Mrs. Belcher's Bosoms grew out of her hips !
Well great round things grew out of her hips which were the same size as the footballs that her son Jimmy Belcher kicked professionally for I think Leyton Orient, the East London team that lost every match it ever played or so it happily seemed to me, a West Ham boy who knew every team colour and ground name off by heart, not because I was particularly interested but because quarter to five on a Saturday afternoon was and still is results time!
Dee dum dee dum dee diddly dum dee dum dee dum dee diddly dum, diddly diddly diddly diddly dum dum! See I remember the tune sixty years later!
Or was that the introduction to Grandstand which showed boxing and proper sport and horse racing which I hated then and hate even more now and I have no idea why ?
And where is 'Hamilton Academicals' or 'Queen Of The South' anyway ?
And I loved seeing the colours of the teams strips on the tea and cigarette cards that I collected avidly if I could get to Grandma Myer'sis PG TIPS tea box before my brothers or cousins, which I rarely did and then ruined playing picture cards at home and at school.
I couldn't flick mine like the hard lads who I discovered years later glued two together to give them directional stability!
Grandma Kahan drunk Typhoo Tea as did my family and all they gave away was a soft cardboard picture printed in black and white that you had to cut off the side of the box and flopped when you tried to flick it and was useless and held in contempt by everyone including wimps like me !
I probably learned more from picture cards than anything else as I can't remember ever reading a book except occassionally opening and then rapidly closing an encyclopaedia that was as boring as it was heavy!
When I was at Art College in Leicester I was so poor, so hungry and so desperate that I took a job as an Encyclopaedia Salesman !
The initial meeting was fronted by a team of greasily dressed smug thugs who insisted that we chanted absolutely pointless lines like, " I want to be rich! I will be rich ! I will sell more Encyclopaedia Britannicas then anyone else has ever done !"
And then I was sent out to a smart area where I tripped over my unlearned script on my first call and the lady of the house informed me that I was talking gibberish and that she, her husband and all her children were well educated without referring to Encyclopaedia Britannica and didn't feel inclined to 'Invest' several thousand pounds filling her house with massive tomes containing information that would rapidly become outdated and advised me to give up immediately as I was obviously not cut out to be a door to door salesman !
I took her advice and walked to the nearest bus stop and went home without telling my team-mates or supervisor !
So in precisely twenty four hours I had gone from being a skint student ladies underwear designer to being an even more skint failed Encyclopaedia salesman ! That bus fare home broke the bank and when, later the same day I asked the teller at Lloyds Bank if I could extend my eight pound overdraft by a further two pounds she went off to the manager who peering over a glass desk divider at my pitiful state shook his head at her in denial !
So then I did what I did just about every weekend, I hitch-hiked down to London and home, pretended everything was fine, ate whatever my mother burned and went round to both Grandmas for tea, cakes and a ten bob note which is today's fifty pence, helped myself to a couple of quid out of mum's 'money drawer' and hitched back to Leicester to starve for another week !
Why I never got a bar job or a paper-round like other students did I don't know. Perhaps it would have interfered with drama club rehearsals and if it had then I might never have met Charles Dance and acted in a two-man play with him...before he got famous !
Anyway, Mrs. Belcher's Bosoms !
Mrs. Belcher was our next door neighbour who I can remember nothing more about than the mystifying masses that filled my small child's vision whenever she opened her front door to me.
I don't know why I would have even been knocking on her door as she had no young children for me to play with.
Perhaps my mother sent me on errands.
Or perhaps and the most likely explanation is that those things fascinated me so much, even aged six or seven that I just took myself round to try and work out exactly where and to what they were attached!
I've been doing very much the same thing ever since but no longer to Mrs. Belcher who would probably be one hundred and thirty by now!
But it was she who was responsible for initiating an interest that turned into a life-long quest !
Thankyou Mrs. Belcher!
It's just possible that had they been smaller and contained at a higher level then my best friend Kelvin and I wouldn't have got ourselves beaten up in a posh pub in Wanstead when we were seventeen and carrying out research on other men's women's chests, a subject I was startled to discover Kelvin had discovered of interest for himself without any input from me !
Not having women of our own and unlikely ever to have any, we found the only way to observe was to sit in pubs letting out an occassional 'Phwoar!' when some especially interesting articles passed by at eye-line height !
I've laboured this point slightly because the woman I conned into noticing me and then marrying me doesn't think any other man has the same interests as me !
If there are any chaps out there who have EVER noticed these odd things that women occasionally stuff into too small containers thus forcing them to virtually tumble out into our only just restrained palms, please let me know and we could start up a 'cover-up' campaign or a poster for the side of buses which would say, " You ! Yes you the underdressed woman there! Go home and get some decent clothing on ! "
Perhaps you have already thought of expresing your digust but have been waiting for me to emerge as your leader !
And certainly I know that I and many others were scandalised recently by the sight of thousands of young ladies sporting ultra short denim shorts which exposed acres of buttocked gristly cellulite enroute to a music festival on Newcastle's Quayside !
I must finally mention a quite disturbing example of over-stuffing that my sons and I were subjected to recently on holiday in Colonsay.
We had gone to the Pub Quiz Night that I've written about in a previous Blog.
What I failed to disclose at the time is that the 'Quizmaster' was a startlingly attractive twenty three year old young lady with a lovely face and long legs who unfortunately had chosen to wear a containment system that did almost everything but that, thus ensuring silence in the room, if noisy and lecherous drooling and deep sighing could be called silence !
For some reason Jonathan and Julian who were sat directly in front of her and both of whom I thought had very good hearing kept asking for questions to be repeated and they both approached her an unhealthily large number of times asking her to check their answers for spelling mistakes whilst the rest of the men cheered them for looking down her top !
I felt sorry for her, sat on a high stool with her legs crossed and wearing a loose-fitting summer skirt as she was obviously uncomfortable, perhaps a buttock had gone numb, finding it necessary to repeatedly uncross and then recross her legs slowly, adding to the increasing frisson of male helplessness and causing wolf-like howls and steam to escape all around the room !
I've never before witnessed a round of applause with cries of 'More!' at the end of a quiz for a quizmaster and felt decidedly uncomfortable for her boyfriend who will have to learn to live with this problem or seek out a mouse!
Personally I think that my sons would be prepared to live with the problem and I could try too !
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