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Oh, God, really? Don't tell him, will you? I was even ashamed as I was doing it!


Ok, now I feel I need to clarify: it wasn't like we molested him in the street or anything. It was at a gig, he was on one of those platforms that comes out into the crowd doing his Jesus bit, he was inches away fom us, a kind of fever took hold of us... My friend mouthed "Touch his trousers!" I refused, but then she did it, laughing hysterically, so I did too. Peer pressure, you see. That or just that mad out-of-body experience you sometimes get at gigs where you'll say or do something you wouldn't have done in any other circumstance, like, say, scream "KIM DEAL I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!"


Mind you, if you know who Kim Deal is, you'll understand that's an entirely reasonable response.

PinkyB Wrote:

-------------------------------------------------------

> Nope. Not even remotely.

>

>

> (By the way, I'm not really Portuguese either.

> Solid English stock, way back to about 1840, and

> before that only Welsh and Irish. There's not an

> exotic bone in my body, sadly, although I've

> always rather hankered to be Russian.)


What happened in 1840 to make your good Celtic DNA turn all Anglo-Saxonified?


Back on topic, my best mate in the 4th form claimed to have snogged the then-current (mid 70,s) Milky Bar Kid's sister while on holiday in West Wales...fame by association, eh?

Ah Pinky, a broadly similar historical happenstance that lead to my own Anglo/Irish/Scots/Welsh ancestry. Oh, and that Hitler- if not for him my Dad wouldn't have joined up, been posted to Wales, met me Mum...


If you go back far enough maybe you've got an odd bit of Roman in there- does Italian count as exotic?

I'm sure if I go back far enough I'm probably a bit French/Danish/German and Italian. But then that's pretty much everyone else in the country too. Including all those "British til I die" BNP trolls.



Reminds me, though, did anyone see Barbara Windsor on Who Do you Think You Are? Hilarious. Not only did she not realise you had to push the button to get the doors to open on a train (woman of the people, my arse), but she also couldn't comprehend why in the mid-19th century her ancestors might have left a lovely picturesque little village in County Cork to go and work in deathtrap factories in London instead.


Of course, you still get people who think that now. "But why would you leave Cornwall to go and work in noisy, dirty London?" "Er... because there are no jobs."



Back on the subject of this thread, I once exchanged comments about the lack of paper towels with Jane MacDonald of The Cruise fame in the backstage toilets after a recording of Never Mind The Buzzcocks.

102 hours and 43 minutes playing the clarinet!!! That's over four days! I bow down to you, sir, that is indeed an impressive record. Does it still stand? People these days seem to concentrate more on really outlandish records like how many Jaffa cakes you can eat underwater, or how many staples you can staple to your hand without fainting.

The record was broken the next year by some school band from somewhere like Southampton. The bastards. Actually we could take regular breaks individually during playing, just as long as there were enough still playing without the band stopping completely. We did it inside a big tent at the Motor Sow at the NEC and it drew a big crowd - we raised thousands for Muscular Dytrophy and later even had Sir Dickie Attenborough fly back from Africa (he was making Ghandi) to watch us perform on stage and accept the cheque (he was the President of the Charity). Hey that's another claim to fame, don't you think?


I also tried to break the world underwater jaffa cake eating record but failed after just one mouthful. Funny you should mention that one.

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