The (North West of England) Empire Strikes Back : A Peter Kay Moment
Read Time:5 Minute, 31 Second
Now before I begin, I will explain to all you poor poor Americans who do not know who Peter Kay is, that he is, quite frankly, the greatest comedian on the planet Earth.
You may, possibly, have seen him in ‘Phoenix Nights’ if it’s ever been broadcast over there or you may have seen him in Doctor Who in a David Tennent / Billie Piper episode called ‘Love and Monsters’ as an alien being known as an Abzorbaloff….
However, it has to be said, that his live comedy performances are rather specific to the North West of England. Specifically Lancashire and Yorkshire. My home turf.
I have no idea what you Americans will make of this post – or even if you will begin to comprehend it. That is not intended as a patronising statement by the way. If somebody posted in Mexican I wouldn’t have a scooby. In fact, I occasionally struggle to comprehend American…
I returned to the North West of England this weekend for A) A school reunion and B) to visit my mother – who steadfastly refuses to die.
I have considered pushing her downstairs but, as she lives in a bungalow (a one floor house) this is hardly a practical solution.
The school reunion was…er…how about “awesome”? Ty Pennington says that a lot so it should suffice.
The two chaps above are, left to right, PP and Gaz. Two of my best pals since the start of senior school…ie…about 12 years old.
Both are now millionaires and then some. Not surprisingly, they bought most of the drinks at said reunion.
They have nothing to do with my ‘Peter Kay’ moment but I thought I’d introduce them anyway ’cause I love them dearly and seeing them at reunions is a highlight of my year.
PP actually lives nearby to where I originate from. Gaz is mainly in Dubai. Nothing to do with camel fetishes I hasten to add…
Right.
My Peter Kay moment.
On stage and live, Peter Kay takes the piss out of his Northern brethren. He tells them how daft (stupid) they can sound and they love it – I’m no exception.
On the Saturday night ‘oop north’ I attended a 50th birthday party. I knew virtually nobody there other than the one who was 50, his wife and my mother aka The Dragon. All others were complete strangers.
I went outside for a cigarette.
An unknown blond lady said “Hello” – fair enough. She then went on to inform me that – (without pausing for breath)
“The police came by a minute ago and that silver car’s door was open and they closed it properly and said if it belongs to anyone in the party will you tell them they left their door ajar?..and I shouldn’t smoke really as my mother died last year but she never smoked, it was a heart attack not cancer or anything but my dad said, and he’s got really bad knees after that cold spell, that I spend too much on cigarettes and as my mother died – not through smoking of course – I suppose he’s right really and I’m only here as my husbands is the second cousin of the nephew of Steve who’s party it is”
That, my friends, is a greatly edited version……and there’s more.
The next outside cigarette break found me with four complete strangers. Three men and a woman.
I lit my cigarette and inadvertently caught the eye of one of the men.
“I’ve survived cancer twice” he announced to me, a complete stranger attempting to enjoy a quiet cigarette.
“Oh…erm…jolly good….er….well done” I responded uncertainly.
He then continued as follows….
“It was my pal Dave who spotted something was wrong you know? He saw me in Asda (a English supermarket) and said “You don’t look right” so I went for a check up….the wife took me….the specialist was very good. I told him I was a biker. Barry Sheen, do you remember him? The British Biking Champion had the same as me you know? He took a different option to me though…”
At this point, knowing the history of Barry Sheen, I responded “What? Death?”
The subtlety was lost….
“No” continued this complete stranger, “he wouldn’t have the treatment so he died but my wife said I should and look at me now. It all started really when my grandmother got bunions on her feet and couldn’t walk properly and someone, oh yes it was Dave, said you aren’t walking well either so if it wasn’t for my grandmothers bunion I’d be dead”
If you ever visit the North West of England and strike up a conversation with anyone – the choice of doing so will not be yours incidentally – you will realise that any topic that you could discuss and complete in 10 minutes will take several hours and include the family lineage and any ailments suffered by ancestors.
An American friend of mine living in Rochdale once asked a sales assistant in a hardware store where he could find the screwdrivers.
By the time he had obtained the required screwdriver he had been in the hardware store for two hours and had been informed that the sales assistants father had died in a coal mine collapse, her mother has been certified as insane, her husband had been arrested for drink driving, one of her children had attention deficiency, her sister was married to a violent drunk, her cousin was being posted to Afghanistan, her brother was training to be a funeral director, her uncle was currently ‘missing’ in Uruguay and her youngest son was destined to play for Manchester United.
Please visit my home in the North West of England. Lancashire or Yorkshire or, more specifically, Oldham in Lancashire but, allow at least four days of your visit for learning all about the trials and tribulations of complete strangers.
I love ’em!!!!
If you ever get the opportunity, watch Peter Kay live.
Everyone laughs at the truth – mainly as they’re Northerners and whilst they know it’s all true they don’t believe it’s really them.
It is.
Later’s and let’s be careful out there….
I did consider writing this entire post in ‘Northern’ but you really would have had no idea.
I can just imagine our Mikey editing ‘Northern speak’…oh I really should have done it!!!
Ee by eck! Tha don’t noor nowt dus tha? Al si thi……
I leave you with Inspiral Carpets who, whilst considered part of the Manchester (Madchester) scene of the 90’s are from Oldham. Bless ’em.
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Hello Dinners,
I’ve been reading quite a few of your posts/blogs. Some hilarious & some sad. Some from our school days (I had no idea about – or can’t remember some of the stuff you write about. But I think do remember you telling me about the 3 seconds thingy)
I’ve only just started to experiment with that foreign stuff like garlic bread (Thanks Peter Kay).
I still live in Oldham (well, the bit that used to be in Yorkshire) & can confirm everything you have said is true. If you don’t remember, I come from Glodwick & I watched the riots first hand, then retreated back to my safe haven in’t th’ills.
By the way, I nearly went to the reunion. Wish I had now, especially as Gaz (GAT) was buying. I have been known to sink the odd Stella or three.
Who is PP in the photo? I could still recognise Gaz although I last saw him when I left school in 1974(ish).
Any road up, I’m waffling now – must be my age. Oh, you are the same age!!!
I’ve ‘ad a quick shufty for you on t’interweb thingy that them young ‘uns use (Facebook). If you remember me, give me a quick poke or summat – not in the biblical sense though. (use my real name).
Laters,
Ttiggurd.
The Last of the Summer Wine I love that show.
Thanks for the warning. I’ve been to Yorkshire but it was a very long time ago.
I’d say you’ve got a story to beat theirs, though — when you were almost shot during the airport robbery.
Abzorbaloff? Sounds like a Russian brand of paper towels.
ee by gum mum I gotta a numb bum – Just for you Mr. Dinners.
ahhh…my fault…embedding disabled…oops…sorted it…God I’m thick!!!!…;-)
er…were’d me vid go? This is gettin waaaay to complicated old bean…I copied and pasted as per instructions but it don’t work…it did…now it don’t…owt changed?
No worries here old beaner. We gave up on editing you. Life is too short… 🙂 🙂