About 25 years ago I was a young scally living on the dole in Liverpool. It was tough being poor, the girlies just didnt want to know, and there was never enough beer money. If you didn't work in the Giro, you never got invited to any of the parties, and never got to sh@g the tasty birds.
It didn't stop us having a laugh though. One of the things I remember was the funny names we used to invent for people, they still make me smile. It all started when we heard about a docker who had been nabbed by the dock police for robbing. In the paper he was named 'the cat'
Apparently he would wander around Bootle docks and stick his head down the ships hold shouting 'meowldfella down there?' ....I guess you have to say it with a scouse accent.
There was a guy in the pub that we called 'Destroyer' because he was always after a sub, then there was underpants, constantly on the bum. The manageress was known as 'wig an a mask' because , well, she looked like she wasn't real. The pub idiot was 'Cyclops' because intelligence is proportional to the distance between the eyes, and racker was named after a racoon, because he was ver ver dark skinned.
One night we were chatting up some of the birds and they mentioned a party they were having that night. John and I said, 'great we'll be there'
'I dont think so - its er, bring a bottle'
'No problem, I'll bring the vodka'
'And I'll bring the whisky'
When they left, my mate and I looked at each other, what had we done ? There was no way in a million years we could get two bottles of spirits, and we had just bragged to 'The Parrot' that we would be able to. (We called her the parrot, because she liked a cock or two) 'Local talent' and 'Thysa' had heard also.
There was only one thing for it. I was making home brew at the time, using old spirit bottles to hold the beer. We filled a vodka bottle with tap water, and the whisky bottle with cold weak tea. We lit a candle to put a layer of candle wax on top of the tea, then put one shot of Grants on top, curtesy of my mum.
We arrived at the Parrots place and her brothers were there waiting for us, they took the top off the whisky bottle , sniffed it then put the tongue in. They were gobsmacked, we were genuine. We hid the bottles then got stuck in to the ale, stayed till about 6 am, saw all the girlies off to work in the Giro, and nursed bad hangovers that lasted a week.
ah, happy days
It didn't stop us having a laugh though. One of the things I remember was the funny names we used to invent for people, they still make me smile. It all started when we heard about a docker who had been nabbed by the dock police for robbing. In the paper he was named 'the cat'
Apparently he would wander around Bootle docks and stick his head down the ships hold shouting 'meowldfella down there?' ....I guess you have to say it with a scouse accent.
There was a guy in the pub that we called 'Destroyer' because he was always after a sub, then there was underpants, constantly on the bum. The manageress was known as 'wig an a mask' because , well, she looked like she wasn't real. The pub idiot was 'Cyclops' because intelligence is proportional to the distance between the eyes, and racker was named after a racoon, because he was ver ver dark skinned.
One night we were chatting up some of the birds and they mentioned a party they were having that night. John and I said, 'great we'll be there'
'I dont think so - its er, bring a bottle'
'No problem, I'll bring the vodka'
'And I'll bring the whisky'
When they left, my mate and I looked at each other, what had we done ? There was no way in a million years we could get two bottles of spirits, and we had just bragged to 'The Parrot' that we would be able to. (We called her the parrot, because she liked a cock or two) 'Local talent' and 'Thysa' had heard also.
There was only one thing for it. I was making home brew at the time, using old spirit bottles to hold the beer. We filled a vodka bottle with tap water, and the whisky bottle with cold weak tea. We lit a candle to put a layer of candle wax on top of the tea, then put one shot of Grants on top, curtesy of my mum.
We arrived at the Parrots place and her brothers were there waiting for us, they took the top off the whisky bottle , sniffed it then put the tongue in. They were gobsmacked, we were genuine. We hid the bottles then got stuck in to the ale, stayed till about 6 am, saw all the girlies off to work in the Giro, and nursed bad hangovers that lasted a week.
ah, happy days
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