WE DON'T DO THINGS LIKE THAT

This poem, written in 1988, seems appropriate for the first official posting on 'The Queen Street Collection'(formerly 'The Odd Exception'). It's all about that feeling you get when living in a small town that no real harm can come to you and that, as Tanita Tikaram memorably put it: 'All the bad things happen far away'. Here are the original four verses  There are a few more, which can be found here. I've performed this piece more times than I care to remember and it always goes down well wherever I happen to be at the time. It's written, and designed to be performed, in the old music hall style. Imagine Norman Evans talking 'over the garden wall' or, a little more recently, Les Dawson's immortal 'Cissie and Ada' sketches. If you feel like pinching this, or any other of the pieces found here and performing it/them in public, all I ask is that you mention my name. More notes on this and the other poems to be featured here will be added as time allows. DGR.

WE DON'T DO THINGS LIKE THAT

You know that funny woman down the street? She's got those feet

And plays the piano in the pub on Friday nights?

Well, apparently, her mother has a most peculiar brother

Who is rather fond of wearing women's tights.

He was seen last night in Crewe at a most exclusive do,

In a floral cretonne frock and matching hat.

Well, I can't speak for you, but I think that's fine for Crewe 

- In Middlewich We Don't Do Things Like That.

And that rather dozy looking little man, who knows your Stan

Has lived in Winsford for a month and won't go home.

His wife is going spare, but he doesn't seem to care;

Well, they get that way when once they start to roam.

And he's shacked up, as they say, with a girl down Wharton way,

And she's only half his age and rents this flat...

Winsford is as Winsford does -  but it wouldn't do for us

And In Middlewich We Don't Do Things Like That.

And you must remember Edna's Uncle Fred who knocked his head

One Christmas Eve and fell downstairs when he was slewed?

And was never quite the same? Someone told me that his name

Was in The S*n last week for doing something rude,

It occurred in Stoke-On-Trent, and the judge said he was bent

And he should try to stop behaving like a prat.

Well I think the poor old bloke should have kept away from Stoke

And stayed in Middlewich. We Don't Do Things Like That.

And I've been told that poor old woman Mrs Miles - the one with piles

Who has a daughter who is Not Right In The Head,

Was going frantic yesterday, because the daughter's run away

And now she's living rough in Sandbach, in a shed.

And I think it's very sad. They say she's gone completely mad

And seems to think that she has turned into a cat;

But then that's Sandbach for you dear, and things are rather different here

In dear old Middlewich, We Don't Do Things Like That.

© Dave Roberts/Salt Town Productions 2011

See also: WE DON'T DO THINGS LIKE THAT II THE ADDITIONAL VERSES

UPDATE:

In February 2018 WDDTLT, like Winston's New Shoes before it, got the Monologue John treatment at what looks like a fairly lively session at Semitone Studios in Stockport,  filmed, to use a time-honoured phrase, before a live studio audience...

Many thanks to John and everyone else involved in immortalising this classic.

This was the first ever posting on THE ODD EXCEPTION on 1st September 2011

First published 1st September 2011 on The Odd Exception.
Published 12th April 2017 on The Queen Street Collection
Amended and re-published 19th February 2018

WINSTON'S NEW SHOES featuring MONOLOGUE JOHN

by Dave Roberts

Winston's New Shoes is, quite simply, another old joke made into a piece of verse. Although it wasn't written in anything like a 'Northern' dialect it has its roots firmly in the Northern tradition as exemplified by Stanley Holloway and Marriott Edgar.
Ted's shoe shop could be anywhere in the country, I suppose (though Ted betrays his Northern origins with 'By the 'eck!') but there's little real doubt that it's somewhere north of  Watford.
This 'Northern-ness' has been magnificently exploited by none other than Monologue John, Master of the Monologue, who I first met back in the 1990s at the old Crewe & Nantwich Folk Festival. We worked together on  numerous occasions during the days of the Salt Town Poets and I was pleased to present the John Brunker Trophy (the last one ever, actually) to John and his then performing partner Dorothy Fryman in the days when they called themselves 'Song & Story'.
This trophy, named for one of my own early school teachers, was awarded for excellence and originality in performance, something 'S&S' had in spades, and John still has.

'Song & Story' ('Monologue' John Bartley and Dorothy Fryman) with the last-ever John Brunker Trophy

John has performed thousands of monologues over the years, and I couldn't help but be flattered when he latched onto Winston's New Shoes.
I suppose he must have seen the potential of the poem as a 'Lion & Albert' style monologue (for want of a better phrase) and pulled out all the stops.

MONOLOGUE JOHN ON FACEBOOK

Here he is on Youtube telling the tale of Ted, and Nellie, and Winston's odd shoe requirements in fine style. You'll note, if you follow the original text, that John has embellished the poem with even more Northern touches

Watch the gleam in his eye as he delivers the 'sting in the tail' ending.
That, my friends, is how it should be done!

Here's the original poem:

WINSTON'S NEW SHOES

IN the shoe shop one cold morning, Ted was working very hard
Writing down the retail price of pairs of shoes on bits of card,
When suddenly the door flew open, and in came charging Nellie Hughes.
'Hello Nellie!' Ted said, brightly, 'have you come to buy some shoes?'

'Yes I have, they're for our Winston - him as lives with Auntie Rose'.
She looked around the shop, then pointed - 'they're nice, give me three of those!'
'By the 'eck!' said Ted, 'your Winston must be doing well at school!
'Three pairs of shoes! How very generous!' Nellie scowled. 'Don't be a fool!'

'Do you think I'm made of money? I can't afford three pairs of shoes!
'Three single shoes is what I'm after!' Ted said, 'they only come in twos.
'Besides, why would the lad need three shoes? That's one too many, can't you see?'
Nellie tutted with annoyance. 'I don't know, Ted, you tell me...

'It's been three years since I've seen Winston, back when he was only ten,
'Rose has written me a letter, saying how he's changed since then.
He's got a new school uniform, he's clean and neat, his hair's been cut...
'But here's the bit that's got me flummoxed - she says he's grown another foot!'

© Dave Roberts/Salt Town Productions 2017