Years ago, I used to be an avid listener of the radio, BBC Radio Two being my favourite station. On Saturday nights, I'd be driving around in my mini-bus delivering revellers here and there and tuned into the Martin Kelner late night radio show. On this show he had a feature called "Brown Bread", being a rhyming slang for "Dead"!
It worked with Martin giving a name, like Jack DeManio, or Englebert Humperdink, and contestants would phone in and tell him whether they thought that the named person was either dead or still alive. I cannot now remember whether any prizes were given, or the contestant just had the pleasure of knowing that they were right. Number One Son and I still might telephone one another occasionally and say "Jimmy Young (or whosoever); Brown Bread?"
Well, this is all working up to the fact that news reports of the demise of people "in the public eye" are not always true. For instance: In Cairo airport, on Tuesday as we were travelling home to Windy Nook, we came across the famous English All-in-Wrestler Mick McManus! There he was, as large as life, yelling instructions to other staff members (yes he's learnt Arabic) and directing passport wielding travellers on their way, you could have knocked me down with a feather!
No sooner had we left that part of the airport than we came across another 'mis-reported as dead' film star; one Boris Karloff, I was just about to type "as large as life" till I remembered that he was more likely to be as "large as the undead" when I remembered the type of role which made him a world-wide star.
The flight was relatively uneventful, I listened to my music whilst watching the two films in silent mode; they're more fun that way, although it can be a bit difficult to catch the different nuances here and there. When the meals came around there was the usual choice of meat or chicken; we get one of each in the hope that one of them will have potatoes (for me) instead of rice. I opened the chicken one to find rice, and Freda opened the beef one to find what looked like a preformed slab of mashed potato. "Oh goody!" I exclaimed, and whipped it away from her.
The chunks of beef were a delight, no fat or gristle and in a small amount of tasty gravy, the veg were sliced carrots (very good) and pieces of something else which I couldn't actually identify (but which was OK). Then I cut into the potato and popped a forkful (metal cutlery as well!) into the expectant mouth, only to find that it wasn't potato after all, but homogenised rubber! What a surprise. (Freda said it must have been pasta; that foreign muck which the poor foreigners have to put up with because they don't have potatoes!) I did persevere with it, and actually forced down at least a quarter of it, but that was quite sufficient; I'm not glutton for punishment.
Anyway, to get back to the theme of this posting; when we returned to Manchester International Airport, whom do you think we almost fell over? Davy Jones of the Monkees! Yes that's right, him that we've been told was actually Brown Bread. But he's not. He looks older mind you, with his hair, which he still wears long, going grey. And he's still wearing denim jeans as well; always a mistake on older gentlemen in my humble opinion.
But there you are, don't trust all that you read in the newspapers or see on the telly! Which reminds me of the kerfuffle regarding the imprisonment of the "Al Jazeera Three" in Egypt. Judging by much of the over-sensationalised and untrue reporting of Egypt's ongoing problems which I've actually seen for myself, along with the above posting, it just goes to show how dodgy it might be to call into question the Egyptian Court's opinion!
TTFN.
It worked with Martin giving a name, like Jack DeManio, or Englebert Humperdink, and contestants would phone in and tell him whether they thought that the named person was either dead or still alive. I cannot now remember whether any prizes were given, or the contestant just had the pleasure of knowing that they were right. Number One Son and I still might telephone one another occasionally and say "Jimmy Young (or whosoever); Brown Bread?"
Well, this is all working up to the fact that news reports of the demise of people "in the public eye" are not always true. For instance: In Cairo airport, on Tuesday as we were travelling home to Windy Nook, we came across the famous English All-in-Wrestler Mick McManus! There he was, as large as life, yelling instructions to other staff members (yes he's learnt Arabic) and directing passport wielding travellers on their way, you could have knocked me down with a feather!
No sooner had we left that part of the airport than we came across another 'mis-reported as dead' film star; one Boris Karloff, I was just about to type "as large as life" till I remembered that he was more likely to be as "large as the undead" when I remembered the type of role which made him a world-wide star.
The flight was relatively uneventful, I listened to my music whilst watching the two films in silent mode; they're more fun that way, although it can be a bit difficult to catch the different nuances here and there. When the meals came around there was the usual choice of meat or chicken; we get one of each in the hope that one of them will have potatoes (for me) instead of rice. I opened the chicken one to find rice, and Freda opened the beef one to find what looked like a preformed slab of mashed potato. "Oh goody!" I exclaimed, and whipped it away from her.
The chunks of beef were a delight, no fat or gristle and in a small amount of tasty gravy, the veg were sliced carrots (very good) and pieces of something else which I couldn't actually identify (but which was OK). Then I cut into the potato and popped a forkful (metal cutlery as well!) into the expectant mouth, only to find that it wasn't potato after all, but homogenised rubber! What a surprise. (Freda said it must have been pasta; that foreign muck which the poor foreigners have to put up with because they don't have potatoes!) I did persevere with it, and actually forced down at least a quarter of it, but that was quite sufficient; I'm not glutton for punishment.
Anyway, to get back to the theme of this posting; when we returned to Manchester International Airport, whom do you think we almost fell over? Davy Jones of the Monkees! Yes that's right, him that we've been told was actually Brown Bread. But he's not. He looks older mind you, with his hair, which he still wears long, going grey. And he's still wearing denim jeans as well; always a mistake on older gentlemen in my humble opinion.
But there you are, don't trust all that you read in the newspapers or see on the telly! Which reminds me of the kerfuffle regarding the imprisonment of the "Al Jazeera Three" in Egypt. Judging by much of the over-sensationalised and untrue reporting of Egypt's ongoing problems which I've actually seen for myself, along with the above posting, it just goes to show how dodgy it might be to call into question the Egyptian Court's opinion!
TTFN.
Are you having a laugh, Davy Jones still alive ? He was one of my heart throbs when I was a young girl? Mick MCManus speaking Arabic too? You must be pulling the proverbial leg!
ReplyDeletePulling the proverbial leg? If they weren't the actual people then my eyesight must be worse than I thought. Now, where's my specs?
ReplyDelete