Truck Yeah….

It’s been a year since I talked about how Ollie Reed managed to get an Asian elephant called Lucy over the Alps teaming with Germans during WWII, so let’s crack on. Close your eyes (not really keep reading) and imagine it’s the 16^th of May 1986. I switch the TV on, tuned into BBC 1 and settled in to watch the visual extravaganza known as Dallas (or as I saw it at that age, all tits, and teeth) but tonight was going to be different in a weird way. I usually tuned in to perv over Lucy Ewing, but I watched in astonishment during the final episode of season 9 as Bobby Ewing is having a shower after dying a year earlier from the injuries sustained by being run over by his sister-in-law.

For those of you that missed it, Bobby’s wife wakes up to the sound of the shower running, thinks that’s unusual as I live alone or maybe it’s a one-night stand freshening up, best go check. Goes into the ensuite to find her dead husband showering as if nothing has happened and is greeted by the immortal words Good Morning.

Now for the numpties that did not spot the link between my last two blogs here it is – the elephant was called Lucy and so was my secret perv.  My point is I’ve been missing in action for about the same time, but I have showered and Good Morning my Global Audience or as they say in the latest RAM adverts doing the rounds, which always makes me smile, Truck Yeah!

Just to clarify my position, I watched Dallas solely to see Lucy Ewing a posh sex kitten with exceptional fine puppies that spent most of her time in a bikini lazing around the pool and not for any other reason. Oh, and Patrick Duffy who played Bobby Ewing was a shocker with one exception, he played Mark Harris in the Man from Atlantis in 1977. Now respect is due to Patrick because that was the weirdest way to swim I have ever seen (Google it people) and by far the best episode was when he took on a massive Portuguese man o’ war.

The next bounce….that was the seventies when things were simple and swimming around the Indian ocean like some kind of weird mermaid fighting an exceptionally large jellyfish seemed the things of fantasies. But reality has a way of slapping you around the face with a wet haddock, tweaking your nipples in a bad way then finishing you off with a Chinese burn. I’ve been made redundant so I travelled back to blighty for Christmas as no one was hiring and on my return stuck a set of Winston Churchill’s up to the establishment and started my own business. My first contract was working for a menopausal Canadian who made my life a living hell, with my second contract working for a bunch of clues Indians (although one was a Mexican) who I don’t understand but they expect me to sort out their platform migration which they had cocked up – life was easy watching Lucy Ewing puppies and riding my Chopper around the Corby New Estate.

When you hit hard times, you certainly find out who your real friends are, who you can ask for help and who will climb over your bloody body to get up that corporate ladder. Now that might sound a bit dramatic, and I have thrown some writers’ license at it, but I reckon I suffered from feeling a bit resentful and a touch blue. So instead of spiraling further down that dark tunnel I have decided to host a Big Blue Table with my three mates in the name of men’s mental health.

But I didn’t do it in the end as I read through the material provided by Beyond Blue and it made me think that all it takes is to reach out for no reason. I arranged to meet the boys for a beer and a chat about anything and not to force the conversation but to see where the company takes us. We discussed everything from football to Trump, occasionally commenting on the fairer sex and inevitably discussing our troubles over a beer with three blokes who were born 10,508 miles away from me. Gents its OK to talk, it’s hard but you will feel better for it so please don’t go through the bad times alone chat to someone because it does help, I know.

The second bounce…instead for a Blue Table, I planted a wildflower meadow behind our pool for the Minister for War and Finance (and myself but don’t tell her). Now calm your farm, slow down and take a breath, I know that we would all like our first world problems to be cleaning the leaves out of our feckin own pool but bear with me my global audience i’m on a roll.  I know your thinking how does he get from Lucy Ewing perfectly formed puppies, a wildflower meadow and onto the Modfather, well sit back and enjoy this mental floss (that’s a nod to men’s mental health) people….

In September 1993, the Modfather released his second solo album Wild Wood. It reached No2 in the UK Album Charts with the single of the same name reaching No14. Now a little-known fact about the album was that it was inspired by the Scottish singer song writer Dovovan’s 1967 double album, A gift from a flower to a garden (which is an inspirational ablum title by the way!). My Global audience I give you the Modfather, Paul Weller and Wild Wood which he played at the Sydney Opera House in December 2024 – now ignore the two weirdos part way through, its the Minister and my good self sporting Sonney Crocket stubble from Miami Vice (god the ’80s were good!) Enjoy!!!!

I also watch the Human League in Sydney at the Elmore Theatre in the March, the girls aren’t quite as I remember them and Oakey has no hair (Google his barnet) but it was a god night.

With that, be safe, be kind regardless of race, religion, creed or pronouns! – SAVVY