Of rum and an old salty dog.
When I was a young Porky I was a Ginger. There, I’ve said it. But when I was about ten my mum gave me some money and sent me to a different hairdresser to have my haircut (the usual bloke was on holiday). Do you remember those bowl cuts from the old Hovis adverts? Yup, I ended up with one of those. Looked like a complete tard. So she shaved the lot off. And it grew back very dark brown (must have been the trauma).

Wibbly lines to a 24 year old porky who had just met his future wife and had been invited to her 21st birthday party, meeting the family for the first time. I knew I had to make myself presentable and decided getting the hair done was necessary. Unfortunately I didn’t have sufficient funds for pressy, booze and a hair do so I asked my sister (a hairdressers apprentice) to have a go. I got one of the best haircuts I’ve ever had and that’s when I should have stopped. But I didn’t. My sense of tonsorial adventure knew no bounds so I asked her to dye it a rather fetching magenta\burgundy colour. With my hair being so dark it had to be bleached first before applying the requisite colour. Unbeknown to me sis hadn’t done this very often and left the bleach a little too long. On applying the dye it turned ginger. Not a dark titian red or light hint of strawberry blonde. Oh no. This was DURACELL RED. A copper colour top.

I’d already sorted the outfit (black leather jeans, black leather waistcoat, wing collar shirt and black bow-tie). Absolutely stunning if I say so myself. On turning up at the do her mam and dad handled it very well. A polite how do you do and nice to meet you. Not granddad. In his inimitable sailor’s growl he said

“What the FUCK is that?”
“Your granddaughter’s boyfriend.” I said “Pleased to meet you, you old bastard.”
“Want some rum?” He said.
“Why Aye!” I replied.

And from that day on we drank lots of rum together and he told me many fine stories.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Thu 25 Feb 2010, 15:55, Reply)