Golden Memories: Another Weird Guy

I may have described this chap before and, if so, please feel free to fast forward. One of many local eccentrics in the 1970's, he was curiously torn between the conventions of an earlier time and the uncertain opportunities of a new decade. Like so many others, he was very bright, but painfully misplaced.

A round peg in a square hole.

Ferociously argumentative, chippy and odd, he left home asap, and lurked in the world of bedsitters, benefits, and sweaty clubs. A rabid Marxist, he turned every harmless conversation into an anti-establishment diatribe. No one could really call him a friend, his intentions were vague, and his behaviour edgy and eratic. His sense of humour was that of a sadistic torturer.

One evening a few of us were drinking in his room, and the cans ran out. He suddenly sprang to his feet and said he would fetch some more, returning within a few minutes carrying a bottle of whisky. Enjoying this unexpected generosity, it was only later that we discovered that he'd broken a window at the corner off-licence and helped himself.

The bouncers at our usual club hated his unworldly attitude and often threw him out on the slightest whim or excuse. Surprising, then, when he allowed one of them to lodge with him for a few nights. His benevolence was rewarded by finding the guy crapping in his sink late one night, then cleaning himself with the nearest towel.

He was a gifted chess player who represented the town (and on one occasion Yorkshire), so I was pleased to beat him once and draw another in five games. Next to the chess set always stood an empty milk bottle, and when I finally enquired about this, he replied:

"I wank into it".

Stranger and stranger, he wandered through a number of personal image changes, appearing one night with a shaven head and contact lenses. I lost touch with him when I went to Uni, but later heard he was studying politics at a nearby Poly.

Years later he passed me in the street with a knowing look.