Go Ahead Punk - Make My Day

Us boys love movies where there is a tough guy as the hero. Die Hard (Bruce Willis), Dirty Harry (Clint Eastwood), Death Wish (Charles Bronson) etc etc. It makes us feel good. It makes us feel that we could do what they do – go after some punks who have ‘keyed’ the car or slapped your daughter about at school. Get the guy who has done you out of some cash or mugged an old lady in the street.

Yup- it was reading my ‘Lennox’ books which started all this off. The Glasgow Private Eye who was, himself, a bit of a battler and who could mix it with the best of them. A real Glaswegian hero – despite the fact that he was Canadian!

Then it was a true-story book called ‘The Kid’ where the guy growing up in unimaginable squalor in south London had to get tough in order to survive. He was dealing with some hard people and had to adapt in order to keep his head above the murky waters of the criminal fraternity he was engaged with. 

So, is it just me who feels ten times braver when we’ve just watched an action movie or read a book with an all-action hero in it?

I remember being in the cinema with my ex-wife (she wasn’t my ex-wife then – she was my wife) watching

some action film when some kids behind were kicking the seats and generally being a pain in the ass. Turning round and telling them to be quiet just made matters worse so we put up with it as best we could but had decided to move seats at the interval (in those days they had an ice-cream interval).


The movie had a real tough guy in it and as the interval started, I just adopted his persona and followed these four kids (they’d be about 15-16) into the toilets. I asked another guy to leave and then grabbed the biggest one who was standing at a urinal and pushed him face first through a cubicle door, hit his head off the wall and then stuck his face down the toilet pan and flushed and flushed and flushed. His mates were so astonished they did nothing but look. As I dragged the teen out of the pan, I told him and his mates exactly what would happen if they didn’t leave the cinema there and then.

Now I was quaking when I got back to my seat but I felt a bit of a hero. My legs were shaking and when my wife commented that I’d been a long time, I could hardly talk such was the adrenalin pumping through my body. ‘Oh and those pesky kids have left’, she said, quite oblivious to what had been going on in the toilets.

The problem was, I couldn’t enjoy the second half of the movie fearing that they’d go off and get their mates and be waiting for me outside. Fiona never did understand why I insisted on sneaking out of a side door.

And then life was relatively quiet until about twenty years later when J, her mother and I were watching Dirty Harry when there was a knock at the door of our house in Maidenhead – actually it was like someone wanted to kick the door in.

Now this was not something which happened in the leafy suburbia of Maidenhead but I opened the door and there was some kid shouting abuse at me – he was drunk!  His three mates stood half way down the drive egging their pal on but (a) having my movie interrupted and (b) having imagined myself in Clint’s shoes when he was saying those immortal words, ‘Go ahead (punk) – make my day’, I was in no mood to discuss anything with a drunk kid who had tried to kick my door in.

I grabbed the guy and threw him down the four or so steps which led to up to the door, followed him down, grabbed him and threw him through some bushes, got him stumbling out the other side and walloped him one.


It was then I remembered his three mates. When I turned round, they were running off up the street shouting ‘sorry mister – sorry’. I pointed the one I was holding in the direction his mates were going and booted him up the backside.

When I got back to the lounge where J and her mother were sitting quite unaware of what had happened, again my legs started shaking and I thought that these guys would be back when they were sober and it wouldn’t be quite so easy for me to get rid of them. Luckily, they never did.

Now what movie will I watch tonight? Yeah – Total Recall.   

Food, Glorious Food

I know I’m talking about food a lot at the moment but there’s a simple reason for that – J is on another of her régimes (a diet to you and me) - and it’s hell!

I do her a bit of a disservice claiming that her régime is purely about food, or the lack of it, as she’s taking to walking into the village and back a couple of times a week and that’s a total of some five to six miles in total. Very commendable.

I don’t know what started this latest crusade off. Maybe I said something – like ‘can you still get into your wedding dress?’ Or maybe it was when I said, on passing her in the kitchen and bumping into her, that she should have made the kitchen bigger. Whatever it was, when J is on a diet, we’re all on a diet.

The first sign is the fridge being filled with green stuff that even a rabbit would turn its nose up at and an overflowing fruit bowl. Being a Glaswegian and hence known as a ‘salad dodger’, being served up with lettuce leaves and low fat goat’s cheese is a crime against humanity as far as I’m concerned. I even found her weighing out my portion of gnocchi the other day as I was getting ready for lunch. What’s going on?

The kids get home from school about 5.30pm and they’re starving. Normally, I’d rustle up some pancakes or spam fritters to keep them going until dinner but the deep fat fryer now has a combination padlock on it and the spam remains on the supermarket shelf.

It’s just a shame, having read about a child being brought up in squalor in South London where he’d have to sneak down the stairs in the middle of the night to try and get some food from the fridge to keep the hunger pangs at bay, to see my kids salivate when I make Shadow’s dinner at night. Juicy chunks of steak in a gravy mixed in with his protein rich biscuits.

Their pocket money (or ‘allowance’ as Kitty calls it) is now spent, not on sweets or drinks in the village but sandwiches and stashes of bread and jam which are secreted under their beds. I reckon Social Services will be making a visit very soon. The kids are even banned from going over to Tan and Angie’s after they’ve had dinner to see if there are any scraps left! Even I can feel the weight dropping off me as my scooter now goes faster up hills – a sure sign that my weight is suffering.

And all the meals out we used to have (oh those halcyon days) have stopped. I even tried to seduce J into going for a walk the other day – to a local restaurant, but even that didn’t sway her. It was a two mile power walk there and back to the house (actually – it was there and back to the parked car – J hates walking up hills!).

And so I can’t wait until my trip to Manchester and Glasgow next week. Rag Puddings (steak and kidney suet puddings for the uninitiated) with lashings of chips and mushy peas. Steaks galore. Ten item breakfasts at my brother’s  house (see next Monday’s post). Haggis with all the trimmings. A Fish and Chip supper in paper late at night in Glasgow. A huge curry.

I’m salivating now as well!

The French Are Revolting - Again!

Next week I’m due to fly to the UK to see my family and to have a reunion with some guys I worked with at Chrysler and who I have not seen since 1995. Indeed, some might turn up whom I’ve not seen since 1975!

And what happens? The French unions declare a national strike which undoubtedly means that flights will be affected, if not cancelled.

The French ‘state’ is like an octopus – its tentacles reach into every part of commerce and society and of course, the airlines are not immune. Air France is ‘only’ about 20% owned by the state with the workers owning another 10%-15% but added together, this is most definitely a state-owned and run airline. In any other major economy, an airline would appoint its own CEO, but not here in France where Sarkozy determines who gets the top jobs. It’s just like a dictatorship – but don’t get me started, let’s get back to the strikes.

The French state is also the largest stakeholder in the Paris Airports group whose employees strike at regular intervals, and the air traffic controllers – well they strike if it’s raining on a Thursday such is their propensity to have a day off!

It all adds up to an anxious wait to see what will happen. The strike is due to start on the 23^rd and I’m due out on the 28^th so maybe they’ll have got fed up by the time I’m due to fly out.

In some respects, quite a few of us admire the solidarity of the French (must have come from the Revolution) with their blockades of ports when the wrong British ship arrives and their burning of British meat lorries (with animals inside) when they object to foreign meat arriving on their territory. We might also admire the solidarity engrained in the ‘common man’ (and woman) who march up and down Paris’s tree-lined boulevards in protest at something or other at the drop of a hat.

We  might also secretly admire the fact that when a British company wants to buy out the food group Danone (Yakult – good for your gut), the French government steps in and declares the yoghurt company of ‘strategic national importance’ and therefore cannot be taken over! Yoghurt - strategic national importance - what a laugh! 

It’s all a shambles! If only they had a Maggie Thatcher to sort them out. The picture, by the way, is one of the ways the French are protesting about the proposed increase in the retirement age. I assume they are trying to show that they'll be dead before they get their pensions. But who knows, it might be much more deep and meaningful than that!

The Ten Most Popular Unanswerable Questions

The world's ten most unanswerable questions include 'what is the meaning of life', 'does God exist', and 'what really happened to TV gangster Tony Soprano', according to new research. The full list is below and I’ll let you work out your answers before you see mine .....

1 What is the meaning of life?

2 Is there a God?

3 Do blondes have more fun?

4 What is the best way to lose weight?

5 Is there anybody out there?

6 Who is the most famous person in the world?

7 What is love?

8 What is the secret to happiness?

9 Did Tony Soprano die?

10 How long will I live?

And my answers are:

1 What is the meaning of life?

Anything you want it to be.

2 Is there a God?

Probably not but if you have a vivid imagination – carry on believing. It’s probably just as well quite a few people believe in a God as the world would be a far worse place if they didn’t. Just think of those around you – the God fearing/worshipping ones are much better citizens, on average, than the non-believers.

3 Do blondes have more fun?

I’m afraid the answer is ‘totally, absolutely, no doubt about it’.

4 What is the best way to lose weight?

Bulimia or liposuction.

5 Is there anybody out there?

Who’s asking? If however, we’re talking about space, of course there is.

6 Who is the most famous person in the world?

Depends where you live. Right now, in the UK it’s probably the Pope, elsewhere Barak Obama.

7 What is love?

Everybody has their own definition but why the big song and dance about ‘love’? Lust is a much stronger emotion and can be more easily defined.

8 What is the secret to happiness?

A good claret and regular sex.

9 Did Tony Soprano die?

Who’s he? And do we care?

10 How long will I live?

Ask an actuary. They’re not often wrong.

Mistresses - Watch Out !

A US woman who won $9 million (£6 million) in damages from her husband's alleged mistress said her legal victory sent a clear message to potential home-wreckers to "lay off".

Cynthia Shackelford, 60, a former teacher from North Carolina, was awarded the unprecedented sum by a jury in the United States for damages to her feelings under an obscure 19th century adultery law.

The award was made against Anne Lundquist, 49, an administrator at a private school, who was accused of having an affair with Allan Schackelford, a 62-year-old lawyer who had been married to Mrs Shackelford for 33 years.

Mrs Shackelford took Miss Lundquist to court in Greensboro in North Carolina, one of seven states in America where the so-called "alienation of affection" law is still in force.

It evolved from common law under which men were classed as property of their wives (and women, the property of their husbands). As property, they were something that could be stolen. Both men and women are now able to sue under the law in North Carolina, Hawaii, Illinois, Mississippi, New Mexico, South Dakota and Utah.

In a similar case, a Dr Lynn Arcara, used the same centuries-old “alientation of affection” law to sue one of her closest friends after the woman betrayed her by stealing her husband of six years.

Dr Arcara, who was several months pregnant with her first child, had invited her friend Susan Pecoraro to stay at her home in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, so that she could help decorate the nursery.

However, Miss Pecoraro, 45, embarked upon an affair with Dr Arcara’s husband, Russell, a retired US army officer.

When Dr Aracara discovered the affair, after giving birth to a daughter, the marriage ended and the couple divorced.

The 45-year-old radiologist launched a legal case to reclaim $5.8m (£3.7m), a sum based on the amount of money she would have earned if she had remained married to her husband.

Dr Arcara’s lawyer said that women seeking affairs should avoid coming to North Carolina.

Is this why my wife keeps encouraging me to go off to Monaco for the night so that she might have the chance to sue some rich woman if I stray ? Answers on a postcard please.

PS - Boys - recognise the picture? Yup - from the BBC series, Mistresses which I watched avidly.