My Six Best Six Of The Best: Part Four: 46 BCR (Before Chris Rock)

60 BCR. Born unto the earth was Hackney. And he was good. One day Hackney descended from the Hill of Beacon and walked out into the world. Through a desert, and misfortune, and hunger, and temptation, and a shit car, he followed the light, until he came upon the kingdom of Grim. From that day forth he shalt be known as, Grimsby Hackney.

46 BCR. The days when you could switch on the television and see a fat man tell a joke about how ugly his mother-in-law was and we all laughed. An Englishman could tell a joke about how Irish people are stupid and everybody laughed. A cunt could tell a joke about how you could lick the lips of a black baby and stick it to the supermarket window while you went shopping, and everybody laughed, even the black comedian who told it. Remember those days do you? Were they the good old days for you?

Yeah, they were the good old days alright. The days when uncles, teachers and television entertainers could abuse children with impunity, while the popular arts lampooned the weak, the uninitiated, women, the old, the young, the disabled and the foreign.

Anyway, enough of all that, this is supposed to be a funny memoir article and I know it’s a funny memoir because, joking aside, its about a joke.

1976 (46 BCR) 14 years old, I entered the metalwork room, at school, for the very first time. Mr Wycombe, our new metalwork teacher, greeted us and invited us to choose a workbench. Workbench chosen. Safety instructions given. Deep breath. “Come on you fucker”, I thought, “let me at the machinery which makes sparks fly all over the place”.

Mr Wycombe, a stout moustachioed, proper 70’s bloke. Rolled up shirt sleeves, stripy woollen tank top and a tan coloured heavy cotton apron, which had, obviously, seen some serious metalwork action. Standing next to a fucking massive Adcock and Shipley® lathe Mr Wycombe told us all to “listen up”.

In one hand he held three pieces of sheet metal, approximately 12cms (That’s it, I’m fucking going) square. It turned out that one was aluminium (just read it properly, it really isn’t that hard FFS), one brass and one mild steel. “You can choose which metal you want, from these three choices, but you will all get the same size piece, plus a short length of this”. He held up a metal rod about 10cms (La Bigga Macca) long and 5mm (Mayonnaise) gauge. “I’ll give you ten minutes to come up with an idea of what you can make, with these two items”

In 1973 (49 BCR), Chinese martial arts expert and film star, Bruce Lee died. Six days later (according to a Google search I just did) the film Enter The Dragon, starring Bruce, was released. Bearing in mind that I was too young, to go see the movie at the time, I had to wait until 46 BCR, a few months BM (Before Metalwork), to be both old enough (to just about get away with it) and ingenious enough to use a coat hanger to force the exit doors of the cinema open, to claim my free entry pass. To anyone who was born after, say, 30 BCR, the cinema was like a fucking massive, three dimensional YouTube video that you couldn’t skip or fast forward. Oh, and you couldn’t leave really cunty comments after you watched it either.

46 BCR, back in that metalwork room. (reader) “Hang on, what the fuck was all that Bruce Lee thing about?” (Me) “Oh yeah, now where was I?”.

So, in the months after seeing Enter The Dragon, I kind of got all obsessed with Bruce Lee, Kung Fu and all that. Just remember that bit, it’s relevant.

46 BCR, back in that metalwork room, Mr Wycombe went round the class, each boy in turn. “So what are you going to make then, Milne?”. Andy Milne, “I thought I would make a tiny shovel for my little brother’s Action Man® sir”. “Very Good, what about you Stenhouse?”. Mark Stenhouse, “I’m going to turn the square into a hexagon and number the six sections, put the rod through the middle so it can be spun, as an alternative to a dice sir”. “Very inventive Stenhouse, good idea. Hackney?”. Grimsby Hackney, “Sir………..”

On the 27th of March, 2022, 14 seconds BCR, comedian Chris Rock told a joke. I have absolutely no desire to get into a debate about the rights and wrongs of the joke so any comments, in that regard will be ignored. 15 seconds later, on that same March evening, we entered a new era. Year 1 AWSSTSOOCR (After Will Smith Smacked The Shit Out Of Chris Rock).

“Sir………….., I’m going to make a Kung Fu star.” I joked.

Three weeks BGH (Before Grimsby Hackney) there had been a news story going around the papers (Under 30? large, cumbersome, flimsy, fish and chip wrapping, Twitter® newsfeeds) about someone taking a Kung Fu throwing star to a football match and injuring a child with it. The resultant (fairly justifiable) furore resulted in government having them banned, outside of certain professional Kung Fu events, and the onset of fan searching at football matches.

Once the initial tittering had settled down 14 seconds BGH, Mr Wycombe, calmly, put the three pieces of sheet metal and the rod down on the, fucking massive, Adcock and Shipley lathe next to him, walked over to me and slapped my right cheek, with something of a rather surprising power. The room was silent, my face felt like it was on fire, tears streaming down my reddening cheek. Five seconds AMWSTSOOGH (After Mr Wycombe Smacked The Shit Out Of Grimsby Hackney), Mr Wycombe instructed me to go and stand outside the head of year’s, Mr Griffiths (AKA T-Bone, AKA Blinky) office.

10 minutes AMWSTSOOGH, T-Bone Griffiths opened his office door. “What are you doing here Hackney?.” He asked. “Mr Wycombe sent me sir.” “Why?” “I made a joke sir.” “What Joke?” I explained. Taken inside his office. Four on the arse, and the bastard used to take a run up. Just managed to hold back the tears. “What do you say Hackney?” “Thank you sir” Praise for being a man about it. “Get out”.

I got out, went to the toilet block and wept. Chris Rock handled it better than me, I reckon, but Mr Wycombe would have been shit in Men In Black.

Footnote: I ended up making an ashtray and learned three legs are better than four. I gave the ashtray to my mother and she gave up smoking twelve years AMWSTSOOGH.