58 medium sized 9 inch sticks. These sticks of explosive could be acquired on the sly from a man living locally called Alfie Nober, commonly known as Mr. Nobbler who had a secret stash on wasteland close to the back of Scriven’s Fried Fish, Chandler’s greengrocery, Dorothy Donelan’s Groceries, Brown’s Butchers and Brightside and Carbrook Provisions, shops on Birley Moor Crescent. Zakes knew the explosive sticks to be reliable because he had used some on five occasions whilst fishing at Frecheville Pond, when he had run out of maggots. Pete and Paul became even more excited when Zakes pledged to bestow upon them the honour of becoming his pals of the decade if the plan to obliterate Mr. Lines came to fruition. During the first lesson of the afternoon session, Zakes had a quick lengthy scan around the formroom looking for a likely candidatess to take to the Rex pictures in intangible Intake in a few days time. The film to be shown was starring Hayley Mills and was called ‘That Darn Cat’. The film was about a feline repairing clothing that had holes, and Zakes was seriously considering taking some of his mum’s needles and cotton with him to that darned cinema in Intake, along with the lucky girl who would be escorting him. Next time – Zakes’ competitors in class.

Jungle Book 1967. Directly after school was done for the day, Reg Hudson (Corinthian) and Zakes (Trojan) quick gaited like glad gladiators down towards Birley Moor Road. On arrival, they traversed the main road and stepped onto the forecourt of the Esso petrol station. They greeted, then asked the attendant if they could have a Esso emblemed kite apiece that were being given away free of charge. The attendant told them that all the kites had flown off the shelf, but when the next batch came in he would gladly put two to the side for them. The two boys were soarly disappointed not to have gotten a kite, but became undisappointed when the attendant gave them both six bullet hole stickers each to stick onto their school satchels. The give-away items were usually offered only to persons who purchased petrol. Reg’s dad, it was rumoured, rode an E-Type Vespa bean can, but Zakes’ dad was a pedestrian, and proved it many times in the past by standing still. A fistful of minutes later the two thirteen years old classmates from Birley Secondary Modern School were stood on the footpath directly outside the Hudson household having recrossed Birley Moor Road. They had almost been ran over by a manic Morris Oxford T34 car, that roared off into the distance with a tiger in it’s tank. Having ended their intense chat about the girls in class at school, Reg and his good mate Zakes bade each other goodbye. Zakes watched Reg walking up his garden path, to make sure he got home safely. Zakes couldn’t help but notice the flaking red paint on the front door which had the number 116 crookedly pinned upon it. Moving rapidly apace, Zakes strode in the direction of home which happened to be at Newstead Rise which was nearer to the countryside than Reg’s house. Passing the dentistry at number 130 it occurred to Zakes that he had an appointment there in one year one month and one week’s time with the tooth doctor, Mr. D. Hughes. Going to the Zahn Arzt was something Zakes had gotten used to, and it was something he enjoyed. He’d had on several occasions been for a check up, and had had on three occasions extractions done which now left him with only fifty four tooths. Zakes loved having his tooths pulled because Mr Hughes would put that ‘gas mask’ type thing over his (Zakes’) face, making him feel like one of those pilots in that 633 squadron film frumt pictures a pair of years ago. A few or more minutes later, Zakes was stood inside Rippon’s newspaper shop and purchased with coinage his supply of comics for the week. He decided not to buy five Woodbines because he wouldn’t have enough money left over to buy any spice. Zakes then bought himself 4 oz of pineapple chunks because he liked them, and he would save one chunk to take to school tomorrow because he knew of a girl in class who would willingly perform a handstand for him in exchange for that one chunk. Zakes gave a smile and a wave to the splontoginous Mr Burgess who had just served him, then he left the shop because he wasn’t strong enough to take it with him. Having turned the corner from Birley Moor Road into Birley Moor Avenue, Zakes with satchel hanging from his right shoulder was dreaming of better days, when suddenly a big blue and white bicycle zipped down hill past him at an estimated speed of 57 m.p.h. The shocked Zakes looked at the cyclist who had now jammed his anchors on, and saw it was Jim Hardy who lived on D’Urbervilles Drive. The shaken up Zakes glared at the curmudgeonous pedaller and shouted, “Gerroff and milk it!”, and the quick lipped Jim snarled in return, “Ah can’t, it’s a bull!” Zakes was well and truly stumped by the retort he had received and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he stared into space. Turning into Birley Moor Road Jim lost control of his handlebars, and almost ended up having an argumentative argument with an articulate articulated lorry that just missed him by a gnats patella. Jim Hardy who was sometimes commonly known in the area as ‘Thomas’ was a robust lad who never rested on his laurels, which Zakes liked. Zakes had once seen Jim’s ex girlfriend Tess, but his new one was called Ethelbert and she was a reight little raver with raven coloured hair. For peace, quiet and privacy, Jim always took his girlfriends to the green woods over the fields at Birley because it was far from the madding crowd. As an afterthought, Zakes thought Jim ought to take advice from Zakes’ dad. Dad Zakes was a well known drinker who toured the pubs. Nobody had ever witnessed him being in a drunken state, which proved he knew how to handlebars. Marching down Newstead Road at a snails pace, Zakes who could have been killed five minutes ago was good mooded with a smile upon his acerbic face. Coming up the road towards Zakes was another lad from the locality. Rikki Ricketts was an homporistic woebegone type with a crook back and bow legs. Rikki held in his left hand seven long pointed arrows and a bow, and in his right hand he held a greeny pink coloured dog leash that could also be used to take crocodiles for a walk. On the lower end of the dog lead was a dalmatic dalmation dog called Tito. Zakes had once spotted Tito with his left back leg cocked up having a tiddle up against a lamp post on Thornbridge Close. Rikki also had another pet that was a mongoose that Rikki called Rudyard, and Rudyard lived in a rabbit hutch that stood in the back garden of the Rikkets phratry. Zakes enquired about the seven arrows, and the shovel nosed Rikki explained he was on his way to Frecheville Community Centre for his weekly archery lesson with Mr. Robin Fletcher, who liked to chew Arrowmint chewing gum. Rikki also told Zakes he would be taking part in an archery competition next week in Devon in a markettown called Tavistock. As time was tikking by, Zakes ended the conversation just as Tito started to sniff at his shiny school satchel. Zakes couldn’t imagine Tito being interested in bullet hole stickers or the Topper, Beezer, Sparky, Valiant, Victor, Hornet, Hotspur, Dandy and Beano childrens magazines. No, it must have been Zakes’ 4 oz bag of Ananas cubes. Could it be possible Tito wanted to perform a pawstand? The ever insouciant Zakes arrived home in an unpensive frame of mind and gently smiled to himself, because he had just remembered he would have control of what was to be watched on telly tonight. His parents would be going to the Spa Club to neck loads of booze, and his next brother up would be mucking about somewhere with his mate John who lived in the cottages at Moor Valley Way. His eldest brother would also be out and about, either boozing or playing football with his pal of the year George Crossland who lived on Thornbridge Rise or thereabouts. Zakes would be looking after his three years old sister who would be soon fast asleep after he dips her dummy into their mum’s perfume bottle and feeds it to her. In the kitchen, Zakes opened the door of the family’s non-designer fridge and found a cream cake made by Mr Kipling, whose products had arrived new on the market this very year. Whilst greedily nibbling his doorstep sized slice of cake, Zakes went into the parlour and made himself comfortable in his dads favourite sky blue pink with polka dots coloured armchair. Sitting pretty in the armchair Zakes looked through the window and saw a rock dove land in the vegetable patch and thought, ‘Watch it pigeon, I can still see yer’. Glancing through the Tivvy Times, Zakes felt like a gonk, but then he read there would be a documentary on later about birds of pray. There was a list of these church going birds:- Black – winged kite Black – shouldered kite White-tailed kite Letter-winged kite Scissor-tailed kite Pearl kite Swallow-tailed kite…… But no bloody sign of a chuffing ESSO kite! P.S. For those of you that don’t know, I have written other short stories on :- 1. Anybody from Hackenthorpe – Annelouise 2. Remember Birley School in the 60’s? - Zakes

Blues Legends in Sheffield in the old days? At the Leine Domicil music club on the Karmarschstrasse in Hannover I saw and listened to Champion Jack Dupree play on at least 4 occasions. This occurred in the 80’s and a friend and I were invited to visit him at his home which was in a tower block on the Hamburger Allee in the city centre of Hannover. We never did get around to visiting him, we were saddened when he died in the early 90’s. Am glad I still have some LP’s of him.

Brown Cow on MoWbray Street. Eighties. I used to go in the Brown Cow (Wards) in 1971 – 72 time, usually at Friday tea time. At that time I was working at Wigfall’s television depot also on Mowbray Street, at Bruce Works. On those Fridays us van lads and depot workers received our wage packets of between 5 and 6 quid (excluding overtime) and 3 or 4 of us would go boozin’. First port of call was the Brown Cow that had a half decent juke box with things like Maggie Mae / Reason to Believe by Rod Stewart, and the latest T-Rex stuff etc. I supped Newcastle Brown which I always ordered (requested) with a lamentable attempt at a Georgie accent. It got to the stage when one day the landlady threatened to have me thrown out if I didn’t start to speak properly. I quickly returned to my Sheffield accent and became a good boy after that. Aftet Brown Cow we’d go in’t Manchester Hotel (also Ward’s) and play pinball and listen to Loop Di Love by Shag and Make me an Isle by Joe Dolan on’t music box. Then finally off to The Big Gun (Stones) for table football and playing tunes from the jukebox like, Tracy by The Cuff Links, Julie, Julie from the White Plains and What are you doing Sunday? By Tony Orlando and Dawn etc. A few doors down from the Brown Cow was a post office (mentioned in post 11), and working in the post office was a lady aged about 60ish. I suppose she was paid a wage but she did sell sandwiches hot or cold. She also sold packs of fags that were piled up high on her side of the glass or grid (obviously). On the odd occasion I would go into the P.O. and order a fried egg sandwich.

Any Jazz fans left in Sheffield? I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing Tony Oxley play during my time in Germany 1978 – 92. One of the times was at the NDR Funkturm in Hannover when he played with a big band with players from the FMP label. Germany is a great place to be if you like jazz because there always seems to be something live on nearby. I have in my collection vinyl elpees with Tony playing on them, some under his name and some under others. Have some cee dees too. Some of the albums I love where Tony plays on them are:- Keep on drivin’ Don Sugarcane Harris MPS Fairytale Jasper Van’t Hof MPS Monster Sticksland George Gruntz MPS (poss. SABA) Meets Giorgio Gaslini Jean Luc Ponty P. Associati Creation Creation (Kuehn Bros.) Acanta Quartet Quartet Konnex Extrapolation John McLaughlin (Doncaster’s finest) Polydor S.O.H. Alan Skidmore View Some other European drummers who are getting on but who are worth having a listen too are:- Charly Antolini (CH) Klaus Weiss (D) Aldo Romano (I) Pierre Courbois (NL) Daniel Humair (CH).

Do they still sell Beech Nut chewing gum? Don’t know if Beechnut chewing gum is still sold here. I used to masticate that stuff like mad in my school days in the sixties. I always gave a piece to any girlfriend of the day to get (a)round them for obvious reasons…… Not to help me with my homework. The last time I saw Beechnut was nine years ago when I worked in beautiful Botswana in Africa. I was there as a cattle drover, boundary rider for Botswanan Meat Commission (BMC) but returned after eight months because of the intense heat. Am not a sun worshipper.

Old Blue Ball, Bradfield Road. Can anybody remember the name of the landlady who ran the Old Blue Ball (Stones) on Bradfield Road at Hillsborough during the 1966 World Cup? Do any of you have any anecdotes from about that time?

Whitbreads Brewery. I believe Peter Bradbury, a nayber of mine at Gleadless Townend during the late 60's - early 70's worked at Whitbread's Brewery dahn near't Wicker. Anybody remember him?

Dog and partridge, Attercliffe I went in this Stones pub a cuppla times 'bout 1973-74. The only thing I can remember is seeing a bloke who had negroid (is this word permissible?) features, but was an albino. His eyes looked reight scary. Does anybody else remember him?

TV / Film Extras Work Part 3 of 3. 5. Short film – Channel 4. I think Bekka had passed my phone number on because I received a call whilst I was reclining at home. I was offered a part in a film that very evening at the former hospital in Lodge Moor. I accepted then was told I would be picked up at 18.00 outside my home and taken to the set. On our way to filming we called in a the Hallam Towers Hotel to pick up the main actress (who now plays Dev’s wife in Corrie, this was before she had her nose job done years later). My part was to play a heart attack casualty just brought into hospital. 2 nurses and a doc were tending to me and I had several instruments inserted into my mouth down to me throat for part of the scene. I also had those orange pads stuck on my chest, and they were trying to revive me using those jump lead type things. Afterwards, one of the nurses (they were real ones) told me she was surprised I hadn’t gagged on the instruments because most patients do in real life. I would like to have known if she would have gagged doing the stuff I would have liked to do with her! She really did look like Linda Lovelace. After filming I was driven back home with 75 notes in my back pocket. 6. Film – Don’t know title. Frank is a friend and fellow extra, and we both received a call to appear in a film some days later. Frank and I made our way to the carpark at Owlerton Stadium to be there for 16.00. We dined in a double decked bus specially kitted out for dining. We were told by some film crew that we would be playing as football thugs along with another bloke in a scene. The scene would be filmed after MIDNIGHT! 7 or so hours later. Come late evening we were driven to the canal near the Holiday Inn (ex Royal Victoria Hotel). All I know is the film director was a Swede from Sweden and the main actress was a young up and coming star from Mexborough way. Her name I think was (is) Harrison. At the setting we met the other bloke (football thug) and we were kitted out with Arsenal football shirts and a can of Foster’s Lager apiece. Our part was to act drunkenly and chase after this gorgeous bird. We repeated this scene loads of times until the film director was satisfied. Afterwards we got a good feed comprising massive baguettes with king sized sausages as the filling to be washed down with more Foster’s (shame they didn’t have bitter). We also received a lift home from one of the crew at 3 in the morning. If any of you ever get extras (walk on parts) work, make sure to take a book or newspaper with you because there’s loads of hanging about which will make you tired. Don’t moan, always be polite and don’t be pushy, then they will take you again. Zakes.