Mystery of the naked bunch left out in cold

Would the mostly-naked men seen huddled in the grounds of the Royal York Hotel in Station Road, York, please come in now?

Their shivering presence was duly noted by a commuter on his way to catch a train at the station next door - and it has turned into a mystery.

The sight of naked flesh tinged slightly blue happened just as fire engines arrived at the hotel to investigate what later turned out to be a false alarm.

Could the huddlers have been sauna users in the hotel's Bodyline gymnasium caught by the fire alarm with their trousers down, or at least their shirts off?

Apparently not. The duty manager Laura Porter whose job it was to ensure a full evacuation of patrons as well as delegates of a number of conferences there at the time says she spoke to the management of Bodyline "and he is not aware of anyone leaving without their clothes. I am not aware of them either."

Fair enough, but could they still be out there, unaware of the all-clear?

Might it not be worth her while just looking out the window?

Disturbing allegations of bullying and intimidatory behaviour by an officer at City of York Council reached the Evening Press some time ago.

The officer was said to have been suspended following an investigation.

This seemed quite clearly to be a matter of public interest so our reporter requested a statement from the authority.

It took a while but eventually one arrived.

It said: "We do not comment on individual members of staff."

And that was it. Now Turpin thinks that isn't quite good enough.

Surely an important issue is at stake here. Anyone who can throw some light on this mystery should contact reporters Mike Laycock or Sam Greenhill on York 653051 on Monday.

More mystery - this time from the Wild West and the windy city.

Three amigos swaggered, or rather staggered, into town, after a fancy dress birthday party at the Bonding Warehouse in York, with a yee-haa or three.

Why, it was none other than Clint Eastwood, Zorro and, to upset the Western imagery, Chicago's own Al Capone.

It appears that they were all bad guys because they were seen on Clifford Street waving various weapons.

It was such a menacing sight one woman driver stalled her car as they approached.

The good guys in blue arrived and at least one of the trio - the copycat Clint - was issued with a warning about carrying a toy gun. Bet that made his day.

They are busy people at the Rail Users Consultative Committee for North Eastern England, dealing with umpteen complaints about overcrowded trains, late trains or trains that fail to turn up at all.

But the York-based committee also has to waste time dealing with queries which have no conceivable connection with its role as a railway watchdog.

The committee's annual report says there are really people around who think it is there to help them if they have bought faulty second hand cars, that it can give advice on how to start up a road haulage business and has an interest in satellite-based navigation and mapping systems (though that might help some train drivers).

It says other callers have thought it might know where the nearest public weighbridge is located, might want to regularly buy snow clearance equipment and might be willing to write the odd thesis for students.

A leaflet sent out by the City of York Labour Party proclaims: "Extra money for schools means that no child in a York school needs to go outside to the toilet. In some cases after waiting nearly 100 years."

They must have bladders of historical - if not hysterical - proportions.

Then there's the Labour ward leaflet which grieves me, because it refers wrongly to that part of York in the vicinity of which, they say, I met my sad end, namely Tyburn overlooking Knavesmire.

I go back long enough to know that Micklegate Labour councillors were wrong when they refer in their missive to Bracken Wood.

It's been Knavesmire Wood for quite a few centuries, folks.

Friends with attitude

The loony disease afflicting public relations people determined to tabulate the population into "types" has reached epidemic proportions.

The latest peculiar poser, this time from Alliance & Leicester is: "Are you a Rachel, a Monica, a Chandler or a Joey?"

Of course if you don't realise that these are all characters from the popular TV soap, Friends, then you cannot begin to answer this profound question.

It seems that these are four of the seven "attitudinal groups" discovered in a survey.

Rachels, for example, represent a fifth of the 1,000 surveyed and they are "spenders rather than savers". (The television Rachel works in Bloomingdales and splashes out all the time).

Then there are Monicas who represent the 16 per cent who are savers rather than spenders but averse to risk; Chandlers, 12 per cent, who are planners who don't take risks; and Joeys, 13 per cent, for whom money holds little interest.

Having run out of Friends - where are Ross and Phoebe? - the remaining categories are named as Older Traditionalists, Active Controllers and Comfy Conformists.

But ask the television stars where they invest and what's the betting that it's Friends Provident?

16/01/99

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.