Hello Vera

If feels as if the whole world has gone diet mad and in this street that falls into two camps, the 5:2 followers where the victims eat frugally for two days and behave like gannets the other five, or the aloe vera crowd. The aloe vera crowd are at the moment in the midst of a nine day detox with the aim of losing as much as they physically can. Catherine has become a rep for the products and she is championing the detox along with Jacinta, Mand and Rafe. They were originally joined by Ian, but each day involves the drinking of an aloe vera gel and by day two he had been sick every time he drank it, deciding that it clearly wasn’t for him.

Catherine is her usual passionate self when she starts a new project and as we are only into week two her interest is still fervent, by next week it will start to wane and by week four she will be saying ‘aloe who ?’, before swiftly moving onto the next thing. Mind you she had her work cut out trying to explain the diet to Mand, the only person on the planet who has never heard of aloe vera.

‘Why do you call her that, does she always say hello?’

‘It’s not a she Mand, it’s a plant, and it’s not hello, it hasn’t got an H.’

‘Hmm, I’m like not so sure about drinking a plant, I mean I wouldn’t drink a lettuce.’

The fact that Jacinta and Rafe were game finally persuaded her it was the right thing to do, and after day two she decided that ‘Ello Vera’ must be good for you, because it tasted so disgusting, like.

The 5:2 followers were Baz and Shirl, Ken and a late joining Ian. They had decided to meet once a week for the weigh in and to share menu ideas for the two lean days. Now I’m no Rosemary Conley but the way they are operating the diet doesn’t seem right to me, I understand the concept of two frugal days but I am sure you are not supposed to eat and drink like you are on holiday the rest of the time.

On the day of their first meet and weigh in, supervised by Garth, they had all had a reasonable weight loss of three pounds, except Shirl, the skinniest of the four who had lost five. This venerable event was followed by a four course curry dinner, with all the sides and a drinking bout that ended in a lock in and five very sore heads the following day. I shall watch the results of the next weigh in with interest.

Elsewhere in the street Reg was having a detox of his own, instigated by Margaret, who had read somewhere that too much processed food is bad for your heart.

‘I’m cutting him down to a sausage dinner every other day’, she explained to Jacinta.

‘Every other day?’ Jacinta had that shrill voice that gives it away when she doesn’t approve of something she has been told.

‘D’you think I’m being too harsh, he is struggling with it, he dreamt about sausages last night and yesterday I caught him staring at them in the Spar, he never looks at me like that.’

‘Too harsh, are you joking Margaret, I think he should give them up for a month.’

When Margaret retold this story to Reg later he went very red and after some thought suggested to his wife that she should review her friendship group.

‘I’m not sure I like you mixing with these vegetarians, I think you should definitely see less of Jacinta and that miserable one with the baby, Suzy is it ? I think they are trying to brain wash you.’

Margaret does pander to Reg a lot of the time but it was the first instance that he had tried to dictate her friends, I know she is not a vindictive woman but I have heard she has bought some vegetarian sausages, just for every other day you understand.

May Contain Nuts

Tom has been up to his old tricks again this week. I may have mentioned that he has a nose for a bargain and will often turn up in the street with a ‘buy one get one free’ offer that he has found in the supermarket. He could not be classed as stingy with his finds, the only problem is that he will proffer the free part of the deal at a price that is only slightly reduced from the original. Luckily most people see through this strategy, although both Mand and Catherine have been caught a few times. Mand does not have an issue with this, in fact she thinks that Tom is doing her a service.

‘I don’t like want two of anything, so if he is charging me less than I would pay for one, then that’s like, good.’

A few of us have tried to point out to her that the fairest thing would be for her to pay half, but she always fights Tom’s corner stating that he has to take his time into consideration and the cost of petrol. I get too frustrated with her to remind her that Tom neither drives or has to pay for the bus but if she can’t see his faults than that’s her problem.

He did go through quite a vindictive phase after Roger told him off for leaning against his wall and smoking, he would regularly turn up at the house when Suzy was on her own, forcing livers and kidneys onto her. She was quite vulnerable at the time and would pay the pound that he requested for the items, never daring to tell him that she was a vegetarian and Roger detested offal. Tom knew all along that their culinary taste didn’t extend to these foods but he was determined to get revenge for the reprimand.

This week Jacinta had given a bag of cobnuts to Garth, her sister had five cobnut trees in her garden and couldn’t get rid of the nuts for love nor money. She had collected several bags and had hung them on her fence with a notice stating, ‘Free to anyone that wants them’.

Nuts that you self crack are an annoying reminder of Christmas for me and the cobnut influx at the start of Autumn is too much to bear, so I wasn’t interested in this freebie. Garth passed on the news of his gift to Ken who in turn told Tom, who had an unusual level of interest for a man whose teeth look like they couldn’t chew their way through a blancmange, let alone a nut.

The next day I heard Jacinta telling Ken that all of the nuts hanging outside her sister’s house had gone overnight, she was delighted because there were several more bags to be gathered and up until now the take up had been slim. The following few days the nuts disappeared overnight and they were beginning to think that they were in the clasp of an overzealous squirrel.

It’s market day on Tuesday in the town and I was woken up early that morning by the sound of wheels being dragged up the path, on closer inspection I could see Tom wrestling with a shopping trolley which was bulging with its contents and had a box balanced precariously on top. He was wearing thick clothing, fingerless gloves and there was a money belt tied around his waist, I thought nothing more of it and returned to my bed.

Later that day I could hear the outrage in Jacinta’s voice as she complained to Ken about the sight she had seen in the market. ‘Local cob nuts, he was shouting, local cob nuts at knockdown prices. He was charging two pound for a bag. He even tried to sell some to my sister, the cheek of the man.’

Ken as usual had a very laid back attitude to the news, ‘you can’t blame the man for making the best of an opportunity, I think you should stop worrying.’

‘But he’s leading people astray, part of his sales pitch is the tale he tells about risking his life climbing the tree to gather the nuts.’

Ken’s howls of laughter could be heard clearly in my house at this news and finally Jacinta saw the funny side of it. That evening when Tom arrived home there was a notice pinned to his front door, he didn't know who had put it there but the message was clear, ‘May contain nuts!’

 

A Week of Celebration

 

Who would have thought that in the week that we had National Bacon Day (one of my favourite days ever, only to be topped by International Crisp Week or National Green Handbag Day) we would have so many other celebrations? Dear Queenie became the longest serving monarch, I’m not surprised she wanted to keep it low key, all those tedious programmes about the comparisons with Queen Victoria! Wayne Rooney become the country’s leading goal scorer with fifty goals to his name, a real achievement that I am sure we all celebrated (although at this point I personally was still on bacon day), and Reg and Margaret reached their thirty sixth anniversary.

I am aware that the rest of the national has not had much interest in this particular event but it has been the talk of the street, namely because Margaret has gone on about it so much, after Reg revealed that he had bought her a very special present. Every few years he goes against his normal personality traits and buys her a gift that is associated for the year, this Margaret has admitted, is very thoughtful of him. However she has not always been impressed with the presents that are given to her. The year that coincided with stationery he bought her a giant pad for shopping lists and a pack of ten BIC pens.

‘I didn’t really understand it, I love beautiful writing paper and I always use an ink pen, it’s almost as if he got it wrong on purpose’. Jacinta and Suzy nodded in sympathy.

‘That’s nothing’, said Jacinta, ‘For my thirtieth birthday Prithpal bought me a salad spinner and a pair of secateurs, he’s very lucky I didn’t cut a piece of his vital statistics and spin it for him.’

‘Roger once bought me a fly swat and a double pack of walnut whip’, before Suzy’s friends could comment on the thoughtfulness of the sweet aspect of the gift she added, ‘Seven years we’d been together and he still hadn’t realised that I’m allergic to nuts.’

Margaret seemed determined to switch the focus back to her, after their twenty fourth anniversary when Reg had bought her a ukulele, because he had read somewhere that the gift should be a musical instrument, they had a heart to heart, the outcome being that any future gift would be purchased with the knowledge that it would be relevant to Margaret in some way.

‘I did keep the ukulele but I smashed it up when my present the following year was a special sausage he had made, which he named after me. In fact I think the ukulele played a key role in the barbeque on which the sausages were cooked.’

Jacinta and Suzy looked at each other knowing that Margaret had won the ‘most rubbish presents’ competition, they also privately wondered why she had such high hopes for this year.

The reason for Margaret’s anticipation was Reg himself. He had confided in Ken, who had confided in Catherine, who had told Margaret, that for the thirty sixth year he was looking at the gifts that would be given on the thirtieth and sixth year and combining the two. Reg would not reveal the actual present but was happy to state that he’d had it engraved with both of their names and a heart.

When Catherine told her, and also revealed that it must be a combination of wood and diamond, Margaret was beside herself, her face lit up with joy.

‘Engraved you say? This is it, he’s finally got it right. After all those years, putting up with his tempers and the sausages, his outrageous opinions and the….sausages. At last the reward I’ve been longing for.’

I could see that Catherine was concerned that she had raised Margaret’s hopes too high. ‘I don’t want you to expect too much, and I’m not being disrespectful in any way, but this is Reg we are talking about.’

‘No, I must be right, don’t you see, it’s a diamond ring in a wooden box, he’s had it engraved, it must be that, what else would it be, what else would he have engraved?’

Catherine wracked her brains, a tankard, an identity bracelet, a dog tag, there were so many things you could have engraved, but none of them wooden or diamond, perhaps Margaret was right, maybe it was time for the diamond ring in a wooden box.

I know their house is next door to me so I probably hear more than most, but I’m sure the whole street could hear the shouting early the next morning, I say shouting, it was more of a high pitched screech.

‘Marg heart Reg! On a rolling pin! Who would do that?’

‘Well, clearly I did, it’s for us, to celebrate our life together.’

‘On a rolling pin’, Margaret’s voice had become dangerously steely, 'and where, might I, ask is the diamond.’

‘Now’, said Reg, sounding decidedly uncertain, ‘that’s the clever part, it’s the name of the person who did the engraving, I found him on the internet, Lennie Diamond, he’s done a good job, hasn’t he?’

Reg’s voice trailed off at this point and I can only imagine that he ducked, because rather than hit him, the rolling pin flew through the window into the road. I have a feeling any sausages left in the house may be soon to follow.

 

 

 

 

A girly night

We seem to have jumped into Autumn without so much as a goodbye or apology about the poor weather from Summer, still I do like this season, people know what to wear and the trees both smell and look glorious.

In Pavers Place the residents have also got into gear for the new season. Daphne is back from visiting her relatives and therefore Garth has returned to wearing the hideous jelly shoes, Ian and Raphe are back from their extended cruise and whilst Ian is sporting a lovely tan, Raphe has been overrun with freckles.  Gary and Harry are talking about putting the ice cream freezer back into the shed and replacing it with the Christmas card stand (always a bleak sign for me) and Catherine has the latest prospectus for adult education. She is considering which courses to try out this year, snail farming, hair extensions and wicker basket weaving all seem to be in the running for the term ahead.

Catherine was discussing her choices with Daphne and Jacinta in the street, she was probably trying to persuade one of them to join her, as she did me the year she tried belly dancing. I was moderately keen until I realised that you had to let people see your own stomach, the appeal went out of it after that and I gave up my place, in the end I think Raphe went with her, that man is game for anything.

Daphne was telling them, in rather a loud voice, that she was a trained beautician, she had let it slip since she went to work at the chicken factory but felt that her skills were still as finely tuned as they used to be. I have met Daphne close up on a couple of occasions now and although I found her quite friendly she is one of those people who speaks her mind and has no fear in calling a spade a spade.

‘I have a wonderful idea, why don’t we have a girly night, I’m sure Garth won’t mind, we can hold it at his house. I could do all your nails and it would be great to do something with your roots.’

The roots in question were Jacinta’s and she looked alarmed at this statement, as did Catherine who was more than a little taken aback.  

‘I don’t think Jacinta colours her hair, do you, I mean, there doesn’t seem to be any roots.’ It was unusual for Jacinta to be speechless but she just nodded in agreement with Catherine.

Daphne laughed at this, ‘If you insist dearie, but I could certainly intervene if you did decide a colour would help to offset your face.’

I was up close to the window by now, eager to see the look on both Catherine and Jacinta’s faces, but Daphne appeared to be the type of person who did not recognise offence when she caused it and she carried on regardless.

‘Never mind, we can still do the nails, both fingers and toes if you like. Let’s say Thursday, you bring some Labrini and I’ll do some nibbles, and ask that skinny lass, the one who says like a lot, calls herself Man’.

Daphne swept away towards the Spar leaving the other two looking red and annoyed, but as they had not actually said no it appeared that Thursday night was a date, although I could not imagine that Mand would be in attendance.

On Thursday evening equipped with one bottle of bubbly per person Catherine, Jacinta, Suzy and Margaret made their way to Garth’s house; they were joined by Ian and Raphe, who were seeking a manicure and Mand, who wanted to see for herself the destruction that Daphne had wrought on her precious Garthy’s house.   

‘I don’t like the woman, but I do need my nails doing and I like need to see for myself that he’s alright, like.’

If a girly evening is supposed to be a bonding experience it would be safe to say that this one failed on every level. Mand fell out with Jacinta after agreeing that her hair could do with being a shade lighter, Daphne was upset with Suzy because she had heard about the embrace with Garth the previous week, which also upset Mand. Raphe was annoyed with Ian because he didn’t help to defend him against Daphne when she suggested he needed a spray tan to hide, ‘those ugly freckles’. Catherine got into a rage with Ian when he suggested that she couldn’t hypnotise a snake from a basket, let alone a person seeking help and Margaret sat in a mood all night after Daphne referred to her more than once as Mrs Sausage. Thank goodness I didn’t go.

Catherine summed up the evening to Ken the next day when he was sitting outside the barbers, ‘I think that woman would manage to upset the corpse at a funeral, but she does do a lovely set of falsies.’ Praise indeed.

Rain, rain, go away

‘It’s bordering on the biblical’, those are the words that were uttered from Catherine’s lips last week when describing the torrential rain that visited us for the third day running. Now, I don’t wish to be a pedant, and everyone has their right to an opinion, but there is no way on this earth that an ark would make it down this road. I’ve seen more than one people carrier had its wings clipped (mirrors that is), on the journey from one end to another, and that’s been serious enough, but can you imagine if that were a couple of elephants and a giraffe.

The rain has been annoying and dampened everyone’s spirits, apart from Harry and Gary who are doing a roaring trade in umbrellas and rain hats, who knew they were still manufactured, let alone sold. One fact that revealed itself this week is that Suzy has a phobia and it manifests itself in a lot of screeching and howling.

It was Tuesday midday and people had been scurrying up and down the road all morning, attempting to avoid the puddles, other people’s umbrellas and the threat of a speeding car drenching you from the gutter. Of course the only person who did not respond in this manner was Garth, who has been back to wearing flip-flops since Daphne went away last week to visit her son.

 A lesser mortal, in flip-flops in torrential rain, would probably have some haste in their manner, not so Garth, he was sauntering along the road seemingly enjoying the squelch between his toes.

I must admit that watching him is quite relaxing, he is so laid back, however both he and I were stopped in our tracks when a sudden screaming came from number 11. Having previously proved himself as a knight in shining armour to Suzy he adopted this role again and rushed towards her house. By the time he got there Ken and Tom were at his side and even I was doing my own bit, having picked up the phone in case the emergency services were needed.

Suzy had flung open the front door and in between sobs was trying to form the word, ‘Help’.

Reg, in a much more sensible frame of mind than I normally give him credit for was the first to respond, ‘is it the baby, is everything alright with your daughter?’
Suzy managed to confirm that yes, everything was fine in that department, and as she seemed to be showing no signs of blood or broken bones I put down the phone and resumed my position as observer.

Garth, however, was much more proactive then either myself or Reg, who had retreated at this point, he stepped across the threshold into the house and wrapped his arms around the distressed woman, who immediately stopped wailing. I was so shocked by this open act of affection that I had to stand up to get a better view.

The flip-flop wearer and the young mother stood in an embrace for several minutes, they appeared to be on the verge of pulling away when a voice boomed through the rain, ‘can I be of some assistance?’ Garth and Suzy flew apart at the sound of Roger’s voice, who had appeared on the doorstep.  

It was the first time I had ever seen Garth flustered, the words almost stuttered from his mouth, ‘It was, er, Suzy, er, we were worried about the er baby…she was, em..upset.’

‘I am well aware of the situation with my wife, and pandering to her won’t help, she needs to pull herself together. Ranidaphobia is quite common but we don’t want her passing it on to our daughter’, and with that he swept Garth aside, ushered Suzy into the house and slammed the door.

Tom was the first to speak, ‘I never did like that man, and what’s ran phobia, she wasn’t running anywhere.’

Garth looked quite red and Reg gave him a supportive tap on his arm, ‘Not to worry, she seems alright, you did your best. Let’s hope she gets over the phobia though, I used to be a bit ombrophobic myself, but I take it in my stride now.’

Tom’s face was a picture, he looked like he had entered a world where none of the words made sense, but he soon came up with a solution, ‘I’m feeling a bit phobic myself at the moment, after all this drama, what say one of you fine fellows takes me to the pub for a drink?’

Keen to change the mood they all headed to the Short and Curlies, I, meanwhile had taken to Google to do some research. I could understand Suzy being a bit alarmed about frogs, in fact I also scream when they suddenly hop, but Reg being scared of rain, that’s just ridiculous.

 

 

 

 

 

The Vegetable Looky Likey Contest

Yesterday was national potato day, it would have been a great opportunity for the Spar to have a special offer on their potato based products, they have enough of them what with new potatoes, ready washed jacket potatoes, chips, hash browns, wedges or even their crisps. No special offer was to be found, unless you wanted a twenty pence reduction on your pineapple, tinned that is, they don’t sell fresh in the Spar.

Baz however was much quicker off the mark, he hasn’t had a function for a while so it was no surprise when he opted for a jacket potato and quiz night, and to make things a bit more fun he was having a Vegetable Looky Likey Contest. Now I’m not one to be a party pooper, I’m there for a bit of a giggle with the best of them, but I could only see disaster for this particular event, the rules were that anyone could suggest someone as looking like a vegetable, not in fancy dress, just their normal face and clothes. Baz and Shirl would be the judges and there would be a prize for both the person who suggested the winning entry and the poor soul who had the vegetable likeness.

You can imagine the commotion this caused in the street, especially amongst the women.

‘If anyone suggests I look like a vegetable there will be trouble’, Jacinta was the first off the mark, ‘how insulting, can you imagine if they said you looked like a sprout or a cucumber?

Catherine was trying to be more practical, ‘Surely it would mainly be a root vegetable, something that has more of a skin tone, like a turnip or a parsnip’.

‘Ted reminds me of a potato, a sprouting one, I think it’s all the hairs growing out of his ears, and he also smells a bit mushroomy’, everyone turned to Suzy, it was unusual for her to have an opinion on anything, least of all what someone looked like.

‘Not if you have black or Asian skin’, Jacinta had hooked onto Catherine’s comment about the root vegetables and the skin tone.

‘My Reg looks very beetrooty sometimes, especially when he and Ken have a run in, I don’t mind if someone suggests him.’

‘I think Daphne looks like one of those curly currant buns, a great big one, I’m going to enter her name’. Everyone turned to look at Suzy with disapproval, as far as I was concerned that statement summed up the very problem of the contest, it was Jacinta who gave an honest reply when she reminded Suzy that it was a vegetable looky likey contest, not food in general, and that her comment had also been unkind.

Suzy slouched off with her lips pursed in temper and at that moment she may not have resembled a lemon, but it certainly looked like she was sucking one.

On the evening of the quiz the pub had that distinctive smell of potatoes cooked in the skin, I don’t know how many people he was expecting but news of a potato shortage after the event would not have been a shock. As usual at a Short and Curlies event everything was a tad below par, the only fillings available were cheese and beans and the potatoes must have been the smallest he could find. The entry fee was five pounds and the profit was clearly going to be spent on the luxury cruise he had promised Shirl for next winter.

Finally we got to the part of the evening we had all been dreading but in other ways had also all been looking forward to, curious to know who would be brave enough to suggest a vegetable looky likey. Baz had to admit that he had been disappointed with the number of entries, he tried to make a joke about Shirl being like an onion, because she had many layers and could make grown men cry. The look on Shirl’s face revealed that the latter may be true for Baz and that he had better be ready with enough money to upgrade the promised cruise.

The two people who had put forward entries were Ken and Reg, an ooh went round the pub and Margaret in particular went a very strong shade of red.

‘I can announce that the winner of the £5 voucher to spend in the Short and Curlies is Reg, however as he suggested himself, we have had to go to adjudication, the prize for the looky likey person will be a £3 Short and Curlies voucher, not £5 as originally stated’.

Reg had suggested that he did look like the beetroot that his wife had thought and he started to go that colour at Baz’ announcement. As he began to say the words, ‘Adjudication – what the..?’ at the top of his voice, Margaret rushed forward to lead him from the pub. His shouting and cursing could be heard as she marched him down the street.

Ken shrugged and took his usual 'no worries' stance as he seated himself beside Mand and Jacinta, who were keen to know who he had nominated.

‘Myself, I said an ugli fruit’.

Ken started giggling as Mand assured him he was definitely not ugly.

‘I know’, he said, ‘but I am exotic’, his mood was infectious and soon everyone was laughing with him, except Mand who said,

‘I don’t get it’.  

‘I know’, said Ken, ‘neither did Baz, no worries.’

 

Sleepless Nights

 

I have not been a happy curtain twitcher, if you could see my face you would offer to help pack the enormous bags under my eyes. If you were to offer a wayward comment you may be shocked to see that my inner lioness has indeed reared its ugly head in time for International Day of the Lion. I am tired and ratty, if there is someone who needs taking out, give me a call, I am up for that task.

The reason for such a nasty mood from an otherwise calm (albeit inquisitive) person? Music! Loud thumping music, travelling through the air in the dead of night, assaulting my ears and waking me from my slumber. I am fuming.

The culprits do not even live in the street, they are Ian’s niece and nephews, house sitting whilst the pair take a trip to Portugal, topping up their fake tans with real ones and sipping exotic cocktails under tented canopies on the golden beach. I know this because the description has been repeated many times to Mand, Catherine and even Margaret, who having had the same two weeks in Bognor every year since she married Reg almost turned green with envy.

I hope Ian and Raphe have a lovely time, I honestly do, but turning over their house to three party age people is thoroughly irresponsible, and, if peace is not restored at night in the street, a riot could ensue.

Reg was all for calling the police, but was calmed by Jacinta, who likes to approach any problem in a more positive manner.

'They are just being young people, all we’ve got to do is put some boundaries in place.’

‘Boundaries, I’ll show them boundaries, let me box their ears, we’ll see how they like listening to music then.’

‘Hmm, that could cause them to increase the volume.’ I didn’t consider this to be particularly helpful from Tom, especially as Reg started to turn a spectacular hue of red.

‘It is only for two weeks’, Suzy had rarely slept since the baby was born and actually looked like the nightly party vibe was a welcome break from the relentless crying that she usually suffered, again the red in Reg’s cheeks darkened.

The small group eventually appointed Jacinta as the spokesperson and she agreed to talk to the three people in question.

That evening I looked forward to a decent night’s sleep, the term getting my beauty sleep could not have been more relevant, the lack of rest had my jowls heading towards my feet, by the end of the week I would be resembling the aged lion in looks as well as personality.

Sadly the softly, softly positive approach failed spectacularly and at two o’clock in the morning the road turned into one of the night clubs that the press have us believing are in sharp decline. The street looked like a scene from the Pyjama Game with Reg, Margaret, Tom and Catherine standing outside the offending house in various types of nightwear and slippers. I know I digress slightly but I would never have taken Margaret for a high heeled slippers type of person, although Catherine’s silky negligee was no surprise, or Tom’s balding towelling robe, which had clearly seen better days.

After a lot of banging and much shouting the music was duly stopped and everyone returned to their own house. The anti-music appreciation society had grown in size the next day and was in full flow when Ken sauntered over to see the cause of the gathering, a man who believed music could cure all ills he did however see the reason for our anger.

‘I can sort this out in two words,’ he said, we looked at him in awe of his confidence, desperate to believe this claim to be true, apart from Reg who snorted in derision.

Agreeing to leave the problem to Ken the group disbanded, hoping that a meeting the next day would not be required. Wasting no time he disappeared to the flat above the shop and reappeared again quickly with a tape recorder and a set of tapes, he then enlisted the help of Tom who he equipped with some head phones. Tom was given a seat outside number where he sat reading the paper and playing the tape recorder at full pelt.

After a night of partying the guests of the house were sleeping soundly, until the strains of the music filtered to their brains. One by one they came out of the front door, demanding to know what was going on.

‘Just listening to some sounds’, came Tom’s reply, ‘Barry Manilow, one of my favourites’.

The music played until 7pm that evening and Tom was there again from 7 the next morning. There had been no disturbance in the night.

The next day there was a meeting but this time to praise Ken’s ingenuity, he was unusually humble, ‘I stole the idea from the BBC’, he said, ‘no worries’.

I had to google it and sure enough the following story appeared on the BBC in 2006,

‘Barry Manilow has been enlisted to fight anti-social behaviour in Sydney, where his music will be piped into a car park to disperse youths.’

Ken was right, just two words - Barry Manilow.