When our Michael was still at school, his mother thought it was cute that time he came home and announced that the inventor of the television was Yogi Bear. I ruddy didn’t. I took it as a sign that he had not been listening properly in his lessons. Probably daydreaming as usual, about becoming a pop star in one of his favourite groups like the Slades or the Pink Floyds, or some other ruddy silly bunch of grown men who should know better. Anyway, everybody knows that the inventor of the television was John Bogie Laird, who invented it in Scotland, on Bairns night in 1925. It was only black and white, and it could only broadcast a few feet, but if he hadn’t been full up with porridge and haggis and malt whisky, he would probably have invented it in colour and made a bit of money for himself.
Not that I’m racialist you understand. But its alright to joke about what Scotsmen eat and drink. I wouldn’t joke about Indian men liking curry, because that’s definitely racialist, and you can get into trouble if a policeman hears you. Or an Indian for that matter. Anyway, when Laird Bogie invented the television, do you know what the first thing he broadcast on it was? It was a ventriloquist’s dummy’s head called Stooky Bill. His Lairdship was just off screen saying “Gottle O’Gear” out of the corner of his mouth. Ruddy scary it was. He had to use a ventriloquist dummy head because he was terrified that the radiation waves from the camera would cook a human head from the inside out, like a microwave oven (which wasn’t invented until 1947 by the way).
Bogie eventually tested it out on his manservant Oliver Hutchinson. Hutchinson was an Irishman. I am not sure whether it is racialist or not to say that he only agreed to the experiment because he had just downed seven pints of Guinness and eaten a plateful of potatoes, so I’ll gloss over that bit. But when he got through seemingly unscathed, the television was officially declared safe, and ever since that day people have been prepared to give their right arms for the chance of being on telly. What they don’t realise is that in later life, Hutchinson developed severe cancer of the face and died in agony. Of course the television never really caught on until the early fifties, and now everyone is ruddy well obsessed with it. People ought to get out more in my book. Enjoy the real people who they get on with, instead of getting worried about people who have been made up…. by ITVexecutives.
Doris’s Pop Pick of 1925: “Yes Sir! That’s my Baby” by Ace Brigode and his 10 Virginians. No wonder everyone in his band was a Virginian, if Ace was claiming all the babies. They probably couldn’t get a look in. Besides, I’ve heard that if anyone in his band lost their Virginaininity, he sacked then and went to Virginia to find another one to replace them.