Judy Garland Would Have Wept
I am a major Halloween fanatic. Frankly, I don’t know why people bang on about Halloween being part of the Americanisation of our society. From where I’m standing Halloween has always been a big deal in Scotland- the only difference is that these days you can easily fashion lanterns out of pumpkins instead of having to start carving out a neep sometime in late summer to have a chance of having it done by the 31st of October (that’s a turnip or swede, non Scottish folk).
Although the smell of candle-wax on burning neep will ever be a trigger for happy childhood memories, I’m now loving the smell of burnt pumpkin even more, coupled with the fact that my fingers don’t have to be worn down to stumps in order to make a hole big enough for a candle to go inside. However, I’m still not convinced that pumpkin is any better an ingredient for a pie than turnip. Pumpkin pie is veg with sugar on, no matter which way you look at it.
Yet, for all the hoo-haa about Halloween, I think it has deteriorated since the seventies and eighties. In fact, I’d go as far to say that if you want to know what is wrong with the youth-of-today then you need look no further than Halloween for evidence. And my beef gains gravy here; in the shape of the Halloween Turn.
Scene 1: Friday 31st October 2008. There is a knock on door of the House of the Flying Martinis
Misssy: Hello! A happy Halloween!
Three lads dressed as skeletons (chorus): Hmmmmnnn….weeenn.
Misssy: Well, what have you got for me, then?
Three lads dressed as skeletons (chorus): Hmmmmnnn…?
Misssy: Song? Joke? One act play? Anything for your Halloween treat?
Skeleton One: Haven’t really got anything…
Misssy: Well you better think of something or else you’ll not do too well out there. Am I the first house you’ve been to?
Three lads dressed as skeletons (chorus):No, we’ve been out for an hour (open bags to reveal booty acquired by merely turning up in shitty supermarket costumes and grunting)
Misssy (simultaneously tightening her grip on her sweet bowl and fundamental argument): I’ll take a joke, if that’s on offer…
The three lads dressed as skeletons look at one another.
Skeleton Two: I’ve got one, but it’s rubbish.
Misssy: I’ll be the judge of that, young fella me lad (I am turning into a retired army colonel before their very eyes, but I’m keeping on going, despite the fact that the phrases “National Service”, “Corporal punishment” and “Never did me any harm” are uncontrollably popping into my head.)
Skeleton Two: Why did the skeleton feel lonely?
Misssy: Ho! Ho! I don’t know, you young scamp, why did the skeleton feel lonely?
Skeleton Two: Because he had no body.
Misssy: Hahahahahaha! Hahahahahaha! Hahahaha! That’s the ticket, you bunch of rascals! No body! Hahahahahaha! Bloody marvellous! Help yourselves, lads!
Sweets delivered, the kids leave.
* * *
Scene 2: Flashback to 31st October 1979.
There is a knock on the door of Mr and Mrs Generic-McNeighbour, Some where in Scotland.
Gladys Generic McNeighbour: Oh hello Misssy and assorted chums! In you come! In you come! Why have you for us this year?
Misssy: Well this year ,Mrs Generic-McNeighbour, we’re performing a medley of the show tunes from Vincente Minelli’s “Meet Me in St Louis”. Mr McNeighbour, if you wouldn’t mind clearing us a large space in the living room, then we’ll begin. Everybody, first positions, please! (Claps hands sharply)
Seven kids dressed as Smurfs, JR Ewing, Metal Mickey and various Star Wars characters scurry into position.
Eric Generic-McNeighbour (rubbing hands excitedly) : Excellent, we haven’t stopped talking about your “42nd Street” since last Halloween, have we, Gladys? Will you require us to move the sofa this year, or will the coffee table be enough….?
* * *
And that’s what I’m talking about.
Kids of today…pfff, why was the skeleton lonely.….. What a load of amateurish crap…..
Don’t ever miss a Misssive, subscribe!
What the Vicar Saw
I’m glad I’m not in a sitcom.
I’m glad I’m not in a Brian Rix theatrical farce.
I’m even gladder that I’m not Hattie Jacques in a Carry On film, or one of the busty ladies from Benny Hill.
Why am I glad?
Because when my son and his friends were playing dress up today with all our ex-Halloween costumes and decided it would be a laugh to come down dressed in Meeester’s hand crafted* (from a pair of Primark pyjamas and some fake fur) “Man from the Joy of Sex Book” body-suit, complete with sewn on chest wig, penis and pubic hair….well if I had been in any of those pieces of 70s entertainment, the vicar surely would have called just at that moment.
Oooer, missus!
* yes, I have made an anatomically correct penis from felt and stuffing. I’m not proud of it.
Actually, I am proud, it was bloody brilliant.
Stop Press: Meeester says a photo of him in the suit is, indeed, required..so here it is:
Marie Antoinette and Misssy M
I don’t have a lot in common with Marie Antoinette.*
She wanted to let them to eat cake**; I would rather have kept the cakes for myself. I have been known to hose an entire box of chocolate éclairs in one sitting. Let them eat chips; I’m not so fussed about them. You can quote me on that.
She married a bloke who could carry off a bit of makeup. Meeester looks terrible in drag. He once went as Pat Butcher (of Eastenders) for Halloween and the actress who plays her, Pam St Clement, sued us.
Me and dead Louis’s head. Still looking ever so dashingin his slap beyond the guillotine.
She used to like to dress up as a peasant. If she were to do this today, she would inevitably have to sport a Kappa tracksuit to get this down to a tee. Myself, I loathe the look of the chav and wouldn’t be seen dead in anything with a stripe down the side of the leg.
She caused a stir by accepting a diamond necklace from a courtier and tried to give it back to avoid scandal. I would have kept it. I have a jewellery obsession that is outwith my means. I’ll take any freebies I can get. Scandal or no.
She was Royal Austrian married into Royal French. I am working class immigrant Irish and German stock moved to Glasgow, and then married into the East Kilbride Martini dynasty. It’s hardly the same thing. Meeester’s dad did his family tree some years back. Apparently the Martinis were a band of horse thieves in the 19th Century. We’re the sort of people who would have been in stocks back in Antoinette’s day.
She was last girl born in her family, I was first. We first borns have it tough. I’ll bet Antoinette used to hang around her older sister’s room when her mates were round playing records and bug them ’til they were forced to give her a beating.
The young Mozart apparently sat on her knee and gave her a cheeky kiss after performing one of his little tunes for the Austrian Court. My groupie days are well documented on this blog, but I’ve never bagged a child star. That would be wrong.
Despite all these differences, I discovered whilst researching her for my Halloween costume this year, that Marie Antoinette was exactly same age (to the month) as I am now when she had her pretty head*** cut off in front of a baying crowd.
Cut here
Spooky.
* I would just like to point out that I dressed up as Marie Antoinette for a Halloween party. Not just for this blog. That said, I will dress up as other historical characters given enough cash and notice.
**Antoinette never said this. It was a Spanish noblewoman member of the French court that made the remark. She should have had Max Clifford sort this out. A terrible misquotation and consequent damage to character. Oh well, too late now.
*** Needless to say the morning after our respective events both Marie Antoinette and I woke up and said the same thing, “Ooooh, my poor head!”
