by Calvin Wade
On the Saturday afternoon of my Stag Do, I had a temporary glimpse into the world of David Beckham. Obviously, David Beckham does not spend his time handcuffed to a dwarf, who goes by the name of ‘The Blue Goblin’, but as our Stag party walked through Blackpool town centre and even more so at the Pleasure Beach, it felt as though I was as famous as Beckham. Every man, woman and child turned to look at me. A large proportion even reached for their mobiles and ran after us, so they could capture the moment for posterity. Several, especially a whole load of Japanese holidaymakers, wanted their pictures taking with us. I guess it isn’t every day of your life that you see a balding fat bloke handcuffed to a blue, big eared dwarf. It really was surreal.
To start off with, the whole thing didn’t bother me. I anticipated the handcuff joke would probably last the remainder of the afternoon or possibly into the early evening and it would then be over. After the laughing masses left our bathroom, I gave Will a ticking off for letting them all in, although to be fair, with hindsight, I realised it would have been impossible for him to keep them all out. I awkwardly and self consciously managed to dress myself, with a little assistance from ‘The Blue Goblin’ who seemed happy enough to help me. He must have been experienced in dressing with handcuffs on, as he knew how to angle himself around to assist me and would hold items of my clothing when I needed him to. We didn’t really engage in much chit chat in the early stages as my natural disposition with strangers is a shy one. I needed time to adapt to my predicament. I asked Will to go and knock on my Dad and Arthur’s door and tell them we were going to the Pleasure Beach for a few hours so if they would rather go and do their own thing for a few hours, they were welcome to do so. I told him not to mention that I was handcuffed to a goblin, as I was hoping by the time we met back up with them, someone would have brought the key and released me. Will, ‘The Blue Goblin’ and I met the rest of the lads in the local pub and after a quick pint and the anticipated ribbing, we walked down to the Pleasure Beach, on the way transforming every member of the general public into a temporary member of the paparazzi.
The first time I really started to talk to ‘The Blue Goblin’ was in the queue and on the ascent to the peak of Blackpool Pleasure Beach’s, ‘The Big One’ rollercoaster. I established his name was Tim, which was certainly less of a mouthful than ‘The Blue Goblin’ and that this was not just a one off for him, he had the unfortunate job of being handcuffed to people for a living.
The lads thought Tim may have been stopped from going on ‘The Big One’ due to height restrictions, so circled around him in the queue to prevent him being sent out, but the closer we got to the front, the more we started to notice nine and ten year old kids were getting on, so height didn’t seem to be a big deal. Not surprisingly, the lads made Tim and me sit at the front of the carriage. I’m not overly comfortable with heights, so as we slowly clanked our way up the climb of over two hundred metres to the highest point, I wanted to keep chatting to keep my mind off where we were.
“These handcuffs are a digging in to my wrist, Tim. Can you just get the key, so I can loosen them?”
“The key to the handcuffs? I don’t have it, Simon. Your mate, Joey, gave it to the coach driver for safekeeping.”
“The coach driver! He’s not coming back to get us until tomorrow afternoon. Where are you going to sleep?”
“Next to you!”
“I’m in a single bed.”
“Looks like I am too, Simon. I can’t do anything about it. I just go where I have to go.”
I’m not sure if it was the mention of having ‘to go’ that triggered an unwanted realisation in my brain.
“So every time I need a wee in the next 24 hours, you have to come with me.”
“Afraid so. Don’t worry, I won’t look.”
“Hang on! What if I need a dump.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do.”
“That’s just fantastic.”
“Simon, if I were you, I’d be more worried about when it’s my turn.”
Just as Tim said this, we reached the highest point of ‘The Big One’ and after the long climb upwards, we very slowly tilted downwards, giving us a fantastic view of the Fylde coastline and the Irish Sea, before dropping vertically at stomach churning speed. Not being experienced in rollercoaster travel, Tim began to cry out. It was a mix between a scream and a yell. I yelled out too, not out of fear but out of frustration. I had been stitched up good and proper and what I had hoped was going to turn out as one of the best weekends of my life, now had the potential of becoming a complete disaster.
ZARA – May 2012
On Saturday afternoon, we were all on the beach, right by the Pleasure Beach. Candice had given us all Baywatch Lifeguard outfits to wear, so we were wearing our orange swimming costumes, cropped jackets and each carrying a small, blow up float. I guess it would have seemed really funny if there hadn’t been such an atmosphere following my revelations to the groom’s sisters. All the Great Dunmow girls seemed to be getting on handsomely with each other. The poisonous atmosphere only existed when I was in the presence of any of them.
It all became too much for me when they piled up their floats, drew out a court in the sand and started picking sides so they could play with the beach ball they had bought earlier. I was the last one picked and I could hear the other five on my team grumbling about having me. I decided not to make it any easier for them to give me a hard time by announcing that I was going for an ice cream. I asked if anyone else wanted one but everyone said ‘No’ or shook their heads with the exception of Lucy, who was on the other team, who decided to come with me.
“They all hate me!” I moaned once we were out of earshot of Pamela Anderson and her gang.
“Zara, what do you expect?” Lucy reasoned, “you told the groom’s sisters that the bride was away shagging some other bloke.
“I didn’t say she was away shagging another bloke, I just said she had gone back to a blokes house and anyway, no-one bothered to tell me they were Patrick’s sisters. A warning would have been nice!”
“Sorry, I should have said, but I wasn’t anticipating you opening your big gob like that!”
“I’m sorry. I just thought they were all Candice’s mates. Anyway, why am I the bad guy, why aren’t they mad with Candice too?”
“Candice managed to wriggle her way out of trouble. She didn’t stay out long as Ziggy sprinkled his stardust pretty quickly, if you know what I mean.”
I did know. Lucy meant that Ziggy fell asleep.
“Anyway,” she continued, “she ended up coming back to The Cheshire about five o’clock. She went to her own room first, but you were in there, so she didn’t have a bed, so she ended up sleeping in with me.”
“Where was your bloke?”
“He’d gone home by then. Anyway, after your revelation, the sisters arranged a search party and found Candice in with me. She just denied everything.”
“Why didn’t Sam back me up later on?”
“Zara, why would she? She’s Candice’s Maid of Honour, they’ve been mates since they were six.”
“Brilliant, so everyone hates me, but they all still love each other.”
“What does it matter, Zara? They all have to live in the same town together. You’ll probably never see any of them again after tomorrow.”
“I might see them at the wedding,” I said this more than half joking. I wasn’t going to be buying a new outfit for the night do after this.
“Just forget it and enjoy the rest of the trip away.”
“I can’t though. I don’t like being everyone’s enemy,” I stuck my bottom lip out for dramatic effect.
“Have a few drinks later and put it to the back of your mind.”
“I’m going to have to have more than a few. I can’t face them any longer whilst I’m sober.”
“Zara, I’ll stick with you tonight. We’ll get hammered together.”
I knew Lucy’s offer of sticking with me would only last until she started attracting ma
le attention, but it was still comforting. It would have been much worse if she had joined ranks with the rest of the baying mob.
“OK.”
“Oh, by the way, those magic blue tablets worked a treat. It was like making love to a broom handle! When we get back to The Cheshire, remind me to give you a condom and tablet for your handbag, tonight. A drunken bonk will sort everything out.”
ARTHUR – May 2012
I was forced into going to Blackpool for Simon’s Stag Do by my daughter, Nicky. I am seventy two now, not twenty two, so joining a group of rowdy, drunken young men for a night out in Blackpool had as much appeal as me getting a mohican and becoming a punk rocker. I went solely because I love her and would walk across burning coals to keep my girl happy. Given the choice beforehand, I would have done the burning coal walk rather than attend the Stag Do.
The coach trip across to Blackpool, highlighted all of my fears, as there was a lot of drinking and vulgar singing. There had even a bit of a ‘to do’ before the coach departed. A man who Simon feels was culpable in his young brother’s death had tried to join the Stag party and was confronted by Simon. I think the blame for that one does not lie at Simon’s feet though. If he had spent more of his time over the last twenty years being as animated and passionate as he was in those few moments, perhaps I would have thought more of him. As the coach departed, I was grateful that I had taken the seat directly behind the coach driver, as I was away from all the mayhem. I had a pleasant conversation with Simon’s father, Frank, who was seated next to me.
Once we arrived in Blackpool, we were pointed in the direction of a shabby looking Bed & Breakfast by Joey Neill, who seemed to be in charge of all the arrangements. Not surprisingly, our B&B was only marginally better on the inside than it looked from the outside. Despite its very limited charms, I was happy to be in my bedroom there, away from all the frivolity. I was sharing a twin room with Frank and was enjoying reading the Daily Express, when my grandson, Will, knocked on the door. I was dreading a request to go out and join the rest of the group, so I could not have been more relieved when Will said they were all going to the fair, but we didn’t need to go.
“Are you happy just staying around here, Frank, rather than going to the fun fair?” I asked.
“That’s fine with me, Arthur. I am not sure I want to be cooped up in here for too long though. Shall we could nip down for a couple of quick pints later on this afternoon?”
“Sounds good to me,” I replied.
A couple of hours later, whilst the rest of the Stag Party were no doubt on Helter Skelters and rollercoasters, Frank and I were sat in a Wetherspoons enjoying a couple of pints of stout.
“Are you wishing you were on the Big Dipper now, Frank?” I asked as I took another enjoyable drink from my pint.
“Arthur, if I went on a rollercoaster at my age, I think it would just about finish me off!”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t, Frank, but the whole noise of the funfair, the screaming and shouting, the loud music, it is certainly not my idea of fun.”
“Nor mine, Arthur”
“I think these modern day pubs are bloody rubbish too, but the beer is cheap and is going down beautifully, so I am certain we made an excellent decision!”
“We certainly did, Arthur.”
After slapping ourselves on the back, we did what us old folks can’t help but do, we reminisced.
“When was the last time you came to Blackpool, Frank?”
Frank put a finger on each of his eyebrows and pushed together and apart as he thought.
“Must be thirty years. We used to bring Simon and his younger brother, Colin, to play in the amusement arcades. They used to love them. You could give them a bucket of penny and two penny pieces and it would last them the whole afternoon! What about yourself, Arthur? When were you last here?”
I had been asking myself this same question.
“My mother and father regularly used to bring me to the beach, when I was a child, just after the war. Blackpool was the place to be then, wasn’t it? The beaches were packed, the promenade was heaving and the Piers always had big stars performing on them in the evening. I remember staying in the Imperial Hotel once and it felt like my parents had come up lucky on the pools coupon. I’ve been back since, but I don’t think I’ve stayed overnight here since that night in the Imperial, which must have been around 1950 or ’51. Don’t fancy my chances much of being back in another sixty years!”
“If you are,” Frank smiled, “I hope I’m here with you!”
“Although,” I reflected, “I’m not sure it would be too much fun being 130! Give me another ten healthy years, I’d settle for that.”
There was a quiet moment whilst we reflected a little on our immortality and quietly finished our drinks. Frank went to get another round in and as he placed the beers back down on the table, the conversation resumed but not in the same amiable tones.
“Arthur, how do you get on with Simon?”
This felt like a leading question. I suspected Simon had been telling his father that I wasn’t his number one fan.
“We’re very different people, Fran. He came to my aid when I had a bit of trouble with my heart, which I’ll always be grateful for and he seems to keep Nicky happy, which has always been my primary concern.”
Frank, who had previously struck me as an easy going man, seemed to harden his attitude.
“I asked whether you got on with him, Arthur. Do you not like my son?”
“Frank, why are you asking me this? Has Simon complained to you that I’m not nice to him?”
“Arthur, Simon has never said a word. Will and Nicky, on the other hand, say you aren’t particularly pleasant towards him. I was just wondering why?”
I was caught off guard a little. I liked Frank. What was I supposed to say? That I found his only surviving son irritating and for no good reason, I always felt the urge to punch his gormless face.
“I wouldn’t say I’d been unpleasant, Frank. Perhaps, on reflection, I have unknowingly been a bit sharp with the lad. I think it’s an overprotective father thing. In my mind, no-one is good enough for Nicky.”
“Perhaps you need to grow up then, Arthur, because I’m telling you now, Simon is good enough for Nicky.”
“Well, I...,” I tried to interrupt him to get my excuses in early, but Frank was having none of it.
“Just shut up and listen, will you Arthur,” he said sternly, his face reddening, “I’ve known Nicky since she was a little girl. She was a lovely kid then and is a lovely woman now. You’ve done a fine job in bringing her up since you lost your wife. Now, I’ve never had a daughter, but certainly over the last fifteen years or so, Nicky has felt like a daughter to me.
I have had sons though. I had two. Sadly, Colin is no longer with us, but I couldn’t be more proud of the son I’ve still got. At work, he is a grafter, but also his spirit at work is excellent too. No matter what the weather, every day is a good day for Simon. He’s never in a bad mood, always thinks the best of everyone and since he first got it together with your daughter, he has always treated Nicky and Will like a Queen and a prince. Have you not noticed how he always calls Will his son, not his stepson? Once Chloe arrived, I must admit I was a bit concerned it might change the dynamics between Simon and Will, with him having a biological daughter, but it never did. If he had become Prime Minister or England cricket captain, I don’t think I would be any more proud of him than I am already. He is a fine human being, one of the finest, Arthur and if you don’t treat him like one, that says a lot more about you than it does about him. Just give the lad a break.”
“I will,” I replied, but that wasn’t good enough for Frank.
“Don’t just say it, Arthur, mean it.”
“I promise you, Frank, I will.”
“Good, I’m glad about that, Arthur. You seem like a kind man. What you have done for your daughter is little short of a miracle and you seem great with the grandkids too. Just remember, Simon is on thei
r team.”
To be honest, I promised to give Simon a break just so Frank would stop badgering me, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to realise that I would only ostracise myself from my family if my attitude towards Simon continued. No-one who knew Simon well seemed to have a bad word to say about him, except me. If I wanted to stay on their side too, perhaps Frank was right, perhaps it was time that I gave the lad a break.
NICKY – May 2012
I worried about Simon. The whole Stag Do thing had grown into a much bigger monster than he had ever wanted it to be. It had become the Stag Do Joey Neill had always wanted rather than the one Simon wanted. When he left with Will, at lunch time on the Saturday, I was really hoping they would enjoy themselves, but instinct told me that Simon probably wouldn’t.
To take my mind off events in Blackpool, I took Chloe swimming at All Seasons in Chorley on the Saturday afternoon. As soon as we walked back in the house though, the home phone was ringing.
“Hello.”
“Hi Nicky, it’s me,” Simon’s voice sounded positive and he wasn’t slurring which I took as a positive sign.
“Simon, how’s it going? You don’t sound drunk yet.”
“I’m not, Nicky. We’ve spent the afternoon at the Pleasure Beach.”
“You bunch of kids! What did you go on?”
“The Big One, Infusion, Revolution, Avalanche...all the thrill rides.”
“Brilliant, I’d have loved them. So are you enjoying yourself?”
“Sort of.”
This wasn’t what I wanted to hear, I wanted Simon to be saying it was fantastic.
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“Long story. Put it this way, Nicky, I am speaking to you with my mobile in my left hand, as my right hand is handcuffed to a bloke called Tim, who is a dwarf covered head to toe in blue body paint, dyed blue hair and massive triangular ears. He seems very nice but given I can’t go to the bathroom without him, or him without me, can’t sleep without him and basically can’t move without dragging him with me, I’m not quite sure how the next twenty four hours are going to pan out.”