Theres a new person moving into the village; goes by the name of Humperdink Jackson, he’s moving into the Old Police House. I’ve googled the name and turns out hes a master of disguise, a grey man with the ability to fade into the shadows. Not dissimilar to Dark M, who is the shadowy alter ego of M, we know M exists, and like matter we know Dark Matter exists, somewhere in the shadows or the recesses of our minds, which sounds like the lyrics from some sorrowful love Ballard from the Sevs. None of this proves anything and even less does it give me the chance to slip in the word prompts unnoticed; which is the name of the game, the point of it all, the reason for being, in the recesses of my mind- done it again, back on the time machine.
Bagsy the name Humperdink Jackson, I’ll use that later on. I did go to school for a year with the son of Englebert Humperdink, he was several years below me I think and may have been called Duncan, Eddie or Charlie or some such. Charlie Dawson, he wasn’t going to use the stage name, that would make him conspicuous and ridiculous. My Dad showed Englebert Humperdink his house I think, back in the day. Dad was an estate agent and he got to meet all the luminaries of Leicestershire, he definitely sold the lead singer of Showaddywaddy’s house; said it was a dump, beer cans and pants all over the place. Not something you’d expect owing to the snappiness of their dressing when on stage, heading down to the Trocadero and when Under the Moon of Love. I guess even the most staunch of lead singers and front men needs some down time. Check them out they were ridiculously popular, seems unbelievable now, but even more unbelievable is they’re still touring, they’re in Folkestone this Saturday, if you care to avoid the tidal wave of pastel suited teddy boys. Jesus, I’ve just checked and they’re pretty much relentless all year round, well they’ve got to earn a wage catch them when you can, they look pretty ropey to be fair, but then again we’re all heading that way.
I reckon that they should all be pretty financially comfortable because they were massive in the Sevs, for one terrible moment I heard Saville in my head introducing them on some kids variety friday afternoon show; the Horror. I wonder if they were ripped off by unscrupulous management, or shovelled all of their Crack-a-jack appearance money up their noses, back stage with Jimmy Cranky, Rod Hull and Emu. Schnorbitz guzzling on his barrel of brandy in the corner while on stage, Bernie Winters tells some soft flaccid joke about the wife’s underwear, before heading back in to sniff some grade A off Kikki Dee’s dressing room table.
This is how the seventies were, as I now see them, Basil Brush, Dick Barton Special Agent and being rescued by Mrs Tate when I fell in the Grand Union Canal. Iv’e a particular fondness for the muppets and when ever I see them now, splattered and smeared all over the telly, I die a little inside as I hear their voices haven’t weathered well with age.