The job consisted of washing up and waiting on tables in
a transport café on the A40. It was quite
a notorious café in its heyday. It would service the wagons with diesel and
service the drivers with a good British fry up which was all the rage in those
day. Breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner
was always the same, a fry up, these were the days before the M4 motorway when
the A40 was the main haulage route from Wales to “the smoke”. Wagons laden with everything you could
possibly imagine. Coal from the Rhonda
Valley for Didcot power station, lorries filled with fruit and vegetables
collected from the Avonmouth docks, Matchbox lorries filled with toys, bricks,
steel, wood, almost every kind of produce and material imaginable would travel
up the A40 and this café was positioned in an absolute ideal spot, roughly half
way and the drivers loved it.
The job was really quite interesting, especially if you
could give the coal drivers or the Walls drivers some cheek for a damaged pack
of ice cream or some sausages or get the coal wagon to tip up a little bit and
leave a heap of the precious black stuff, especially in the winter time. We would all share whatever any of us managed
to get, but the most exciting thing to me as a thirteen year old kid was every
now and again the wrestlers would come in on their way down to Cheltenham Town
Hall. Wrestling today is no big deal,
however, in those days, wrestling was massive.
ITV’s World of Sport would put on a wrestling match every Saturday
afternoon around half past four, and it would attract anything from ten to
fifteen million viewers a week. These
wrestlers were house hold names. Mick
McManus, his tag partner, Logan, they were definitely the ones in the black hats. The tag team always with the white hats were
the Royles, Joe and Burt Royle. Then
there was Jackie Pallo with his well-known pony tail, Johnny Quango with the
largest forehead I had ever seen. Bill
Toronto from Canada. These were the
school boys’ greats, I could go on and on but the list is too long to mention, and
my favourite was the comedian, Les Kellett, who would always give me a two bob
bit which is the equivalent to ten pence today.
“Have a go on that one armed bandit and if you win we will go halves,”
he would say. The one armed bandit was
next to a beautiful pin ball machine that I had perfected getting free goes on
as I never had any money and I could beat all comers on this machine, and right
next to that was the juke box.
One particular evening, towards the end of my shift, all
the wrestlers were in and I was constantly being rollocked by the boss for time
wasting but these wrestlers, I found quite mesmerising, for instance, Mick
McManus was Mr. Evil on TV, but in real life, he was a total gentleman, whereas
the Royles, who were always the nice guys on the TV were really quite
miserable, but Les Kellett was Les Kellett, he was the same off TV as he was on
and everybody seemed to like him. I had
just put the two bob into the one armed bandit when the boss came lumbering
down the centre of the café. “If I’ve
not told you once, I’ve told you half a dozen times this evening, sort yourself
out or I’ll pay you up until tonight then you needn’t bother coming back again.” This was serious as I used to give all my
wages to my mother as times back then were terribly hard and she could ill
afford to be without the little bit I was earning, however little, and it made
me feel quite big and grown up that I could help my mum and dad with this token
amount. I left the machine and carried
on washing dishes back in the kitchen. It was nearing the end of my shift. The
weather outside was raining and I had to walk to and from the café so I was in
no hurry getting out in it. “Sausage,
egg, beans and chips,” was shouted from the counter and tray in hand I was off
down the café as I recognized the number.
It was Les Kellett’s. The time
now was five past seven, five minutes after my shift had finished. I put the food down on Les Kellett’s table
that was also accommodating several other wrestlers. Les Kellett had a new wrestling move that I
had seen him do on TV that looked both amusing and hideous in the same
measure. It was called “The Mule Kick”
where he would get his opponent knelt down on the canvas and he would then
swivel round and seemed to kick them in the small of their back and I had asked
him earlier on in the evening if he would show it to me so I could learn it and
perfect it and then I could demonstrate it to my school chums in the school
yard.
“It is five past
seven, are you going to show me this mule kick or not?” I asked. The other wrestlers, Johnny Quango, Mick
McManus and Logan all laughed. Les
Kellett was out of his seat in an instance, he was moving quickly as he didn’t
want his food going cold. He got me by
the ear and marched me down to the machines, the music coming out of the juke
box was by the greatest band in the world, in my opinion, The Who with their
record Pin Ball Wizard. Les Kellett
knelt me in front of the machine, the other wrestlers were slow clapping and
Les Kellett started to do his long wind up.
He had my arm pulled up behind my back which was known in wrestling
terms as a “Backhammer” and then he let the kick go. I felt the kick in the small of my back very
gently and then I overdid the playacting.
I rolled all over the floor moaning.
By this time all the other drivers were stood up watching and cheering
but as I rolled about on the floor pretending to be in agony, the cheering
turned to jeering. Les Kellett knelt
down on the floor beside me and said “That shouldn’t have hurt.”
“It didn’t,” I replied winking up at him. He then slapped me across the ear.
“This will hurt,” and it did. “You really worried me you bloody fool.” The other wrestlers were laughing and so too
were the drivers now. As I got up from
the floor to the clapping and cheering of the drivers and wrestlers the boss
was stood right in front of me.
“Don’t bother
coming in again, here are your wages paid up to date.”
The wrestlers immediately rushed to my defence saying
that it was quarter past seven and that I had finished my shift. They also added that if I was to go they
would never come back into the café again.
“I’m so sorry,” said the boss, “I thought he was annoying
you.”
“No, not at all,” replied Les Kellett, “You’re annoying
us.”
I had caused a mutiny with the TV wrestlers and wagon
drivers.
I have told this
tale a thousand times and as I watched the rough and tumble of the badgers, I
thought of the old greats, Jackie Pallo, Mick McManus, The Royles and last but
not least, Les Kellett, I thought of them all, and how good they had made me
look for a short while in the school yard, demonstrating their TV catch-phrase
like moves on my chums but these badgers for downright entertainment would have
given any of those wrestlers a run for their money.
Daddy Cool keeps an eye on his play fighting cubs.
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