Drums the word

RADIO 1 DJ Mark Radcliffe's recently-published book, Showbusiness - Diary Of A Rock 'n' Roll Nobody is all about his other career - playing in dubious rock bands.

What readers might not realise is that the drummer in the improbably named Bob Sleigh and the Crestas was none other than BBC Radio York's sports producer Jules Bellerby.

"He was known to everyone as J.G. Giant on account of his considerable size, his constant good humour and his ever-present green pullover, which reminded us of the celebrated jolly green giant of golden niblets of corn television-advertisement fame," reveals the author.

It gets worse: "We provided a succession of novelty attractions, which on this occasion included J. G. Giant's Your 100 Best Tunes (which involved rolling around on stage with a drum and a cymbal screaming 'the hills are alive with the sound of music')."

The only hint at JGG's true identity comes on page 153 with the following description of how the band split up: "J.G. Giant went back to York where a career in social security fraud and local radio sports reporting awaited him."

Turpin confronted Bellerby who issued a stern denial. "It was not the Sound of Music, it was Singin' in the Rain. Time and booze have addled Mark's memory."

JG Giant, who is actually 6ft 1in but says in those days he looked bigger because the others were all shorthouses, fondly remembers one performance at a venue in Manchester where the band outnumbered the audience.

"We postponed the performance for half an hour and went outside busking. We doubled the audience in no time."

Nowadays he restricts his musical performances to special occasions which are usually alcohol laden, like his wedding reception a few years ago (he could not quite remember what year).

"Those years were a fantastic time. If the audiences enjoyed themselves half as much as we did they would have had a fine old time," he confesses.

Mark Radcliffe is appearing at the Booked! Christmas Party at The Shed, Brawby Village Hall on December 9 at 7.30pm.

THEY say your answer phone message reveals your character. The five-word revelation greeting anyone who calls Robert Hall, chairman of York Medical Society, must speak volumes.

It says simply, tersely: "The rottweiler's name is Moses."

Weird, the uninitiated might say. But it offers a hint of security against any burglar who phones his victims first, and it also amuses. Because Turpin has heard the joke that this message comes from.

To tell the joke you must be able to put on a high-pitched, screeching voice. Ready?

This burglar broke into a house in the dead of night and while poking about the pitch-black lounge with his torch heard someone say - in the high-pitched voice - "Moses is watching you."

"Who's there?" said the frightened burglar. "It's me, Polly the parrot," said the voice.

"Polly. That's a stupid name for a parrot," said the burglar.

"Moses is a stupid name for a rottweiler but he's watching you," said the voice.

COULD Impressions Gallery be making a bid for Pseuds Corner, that depository for all things pretentious in Private Eye?

Here is the cutting-edge photographic gallery's explanation of Bluntcut's film Psychostasia, which was shown in York last night as part of Organic City, a 12-part project that relates the 12 organic systems of the body to our historical city.

It reads: "Featuring artists from the telluric economy this film inflates an incredulous narrative about a deadly hallucinogenic bubblegum called Psychostasia. The script is a dub remix of the Andrzej Wadja classic, Kanal.

"Psychostasia uses subtitles to draw you into the colon, underground into the sewer networks and transport systems. It is a CD Rom for the end of history, the end of philosophy, the ends of man etc ad nasium (Sic). Art like bubble gum is not easily digested." Maybe not, but surely art is usually easier to digest than this press release.

FRAUD squad detectives, Customs & Excise inspectors and Interpol snoopers can call off the dogs from the Banana Warehouse, that second hand furniture emporium in Piccadilly, York.

But let's face it, suspicious circumstances were written all over the notice which appeared in the window: "The boss is away. All prices reduced."

According to manager John Muir, the boss, Dave Dee, is away - on holiday in Kenya - and what is more he is quite aware that John planned a sale.

Any hint that skulduggery is going on simply feeds the shopper's delight at being part of any naughty escapade against the boss.

"A lot of people lured in by the notice have bought furniture," says John.

Actually, boss Dave may have given permission for a sale but knows nothing about the notice.

John says: "He'll forgive me when he sees that the end justifies the means. Otherwise I might find myself in the dole queue!"

AGUITARIST'S worst nightmare happened only hours before a concert in York featuring the celebrated acoustic duo Show Of Hands.

Their guest Vladimir Vega, a musician jailed after General Pinochet's coup in Chile in 1973, broke a finger nail while practising at English Martyrs' Church Hall, Dalton Terrace, last Saturday.

He went round to the neighbouring priests' house in search of Superglue but only succeeded in giving the inhabitants the impression that he was in desperate need of nail varnish remover.

It was like a scene from TV's Father Ted.

Eventually Father Hugh Curristan arrived and was able to sort out the confusion, sending Vladimir to a nearby newsagents where he was able to buy the glue and repair his nail.

"It all became clear when I realised that Latin American guitarists use their finger nails as a plectrum," said Fr Curristan who spent part of his ministry in Peru. Vladimir's quick-fix withstood the rigours of playing to an audience of nearly 200 and the concert was a great success.

TURPIN was shocked to learn Humberside police are tracking one of his contemporaries. A despatch landed on newsdesk alerting them to an armed robbery in Hull. It describes the offender as "male, white, approximately 220 years old".

Police added that "he was noticeably spotty possibly having suffered from acne problem at sometime". Sometime during the industrial revolution, presumably.

NOT EVERY book makes the list of best sellers, but out there are some right riveting reads. If you like a bit of light bedtime reading, for instance, how about Pedagogical Lexicography: A Case Study of Arab Nurses as Dictionary Users?

Or what about Musculoskeletal Disorders in Supermarket Cashiers.

For those in need of the subtle touch, there's Woodcarving with a Chainsaw, or Psychotherapy and the Bored Patient.

The publications were all contenders for the coveted award of Oddest Title of 1998 reported in literary magazine The Bookseller.

After not much deliberation the title of titles went to Developments in Dairy Cow Breeding and Management: And New Opportunities to Widen the Uses of Straw.

THREE WEEKS and still no word from Mr Racum. He is the chap who wrote asking for details of our letters column, signing himself E B Racum.

Turpin was not fooled and replied accusing him of either being a hoaxer (Eboracum was the Roman name for York) or having a most unfortunate handle. Mr "Racum" has not had the good grace to respond - to admit he was rumbled or to effect outrage at the accusation.

Then again, would you want to own up to such a weak and pointless ruse?

28/11/98

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