Working on 'The Golden Oldie Picture Show'

Somewhere around about 1986-7 I signed up with a walk-on agency based near Birmingham, I think it may have been Dudley or one of the out-lying towns to Birmingham, called Lee-Evans (not related to the comedian Lee Evans. The name was from the surnames of the two ladies who owned and ran it.) I did quite a few bits and pieces of 'walk-on' work for various television dramas. One of the best things I did was for a show called 'The Golden Oldie Picture Show' which was shown on BBC1 and made up of short videos set to pop music but before pop videos became popular when they were originally released. I was booked for two days and the first day was on General Election Day 1987 so that gives you a good idea when it was. I recall driving to Pebble Mill studios in Edgbaston, Birmingham and having to park outside the studios in the road and because of the election having to get through some tight security before going into the reception area to report that I had arrived. The filming I was working on was to be on location somewhere in central Birmingham, in an empty office block alongside the canal which runs through the centre of Birmingham.

On arriving at the location I learned that I was working with one other 'walk-on' artiste, a young lady and that we were involved in a short video which was going to be made for 'The Golden Oldie Picture Show' and using the Gerry and the Pacemakers number 'I like It.' The director of this piece was called Laura Simms. We were kitted out in our costumes and I had to wear a grey suit several sizes to big and because of this it had to have safety pins to keep it together at the back. I was to be the boss and the sound lady was supposed to be my secretary and I'm something of a male chauvinist pig which upsets her. It starts out with me alone in my office and I'm plying with a model railway layout. At one point the secretary puts my tie into her typewriter (I know, thinking about it, how many offices today have typewriters in use? I think they have all been replaced by computers using word processing.) She is supposed to wind it down so that my head is almost touching the keyboard. Actually quite uncomfortable. In another sequence I'm staring at her (more like boggling.) to such an extent that I spill the cup of coffee I'm drinking down my shirt. This has to be re-short several times so I have to change my shirt and tie for each 'take.' Later on, for some reason which I forget, the secretary throws me out of the window. I can't think how, but outside there is the canal and there's a sort of ledge outside the window, and I'm supposed to climb up and look through the window at which the secretary winds down the venetian blind and I have water thrown over my hair to make it seem I've fallen in the canal and got wet. This bit it done several times. Another bit has the secretary put a rubber stamp on my forehead which reads 'wolf' or something and, again, this has to be shot several times. The video is shot over two days so we come back the following day to finish filming.

It was great to be treated as 'The Star' of this little mini-movie! It was raining during the filming, and when we went for a lunch break during the day we went to a local pub and had umbrellas held over us by assistants on the way! Although the video only lasted about two minutes I was the central character, very prominent throughout, although the character I was playing wasn't particularly nice. I just wish I had a tape or DVD of it. It was on You Tube, but unfortunately it was removed because it contravened copyright.

Grumpy Kleeneze Man

I had to write this on a post. I decided on Monday morning to have a bath. As one does. The house is empty. It's quiet. Nice to have a nice hot bath. We got some nice bath foam in Sainsbury's the other day. It take quite a while for the bath to fill up as the gas boiler only runs when you turn the hot tap on. A relatively ancient system. You have to run the hot tap for a minute or two before it runs hot and then hot enough for a relatively warm bath and some time before the water-level is high enough before I actually get in. 

A couple of days ago we had the latest Kleeneze catalogue shoved through the door. I didn't bother to look at it, because, to be honest, I can't see the point of ordering anything as most of what they sell you can buy elsewhere, such as Asda, Sainsbury or Tesco (or any number of similar outlets.) and they also have a website so if I was desperate for a gadget to catch spiders in, or a thing for de-fluffing the stair carpet or getting the dust out from behind  a radiator with a special brush, I might be inclined to by it on-line or go to a shop to buy such an item. Not that over-awed by their stuff at the best of times so why bother. I know if you get these confounded catalogues you have no choice but to put them outside where the agent can retrieve them when they call back. Not as if the things are actually wanted. Just another load of stuff that gets shoved through the letter box along with leaflets for pizza deliveries, estate agencies telling you they can sell your house or double-glazing companies. So, I had it ready where I could find it for when the agent came back and was likely to knock on the door and demand the thing, so it's a good idea to have it where you can find it and not be looking around to retrieve the confounded thing. 

Well, to get to the point of the story and the connection with my bath . . .  . cut to the chase and so on . . . I was waiting incidentally for a parcel to arrive from Amazon. Carol had ordered a book on teaching psychology or something and so it was actually quite an important parcel so I was keeping one ear open, as they say, for the merry knock on the door by an employee of Royal Mail. So, as I settled down to have a rather pleasant soak in the bath, there was a somewhat angry-sounding knock on the door. At first I just ignored it, but when it was heard again I had no option but to respond. It would mean getting out of the bath and drying myself and then finding my clothes and then going downstairs to answer the door. So, instead, I made the decision to get out of the bath and open the window and calling down to the, as yet, unseen person at the door.  Well, I had no clothes on (!) but my modesty was well hidden as I lent out of the open window. As I peered out I couldn't see directly below the window as there is a porch which has a roof which hid the person below. I shouted down, believing the person pounding on the door to be a postman, as I expected the Amazon parcel to be in the process of being delivered and that the postman wanted to hand it over as it was unlikely to fit through the letter-box. So I said 'can you put it in the bin-cupboard?' which is immediately next to the front door and the usual place for items which won't fit through the letter-box if we are out when they arrive. But it wasn't the postman. Instead, a face turned up to me, of a somewhat grumpy gentleman who was obviously a Kleeneze agent. He shouted 'leave the catalogue out for me by Thursday!' and walked off in something of a huff. Not exactly the sort of customer-service I would expect from someone I was likely to buy something off. More likely put me off and not bother. So I completed my bath, the still and peace of the morning somewhat ruined by a grumpy old git.

This whole episode puts me in mind of the B.B.C. Television sitcom "One Foot In The Grave" as the grumpy old Kleeneze man makes me think of the character in it played by Richard Wilson, Victor Meldew, who was just as grumpy and bad-tempered as the man I had the misfortune to come into contact on the occasion of that morning a few days ago.

I have now put the wretched Kleeneze catalogue out on the doorstep. It is in a plastic bag which is supposed to keep it dry if left out in the rain. It is there for grumpy old man to collect when he returns on Thursday. Sorry to say, if he treats all his customers in the same way as me he won't get many sales. Actually, next time one of their catalogues is thrust through the letter box I think I'm more inclined to throw it out with the recycling as it has put me off Kleeneze altogether. I shall now make a point of NOT buying anything from the aforementioned Kleeneze catalogue if and indeed, when, it is shoved through our letterbox. The stuff inside it is generally not up to much anyway, and certainly if he man who runs the thing in this area is so rude and bloody-minded he can keep his rubbishy catalogue and all it contains if all he's going to be is miserable and grumpy.

Telephone Scam

I've probably mentioned the 'silent' telephone calls I receive. How many other people have got them? You are expecting an important call, so every time the telephone rings you rush to pick the thing up. I'm talking about landline phones more than mobiles, although I sometimes get these on my mobile, although, to be honest, it doesn't get used very much. It spends most of it's life on the bedside table, as it's set to alarm and to go off to make sure we don't oversleep in the morning. Anyway, to silent calls. You go to pick the thing up, just to get . . . nothing. No voice asks anything, doesn't attempt to sell you anything. Just  . . . silence. I have had one, though, where you get given a number or a rather snooty female voice (obviously recorded) which says something totally inane such as 'sorry, no answer' or something else equally pointless. What is going on here? Why waste people's time and effort on ringing like this? At last have a human at the other end of the line. If it's a cold-calling telemarketing callcentre or whatever you want to call it, all very well (we all get these from time to time and I'd very good at avading their tactics. I'm good at getting them 'off script.')

With the scam (well, it must be.) you get a call and this gentleman with an oriental accent (sorry, not trying to be racist here) asks how is your computer? They generally get my surname pronounced wrong 'Mr Murdotch' which alerts me to something fishy. They may say something like 'you're having some problems with your computer' or 'this is the Windows customer service department' or something else. I say 'there's absolutely nothing wrong with my computer' and sometimes 'how on earth do you know?' also 'but I don't have a Windows computer. Which alerts me to something fishy about all this.

I did watch the B.B.C  television show 'Watchdog' where they were alerting people to this scam. These calls are to get your email address and then send a virus that infects  by hacking into your computer and this means they can get into your files and even find your bank details, so if you read this and you get these types of calls, don't give out any details. You have been warned.

Frankly, I can't believe people fall for these sorts of scam. Who in their right mind would give personal details over the telephone? I've had endless emails which read something like 'you've been left £10 million in a bank account in Brazil or Nigeria. It was left by your great uncle Cuthbert who worked for Shell Oil and died in a terrible plane crash in the Amazon jungle and all you have to do is send us your bank details by return and we'll transfer the cash over into your account.' And why would my uncle Cuthbert leave me all the cash as I've got other brothers who'd also like to have some of this cash? Oh, and at the end of the email it's bound to say 'and don't tell anyone about this as it's a secret and nobody must know.' Be warned. It's just a way of getting into your account and syphoning off your hard-earned money and will probably be used by terrorist organisations or drug cartels or smugglers of arms for some illicit organisation.