My daughter is dating David Platt and I’m not happy.

For those who know me you know I believe Coronation Street to be real. For those who don’t know me, you’ll most likely think I’m just being funny, or weird, or perverse. But the great thing about beliefs is that that’s all you need. Reason goes out of the window. I believe Coronation Street is real… so there!

And psycho David Platt is going out with my daughter!

My daughter is Kirsty Leigh Porter.

Kirsty Leigh Porter (pic courtesy of Holy Soap)

Kirsty was only my daughter for a day. Trev and myself were writing for a show called My Spy Family. Kirsty played Marcy Desmond, and in one of our episodes, The Quiz Night Affair, I played her father Mr Desmond. He was a wild haired weirdo. I didn’t have to do much. Just turn up.

But now she’s changed her name to Zoe and is slowly creeping into Corrie as bloody Platt’s girlfriend. I’m going to have to put my foot down.

A year ago today I wrote my first blog entry. You can find it here. It’s a test one really, not about much; though in saying that I do Bobbin and Tess a disservice.

A year ago I was full of crazy excitement. Blogging was a new adventure. I hadn’t got a clue what I would write. I felt that bit by bit, writing at least a post a day, I would find my feet and discover why I was doing this.

A year on I’ve slowed down a bit. No post every day, but I try for a couple a week. And I’ve expanded. We’ve got the Trev and Simon blog on the go, and I’ve started 20th Century Mummified Fox– a blog where I can indulge in my love of films.

I still don’t know why I’m doing this. I haven’t found my feet. Of course it’s an indulgence; no doubt I am showing off, but showing off what? It’s not a comedy blog. It’s not some kind of confessional. I’m no film critic. Nor a photographer. But this blog is made up of bits of all of these. And lots of animals.

And it keeps me busy when times are tough. I enjoy it. And so, sometimes, do some of you. All of the people who come here and read or look, thank you. I know there’s lots of blogs out there, blah blah blah airline appreciation speech.

And thank you all for your comments. I enjoy reading them and I enjoy the interaction. And, to my pleasant surprise, the comments over the year have been thoughtful and considered, even when being critical. I haven’t, as yet, had to delete any for taking the chance to hurl abuse at me. Still, there’s time. My blog is just a baby.

Since the whole blogging thing is one enormous indulgence, for Mummified Fox’s first birthday I am going to pick some of my blog favourites from my 234 posts. One from each month.

November 2008- This and That’s Entertainment. Every year I go to Great Yarmouth to play pool. But which is best, Great Yarmouth or Las Vegas?

December 2008- Tommie Smith and John Carlos. I drag my family to see the Tommie Smith and John Carlos statue in San Jose.

January 2009- Murderer. Me, Trev and Cyndi Lauper have a close shave with Coronation Street murderer Tony Gordon.

February 2009- Deal or No Deal on the Dole. Ok, a bit of a weird one. this is a story about Deal or No Deal, Noel Edmonds, a luckless contestant, and Cosmic ordering.

March 2009- The Nazis. I drew them at school and only got a B+.

April 2009- A Nightingale sang in the 100 Club. A sort of review of the Nightingales and Ted Chippington.

May 2009- “Yes, I spent money on furniture”. Shadow Education Secretary Michael Gove and the elephant lamps we bought him. Including comments from the man himself (or so it seems).

June 2009- Pigs, a goose and a sheep. Just as it says.

July 2009- I’m going to cheat here and mention two posts. I’m not quite sure why it’s cheating; there’s no rules, it’s my blog. But at the top of this post I did say I’d pick one from each month, so yes, I am cheating. First Like the circles that you find– a guide to reglazing windows. And also RIP Rob. Rob sold the Big Issue outside Hither Green station. He died in July.

August 2009- Little and Large. My mum and dad used to go to The Talk of the North in the 70’s and see all the top acts. Years later I get to meet one of them.

September 2009- The Rogers Brothers and the Cox twins. The real life inspiration for two of our characters.

October 2009- Bigmouth strikes again. Possibly my most personal and indulgent post and also my most commented on.

So there’s some of my favourites for the year. If you click on any of them I hope you enjoy them. And if you do, please look at some of the remaining 221 posts.

I was going to use the blog’s first birthday to say why it’s called Mummified Fox. but I’m going to save that for next year.


Happy 1st Birthday Mummified Fox

Gail’s gay dad

July 17, 2009

BloodYesterday I had time to kill and so I used my pay monthly film pass to go and see the entertainingly awful Blood; the last Vampire. I knew nothing about it and I know nothing of the anime original, so anime boffins out there, don’t give me a hard time. This is very much a Roy Walker style review, if you get my drift.

Go and see it. You won’t be disappointed. It’s truly rubbish. And it’s only 80 minutes long. You’ll find nothing new here. It’s your standard half vampire/half human schoolgirl takes on the baddy vampires type of stuff. It’s Buffy meets Blade. It’s Bluffy.

Here’s why you should see it. The film obviously couldn’t afford any big stars, so they’ve gone and got characters from English soaps to try and pretend they’re Hollywood big-shots. Look! There’s Larry Lamb (dad of George) from Triangle and Eastenders doing his best to be Jon Voight. And he does a good job. But it’s still Larry Lamb, dad of George, rather than Jon Voight, dad of Angelina.

And who’s this sinister character who only gets one scene that doesn’t really make any sense? Why, it’s Gail’s gay dad from Coronation Street. You might also recognise Gail’s gay dad as the Nazi who wrestles with Harrison Ford atop a tank in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. We need more actors like Michael Byrne (Gail’s gay dad) and Ian Mckellen, who popped up in Corrie as dodgy novelist Mel Hutchwright. More actors who can play Nazis and mutants and wizards… and then pop into The Rovers for a pint.

And my favourite; Liam Cunningham. A fine Irish actor with many great performances behind him no doubt. But not this one. It’s not his fault. I’m guessing the producers asked for a Harvey Keitel type. Grizzly bearded, wearing a fedora and shades, he goes for the Harvey look but in the end comes across more like an Elvis Costello tribute act.

Liam Cunningham

This film is an 18 certificate. What on earth were the BBFC thinking? Ok, so a samurai sword pierces someone’s eye, but come on, you get that in your average episode of High School Musical. This film should be a 15 at the very very most. Ideally a U. It’s bloody, yes. But only in a bubbly CGI kind of way. The last thing Blood; the Last Vampire is, is a film for adults.

If you are unlike me and don’t have time to kill; if your time is precious; then avoid it. But if you like a laugh, go.

And if you like vampire films, but good ones, why not try these? Near Dark, 30 Days of Night and Let the Right One In.

Watch the trailer for Blood; the Last Vampire here. My favourite bit? The caption “from a producer of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”.

Say what you see.


January 30, 2009

I’ve met a murderer. At the time I didn’t know this. I was with Trev Neal and Cyndi Lauper, and looking back we were all lucky to escape with our lives. This may sound like some kind of fantasy, but it is all true.

I’m a big fan of the only reality TV show worth watching; Coronation Street. Watching the antics of those Northern folks keeps me in touch with my roots. When people ask me if I really think Coronation Street is real, I say “I believe it to be real.” You try using reason and logic in the face of belief; you’ll get nowhere.

Another hobby of mine other than watching Coronation Street is to scour YouTube for old clips of me and Trev. It passes the time, and it also fools me into thinking I’m working and it’s the 20th Century. A week ago, someone put this on You Tube. It’s the Video Grand Prix; a segment of Live and Kicking where the two of us and a couple of guests would fool around while supposedly reviewing the new pop songs of the week. I enjoyed the first minute or so and then I froze in horror. Our second guest was an actor called Gray O’Brien. He was in Casualty. But not anymore.

At some point Gray O’Brien packed in acting and decided to buy a knicker factory in Coronation Street. A knicker factory called Underworld. He even changed his name. He’s now called Tony Gordon. And he kills people. He killed Liam O’Connor. People who watch Coronation Street know this. And yet the police have done nothing. We’ve seen Maria try to unmask him, but now everyone just thinks she’s nuts. She thought he’d killed Jed Stone, but Tony brought Jed back to Coronation Street to prove that he was alive. But Tony’s sneaky, and anyone who watches too much TV will know that Jed Stone, years back, was Hopkirk in Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased). Yes, deceased! If he could appear on TV as Hopkirk (deceased) why can’t he appear on Coronation Street as Jed Stone (deceased).

We we’re nearly murdered. Along with Cyndi Lauper. It’s a fact. Look at those black eyes in the YouTube clip. How did we get those? Tony Gordon had murder in his mind years before he became a knicker king.

I rest my case. And my brain.


English pub

January 5, 2009


There’s an English pub in Cupertino, California. And every year around this time we (me and my brother-in-law) head off to meet Morris and Morten. This year Don joined us too. And then we drink English beers, on draft. Beers like Fuller’s and Boddington’s and Newcastle Brown Ale. And we talk about football (Oh, if you must, soccer).

Ok, I lied. Not about the soccer, where I bluff my way through the Premiership, but about the beer. I lay off the English beers. I can get enough of them at home. I drink Fat Tire… helping me maintain my New Year’s Resolution to get fat.

The English pub is The Duke of Edinburgh. A “pub designer from England”, according to their blurb, came over, designed the pub, returned to England, had it built, shipped it back over to the US in bits, rebuilt it in Cupertino. And it looks just like an English pub. Well done, “pub designer from England”! What was the last pub you designed? One found in the middle of a concrete estate from the sixties, where the outside is like a wood panelled box and the inside is all nicotine-stained gloss paint, deep red velvet bench chairs, shiny brass lamps and swirly carpets to hide the spilt beer, blood and vomit?

Oh, and there’s darts and a jukebox too. Last night it played “Ghost Town” by The Specials.

Within minutes of us arriving a man fell off his bar stool. A high one he was sitting at, on the verge of enjoying his bar meal (Yes, they do food at the English pub). He wasn’t punched, nor was he drunk. He fainted. He was flat out. To quote Clint Black, “the lights are on, nobody’s home.” Morris jumped in, placing a comb between the man’s teeth in case he was having a fit. And the Emergency services were called.

Yes, services, not just the one. First on the scene was the Fire Service. Then the ambulance arrived. Then the sheriff arrived. And then the bill arrived. Not the Old Bill. The bill for his meal. Once the man came around and found that he hadn’t broken his neck, the English pub billed him for food he was destined never to eat. He left on a gurney. Gurney! Sidewalk I get. Elevator I get. But gurney for stretcher I don’t get.

With the fainting drama out of the way we could get on with talking about things like, oh, Mark Hughes’ chances of survival after City’s shocking defeat in the FA Cup. That kind of thing. And why Morten now supports Aston Villa… something to do with them having a Norwegian in the team.

Oh, and we had to order our beers. Despite the bar seen below, complete with barman, you do not order your drinks at the bar. A waiter or waitress comes and serves you. Now this is like no English pub I know, other than The Rovers Return. And that’s a fictional pub in Coronation Street. And in that pub, the drinks are only brought to your table when it serves some dramatic purpose (eg. Betty brings Emily a sherry and a hotpot and overhears Norris say that Ken’s been seen buying crack cocaine). It’s all just a little bit Twilight Zone-y.

But we drink and we drink and we drink. At least five times but I’m not going to keep typing “we drink”, even though that’s the fourth time and it would only have taken one more go to make this sentence much much shorter than it’s turned out to be. And then we stagger home. It’s a long walk, through the dangerous streets of Sunnyvale… yes, as dangerous as they sound. We get back after 1am. Not bad for a bunch of oldies.


dog-and-ballThis isn’t Manchester City’s most expensive player, Robinho, but I don’t want to be charged £6000 for not knowing my copyright infringement laws, so best play it safe and use a pic of a dog with a ball.

Robinho, swiftly becoming my hero because he catches the bus and watches Coronation Street, doesn’t catch the bus and doesn’t watch Coronation Street. How could the News of the World get it so wrong? Now I’ll have to worship him for his football skills alone. Which isn’t a bad deal, other than my knowledge of football skills is confined to he shoots, he scores, he occasionally nutmegs. Oh, and yes, I know, we were properly beaten by United yesterday but what a great run, the length of the field, from Joe Hart in the dying minutes to at least stop it becoming 2-0. And again, my football knowledge is limited, but Ronaldo, I know a hand ball when I see one… sorry, both hands ball.

But why no bus trips to the Trafford Centre? Robinho told The Guardian; “I used the bus when I was growing up in Brazil. I don’t want to diminish anyone who travels on the bus but I haven’t done that for a long time.” And his response to the story that he is watching Coronation Street to improve his English? “Very funny. Hahahahaha.” Shame. You can read the full interview here.

It just keeps getting better and better for Manchester City. Sort of. Ok, they could do with a few more wins, but beating Arsenal 3-0 yesterday is a good start. More of the same please against Schalke 04 and then that other team closer to home on Saturday. in the meantime, Robinho, keep on watching Coronation Street.

Yes, according to the News of the World (so it has to be true) Robson De Souza aka Robinho… will soon be aka “Ken Robinho-Low”. See what the NOTW has done there? They’ve replaced the Bar of Barlow with Robinho, to make a play on words that absolutely fails.

Still, only days after we find out that the most expensive footballer ever ever in the universe uses the bus, it’s revealed that he is learning English by watching Coronation Street. A source reveals that “the lads have been calling him Ken in training.” Why Ken? Why not someone who could actually kick a ball, like psycho Platt, or grease monkey Kevin “I used to look like Keegan” Webster? Or possibly Hayley. But Ken? Mother-in-law Blanche could nutmeg him even with her Polish hip. Maybe his team mates are having a bit of a laugh.

But top marks to the Brazilian for embracing Mancunion culture so readily. Next bus shopping trip, Robbo, stock up on the Hollands Meat and Potato Pies and Vimto. Oh, and start listening to Oasis and Brian and Michael.

Here, thanks to an old TV Times shoot from 1970 recently unearthed by the Mail Online, is what Robinho might look like if he travels any further down the Barlow Road.