Hi, I’m Apple…
…and I’m Ginger.
And we’ve just been chatting to Walter Gate.
He’s just come back from Florida, where he’s been on a cruise to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the resignation of President Nixon.
He got home last night and he found a message for him, saying the revolution started last Thursday, just before teatime GMT.
He was very excited because he’s been looking forward to the revolution all his adult life.
Over the years he’s had several disappointments and false starts. Woodstock – 1969, when he had a little too much pounds, shillings and pence, if you know what I mean.
The Sex Pistols – 1976, when he used to play ‘Anarchy in the U.K.’ all day and night, looking for hidden meanings. He even played it backwards, looking for something. He found something. He found he needed a new stylus.
The cancellation of ‘Doctor Who’ – 1989, well, it nearly was a revolution, wasn’t it?
The poll tax riots – 1990, he’d never had so much fun in Trafalgar Square, not even on New Year’s Eve.
The collapse of the ERM of the EMU – 1992, when the Conservative government went pear-shaped following the exchange rate mechanism of the European Monetary Union going ka-bluey.
The General Election – 1997, when Labour won and Britain lost. Need I say more?
The Millenium Bug – 1999, when he waited while all the time zones went past midnight into 2000. Nothing happened. He went to bed disappointed.
Russel T. Davies leaving ‘Doctor Who’ – 2009, well, that was a revolution, wasn’t it?
But all the time Walter Gate has never seen the actual, proper, bona fide revolution. He even thought when Thatcher popped her clogs last year, all the ‘Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead’ in the charts was a signal. Of course, all it was a signal of was that Radio 1 weren’t going to be democratic and play it on their chart show.
And so, Walter Gate gets home last night and finds he’s missed it. After all these years. I mean, someone could’ve given him a ring and given him a bit of notice, couldn’t they?
What was he expecting anyway?
He doesn’t know. He’s never lived through a revolution before, so he doesn’t know what to expect.
Did he think the world would be different?
He doesn’t know, but he knows revolutions come round eventually.
Did he think the world would sound different?
He’s not sure, but he’s pretty certain that, when the revolution comes, Bruce Forsyth will no longer be on the BBC, Cliff Richard will no longer be having number ones, apart from the lavatorial variety, Terry Wogan will no longer be on radio and Carol Vorderman, Anne Robinson and Theresa May will all be in the cabinet. Frightening!
When you say ‘in the cabinet’ do you mean the government, or a large, wooden piece of furniture that sits in the corner and never does anything?
Is there a difference?
Not at the moment, it’s just that Theresa May is already in the cabinet.
Which just goes to prove the prophecies are true and the revolution must be close.
Who told him about the revolution in the first place?
It was this hippy who had just come back from meditating in Rutland and he had a vision that said, when Cliff Richard and Cilla Black had been in show business for fifty years, when Bruce Forsyth had retired, when Carol Vorderman had learnt to fly, when the leader of the Labour party looked like a plasticine puppet and when there had been twelve ‘Doctor Whos,’ look up, for the coming of the revolution is nigh.
And he said “what, right nigh?’
He did. And that was all in the ’60s. It’s all come true so far. He rang him up last night to ask him where the revolution was.
What did he say?
Not a lot. There was a message on his answerphone which said “I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now because I’ve shot myself because the revolution has come.”
Big help!
He hadn’t really shot himself, of course. He left that message because he had a nervous breakdown and had the screaming abdabs.
What brought on the screaming abdabs”
Apparently he inadvertently watched a whole edition of ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ without a tranquiliser.
Oh, that would do it alright. So, where is the revolution?
It hasn’t come yet. It was all a misunderstanding.
No wonder Walter Gate is so downhearted.
Anyway, it’s time for us to go now and cheer him up by taking him round to Algernon, so they can compare conspiracy theories, while they listen to the latest album from the Four Skins, call ‘Peel Back Your Lugholes & Cop a Load of This.
O.K. goodnight folks. See you next Tuesday.
themaster1968 