A hairy hubbard
PERHAPS our MP should change his surname and become Luke Skywalker!
Political sketch writer on The Times, Quentin Letts, did not compare Dr Evans to the Star Wars Jedi but likened him to another space traveller last week.
Reporting on a House of Commons debate, Letts reported how the GP had urged Home Secretary Priti Patel to comment on a letter from Labour members who accused the minister of trying to use her Asian background to neutralise their allegations of government racism.
He wrote: “Dr Evans (C Bosworth) is that looker with the cheekbones so like Buzz Lightyear that you keep expecting him to cry ‘To infinity and beyond!.’”
The minister had earlier said she would not dignify the letter with a response but our man persisted, Letts adding: “Young Evans narrowed his eyes, either because he fancies himself something rotten or because he knew an eruption was coming.” Which it duly did.
Things were never like this in “Toy Story”. What would Woody make of it?
Baroness’ background? Before I leave politics alone for this column, where it does not usually appear, may I pose a question?
I just wonder whether NHS Test and Trace head Baroness Dido Harding, so petite she needs an extra step to stand on when she appears in the Downing Street press conferences had a father with a rugby playing background to call on if or when it came to naming her?
Long line
Seeing the queues when some non-essential shops opened last week reminded me of the long lines I’ve been in and one I did not join and have regretted ever since and it was some time ago.
As a Leicester City fan I and my father stood for some time on several occasions as a human snake made its way round the Filbert Street ground and surrounding roads to get tickets to continue the trail over earlier rounds to Wembley 1963 FA Cup final.
So I was well used to queuing when it was announced a year or two later that The Beatles were coming to the De Montfort Hall in Leicester and tickets were being sold at Arthur Kimbrell’s office on Rugby Road, Hinckley.
Getting up early and walking from the then family home on Leicester Road near where the golf club now is, I made my way into town, got to the office and saw the queue, followed it round the corner and into Clarendon Road for quite some distance when I made the decision I’ve rued for decades.
“They’ll come again” I said to myself, “I’ll come earlier next time”, turned on my heel and went back home.
Of course there was no return gig and I missed seeing live the group whose fan club I was among the first 30,000 to join.
Were you in that queue or have you ever passed over an opportunity that you could not have again? Please let me know. for the
Hairy hubbard! Two weeks to go and then I can at last make an appointment to get my hair cut
Like a lot of men who have not trusted wives to give them a trim, having seen some of the results of those who allowed it, my locks are now curling up into rats’ tails at the back and I am what my late father would have compared to a “hairy hubbard” when I was younger.
I never asked him about the term so do not know whether he invented it or with his Scottish borders it was a local name for some creature up there.
Has your family ever used terms that are specific to them?