A Moments Silence Please

It is with deep regret, ladies and gentlemen, that I have to announce a death in the Hennegan Birmingham household. Yes, after many years, dear people, a beloved pet has passed over. I am now a house without any fish. None. Not a single one. Apart from the fish fingers in the freezer, but it would be as tasteless as they are to mention them at this point.

Yes, dear friends. A great shock.

What can I say about Flappy the GoldFish.? Well, for a start, his name was not really Flappy. No. Many years ago, when the sun seemed brighter, the days longer and the grass greener, I skipped gaily into King Heath and purchased two fish and a bowl for a fiver. Neil and Buzz as they were known to one obsessed with the moon landing, cost 50p each. The folly of a child, naming fish after two of the most famous humans on the planet. Or it would have been had I not been 42 years old. But no matter. It was obvious who was who. Neil was a mustard coloured fish that seemed contemplative and solid. He'd gently fin his was round the bowl. Buzz, on the other hand, was bordering on manic. He'd shoot round the bowl like a thing possessed and was rarely still. Not an inch of the bowl was unexplored by Buzz. Although it was a small bowl. And their fishy personalities matched their famous humans. Neil Armstrong, arguably the most famous man ever, since that eventful day in 1969 has rarely given interviews, shuns publicity and lives quietly. Buzz Aldrin, on the other hand, got back from the moon and shot around like a mad thing, glorying in everything and picking up the odd addiction along the way.

There is one big difference with my Neil and Buzz, mind. Neil only lasted a week or so. He probably bored himself to death. Buzz, on the other hand just kept manically swimming everywhere and growing and growing. And when my lovely lady Rebs saw him, knowing more about animals than I do (if not an actor, she would have liked to have been a vet. She deals with me quite well...) she instantly commented on the size of his fins and the fact he flapped around a lot. Hence the nick-name Flappy. I think she thought Buzz was a stupid name..

John Slater saw Flappy about a month ago.

"Woah! Big goldfish", he said. And he was right.

The end, when it came, was quick. He'd been a bit off colour for a week or so. No, not off Gold colour. We fish owners just know. I played with his aeration for a bit, but it was to no avail. He did his belly up thang and although I left him for a day or so ( he did it once before and recovered. An attention-seeking ruse, I think) and I tried some medicine, it was to no avail and he passed away officially last night. He is now at rest with the other Hennegan pets - Andropov the Mexican Red Kneed Tarantula - in the Hennegan Pet Plot. Up the garden. Not buried, ju st chucked up the garden and left for nature.

I couldn't flush Flappy down the loo - he'd have blocked a main sewer, the size of him. Obviously I am distraught and yet my pain is eased by the fact that the sodding thing cost me a fortune in fish tanks, filter, pumps and other tackle. His last set up cost about five hundred quid in total! EBay, here I come!

A-hem. Please feel free to attach any tributes/comments to this post. He didn't get out much, but Flappy had a good innings, as they say. Amen.

Flappy/Buzz in happier times. He was a good fish. We shall not see his gigantic likes again. (Unless I nip down the fish shop of course.)

As I was Saying

I've done almost everything this month, and jolly good fun it has been too. After my one appearance as John Slater's driver/stand in Lighting bloke a few weeks ago, he called again last Sunday as he'd been let down. This time it was a less glamorous job - Van Driver And Bloke Who Dropped Off Set/Cloths/Lights At Various Places In London. Now when I say less glamorous, I mean the title was, but scooting round the Opera House, Royal Ballet and various other central London locations was actually, to a theatre anorak such as myself, quiet exotic. And John lead in his posh van. And it was great to do a job where I had no responsibility. Plus, as someone who occasionally lives in London and therefore never drives in town, it was a real novelty! And if, like me, you never drive in central London, let me tell you the congestion charge has worked a miracle! You can almost get into second gear in the centre now. Of course, the Euston Road and other routes just outside the zone are another matter...

So that's that. In addition I had an interview for a Masters Degree at a University in London. This is pretty cool, considering education and society generally had written me off as a child when I failed my 11 plus. (I think I might be dyslexic with figures - I would often get letters the wrong way round. But now we have calculators it doesn't matter. )

Then, I finally got my remortgage through which, although it was less than I needed at least allows me to put £10k into Maverick Theatre and give it a chance of life. There are 2 or 3 dear people that Maverick still owes money to. I won't name them, but they were involved with the creation of the Henry V - Lion of England tour and the relaunch of the company and although they will probably never work for me again, they will also probably never know how grateful I am that they understood our particular problems and when they could have got very shitty indeed, they decided to give me the benefit of the doubt and just be patient. It's not what typical commercial businesses are supposed to do and it is so brilliant that they decided not to be typical. Be assured, I have a list in me head of people who have been kind to me and Maverick and if we ever do make any real dosh, they will get first choice of everything.

We may have an established venue prepared to co-produce Hancock's Finest Hour. That too is very good.

I had a phone call from a former colleague and now a chum and I am going to be doing some inserts into the breakfast show of Smooth-fm in the West Midlands for three weeks soon. I also have a couple of standing tickets for David Tennant (Dr Who) and Patrick Stewart (Star Trek) at the RSC I can't use. They are apparently like Rocking Horse Dung, so I might head for EBay.

And I still get the odd mail about BRMB, and having gone to a doo last week maybe I should do a bit about it. But it's too late now. Although when I first met John Slater....