This was the year where they reduced the voting age from 21 to 18 and started showing pictures of women without any clothes on in the Sun newspaper. I’m not saying that there is any connection between those things and the fact that the ruddy Tories won the general election and Ted sodding Heath became prime minister, but if you think about it… All those hot blooded young lads being indoctrinated with Tory shite whilst they ogled busty young lasses, it could have had something to do with it.
Of course, these days, you can’t think about Ted Heath without imagining Mike Yarwood doing him on the telly. Laughing like an idiot and shaking his shoulders up and down. In fact I would go as far as to say that Ted Heath’s greatest contribution to British society was to help propel Mike Yarwood to even greater stardom. He used to do Harold Wilson an’all, and Brian Clough, and Eddie Wareing. Me and my Raymond used to love him.
We didn’t ruddy love Ted Heath though. He did the usual Tory trick of stealing from the poor to give to the rich, by picking away at the benefits of the welfare state. And spending all the cash he made on his ruddy yacht more than likely. He even gave that sodding Thatcher her first cabinet job as minister for education and science, and let her pinch pennies by denying the kiddies free school milk. And just so you ruddy know, some kiddies can get free school milk even today, and who provides it? The EEC, that’s who… So tell that to Nigel Fromage and his band of UKIP idiots.
Any road, me and my Raymond were comfortably off, his job as a coach driver seemed safe, people still wanted to have their little holidays. Not that he took me along very often. I was happy with our weekends at Withernsea. We used to take my nephew, Michael and his sister Pam along, to give Cyril and April a break. Cyril had given us one of those portable televisions, and we could run it off a spare car battery. We used to watch Jon Pertwee in “Doctor Who” together on a Saturday night. I don’t know who was more scared of them daleks, me or the kiddies. Michael used to run around with a dustbin lid on his head, waving a sink plunger around, shouting “exterminate! exterminate!” at the top of his voice. My Raymond would say “If you don’t pack in making all that racket, I’ll stick that ruddy sink plunger right up your arse!” He never did, of course, but I often wonder whether that was the sort of talk that gave our Michael some of his funny ideas.
Auntie Doris’s Top Pop Pick of 1970: “Goodbye Sam, Hello Samantha” by Cliff Richards. I often wonder wether that was the sort of record that gave our Michael some of his funny ideas. I think it was around that time that I stared having to keep an eye on my tights drawer.