Nice Legs, Shame About The Face

Our good friend Pennyjane Hanson has brought me up all standing. Actually, I should, perhaps, explain that statement a little better. It is an English term of yesteryear that means you have been given ‘pause for thought’. I though I’d better explain just in case anyone misinterpreted the ‘brought up all standing’ bit 😉

Pennyjane has freely and proudly announced her presence on MMA not only by writing marvellous and elucidating and often funny comments but by stating that she is a Christian transsexual. Personally I don’t like the term. That’s ‘transsexual’ not Christian by the way. Pennyjane is a lady of the highest order based on what I know of her. She didn’t become a lady – other than the medical necessities required – she already was a lady.

The reason I have been ‘brought up all standing’ by Pennyjane is entirely due to my past. I wonder how many of us have things in our past we wish we didn’t have?

Of course, it’s the past and, unless you are Doctor Who you can’t change it. You can, of course, regret it, but you can’t change it.

They say ‘confession is good for the soul’ although as an agnostic the only soul I tend to bother about is Motown.

Back in the 70’s, when I was growing up, being gay – or, in 70’s terminology, a ‘puff’ or a ‘queer’ – generally resulted in a beating whenever you emerged from your home. The same applied to ‘Paki’s’ as they were generally referred to – aka Pakistani’s. They were the main immigrants to the north of England. Many is the night I would emerge aged 14 or 15 from a nightclub listening to the drunken chanting of other 14 /15 year olds (extremely drunk) – “Hey oh! The knives are flashing, we’re going Paki bashing”

Back in those days under age drinking was endemic and, indeed, epidemic in northern towns.

I found, quite by chance, I was different. My ‘crew’ consisted of about 30 people all told. About 15 boys and 15 girls. 13 of the girls were being shagged but 2 weren’t quite simply because 2 of the boys were gay. We all knew they were but, as they were part of ‘our crew’ and we’d known them since aged about 4 we protected them. On entering a nightclub we would donate our girlfriends to cling to their arms hence making them appear, whilst slightly effeminate, clearly ‘straight’ as they had girls on their arms.

I’m oddly proud of what we did back then as, frankly, the lot of us, both boys and girls, would have been beaten to a pulp if anyone had realised what we were doing.

I also, aged 16, met and fell in love with Kelly. ‘Kelly’ was the pet name for Khasera Mughol, a Pakistani girl attending the same college as me. I had no idea she was Pakistani when I first met her and was ‘smitten’. She had a sun tan so I assumed she was Spanish or something. In the event, whatever she was ‘reading’ at college she had clearly read the Kama Sutra!

When my pals discovered I was dating a Pakistani girl several of them ceased to be my friends.

“Shagging a dirty Paki!”

I chose to lose their friendship – although some are my friends again as we all got older and, hopefully, a little wiser.

After about 3 months of sheer bliss Kelly’s brothers found out she was dating a white lad and chased me down the road with large knives. Suffice to say I stayed away. They were Muslim and I wasn’t. End of really.

Now, why should I regret any of the above?

Well, as a young teenager, being accepted was important and, in order to be accepted I regularly joined in the laughter when someone described how he had beaten up ‘a puff’. I nodded agreement when someone said “We should beat all the Paki’s up and send them home”

I laughed and nodded agreement whilst, along with ‘my crew’, I helped protect two gay pals from being beaten up and I dated a gorgeous Pakistani girl who I adored whilst failing to defend her and her people against racists. I even laughed along with them.

I was a hypocrite.

Now, I know, you might say “Never mind Norman, it’s what you really did and thought that counts” and, I suppose, as it was the early 70’s maybe there’s truth in that but, I still feel guilty even after all this time.

Sitting in my pals car we’d cruise down the road in the summer and shout to girls in their shorts or summer dresses  “Hey! Nice legs!” and they would turn and smile – we would then shout “Shame about the face!” and screech away laughing. Many were undeniably pretty so why would we do that? Why did we do that?

So. Why did Pennyjane suddenly make my mind erupt in these memories?

No idea. Perhaps I’m aware that even in the 21st Century there are people who would not accept PJ as the gorgeous, intelligent and extremely funny lady she is and, perhaps, that sort of thought led to these memories resurfacing.

No matter. Confession is good for Motown – oops – the soul.

I feel slightly better for writing this all down. Hope you don’t mind.

Thanks PJ.

You really are a little star don’t you know x

‘Kelly’ contacted me on ‘Friends Reunited’ about 10 years ago. When I went ‘oop north’ we had a reunion. It was excellent!

She passed away last year from cancer.

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