Celebratory song of a thousand laughs

The sentence has truly flown - shorter, in truth, than some of those turned shamelessly loose around here. With time on for good behaviour, there should be a few more years yet.

Last week's column, at any rate, was humming along to the tune of In Eleven More Months and Ten More Days I'll Be Out of the Calaboose - its chorus beloved by dear old Bill Oliver in our Bishop Auckland office, its words long forgotten.

As ever, Gadfly readers have been spending their time educationally.

The song was written in 1930 by Americans Fred Hall and Arthur Fields, its first recording probably by Mack Allen - born Marion T Slaughter - who recorded under almost 40 different names.

Frank Young in Northallerton had long had a recorded version sung by Albert Whelan - "bought it from Woolworth's about 1930" - but when there was nothing left on which to play the thing, was obliged to start from scratch and tape it.

Ross and Dorothy Peden in Darlington were able even more greatly to help us out. They still have the sheet music - "The worldwide sensation. The song of a thousand laughs".

It is to be sung allegro con spirito, and without need of translation.

Ross is 81, once a well known local footballer, his wife 78. They were long-time youth leaders at Eastbourne Methodist church in Darlington, where Dorothy still plays the organ.

At home, and elsewhere when invited, they sing round the piano - Ramona, Carolina Moon and the one where the chap played his ukelele as the ship went down. "I was a Coldstream guardsman, that's where the voice comes from," says Frank.

We strolled up there, gathered round the joanna, struck up that glorious unchained melody - allegro con spirito, as requested - for the first time since those formative years in Bill Oliver's front passenger seat.

Now we play football once a week

And you should see the score

Every player steals a goal

He's stolen things before;

There's lots of folk would like to come

To see us when we play

But they built a wall around the place

To keep the crowds away.

There are 13 verses altogether - but time, as they say, marches on.

TOM Purvis in Sunderland, another who packed Eleven More Months into a 100 word e-mail, reports that on the radio the other night he heard the following:

Now folks in south Louisiana said Amos was a hell of a man

He could trap the biggest, meanest alligator, he only had to use one hand.

That's all he's got left 'cause the alligator bit him.

Left arm gone clean up to the elbow.

As probably they say in the calaboose, they don't make 'em like that any more.

TONDAY, August 30, 1965, was the first bank holiday at the end of the month - and the slowest of the century, traders insisted. Petrol was 4/10d a gallon, I've Got You Babe by Sonny and Cher had just hit number one. Dixon of Dock Green was getting an alsatian, Manny Shinwell voted 18-year-old South Hetton lass Kathleen McIntosh the new Miss Crimdon, Lears' ironmongery in Darlington closed after 200 years, Kip Keino ran a British all comers record mile in 3.54.2 and the TUC forecast a 35 hour week "in the relatively near future".

We weren't involved in any of those.

The first job, the apprentice boy's match, was to compile "50 and Five", the Northern Despatch's list of the best local cricket performances that weekend.

It was collated simply by scouring that morning's Echo. On a bad Monday the youngest might get the chemists' list to sort out, as well.

The list duly appeared that night, neither alphabetical nor in order of achievement. Ken Thwaites had hit an undefeated 113 for Normanby Hall, Geoff Mason taken 8-7 for Shildon BR, Brian Dobson 8-41 for Darlington against West Hartlepool. The first name, however - and therefore the first of many millions of words from the infant inky tradesman - was Gus Barkass-Williamson of Bishop Auckland, 102 not out against Blackhall.

If only he knew what he'd started.

IF brownie buttons are to be given out, what about the Scouts - these days of both sexes, of course.

Last week's column reported that Wrigley's are to sponsor a new environmentally conscious badge, not least in a bid to keep chewing gum off the streets. But how many badges are there these days? How many makes an armful?

Cubs, says a lady at the Scouts' Association, can tackle about 45. Every few months they hear of someone completing the set. Scouts may have a go at "roughly" 95, including aeronautics, smallholding, geology, information technology, martial arts and circus skills - tests on aerobatics, balance, manipulation, trick cycling, ground work and clowning. Only one scout has claimed a grand slam - as they might say in the wrestling badge - and not as wildly received as he might have hoped. "We don't encourage it," says the spokeswoman. "To do badges properly there shouldn't be time for 95. Scouting is meant to be fun."

WHOEVER compiles Guinness's promotional material, we noted a fortnight back, seemed rather less than a pure genius in the use of apostrophes.

They aren't the only Irish brewery, suggests Alan Archbold in Sunderland, to have trouble with the English language. The one below's a promotional card. Could it be, adds Alan, that the ad lads are spending too much time sampling the products they promote?

ELSEWHERE in the UK, we'd wondered - after a verbal tussle with a bus driver in Stockton - if Scottish bank notes were legal tender south of the border.

"No," says Eric Smallwood in Middlesbrough. "They're allowed to be used, but technically they can be refused."

"Yes," says Dawn Whitfield at the Royal Bank of Scotland in Darlington. The branch will accept them but isn't legally allowed to issue them, however.

"They're perfectly legal tender," insists Dawn. "It's just suspicious English business people who regard them as a forgery."

Old postmasters similarly recall exchanging just 19/6d for a Scottish pound. Others, particularly bus drivers, please note.

AFTER only 35 years, the column now plans a week off. In eleven more months and ten more days, however, we'll probably be in exactly the same place, and be very glad of it.