Thursday, 24 December 2009

Mama Said


It was at times like those that I always wished I’d listened to what my mother had said when I was young.

Quite what that was I couldn’t tell you – I wasn’t listening – but she was usually a warmed teapot full of level-headed, practical instruction.


I always remembered what my mother had told me as a child: “Never trust a man named Jez.”

She had her reasons: “Here is someone who was born a Jeremy, with all that entails, who wants the world to view him as a Gaz, with all that entails.

“It is a solid, dependable chartered accountant of a name, now wearing leather trousers and carousing with a girl half his age. It is a name for hospital radio DJs, bar managers and university ents officers.

“He has amputated two syllables from his name and grafted on an unnatural Z.

“And if he will do that to his own name, God only knows what he will do to you.”


It’s at times like these that I always remember what my mum told me when I was young: “Shut the fuck up, Andrew.”

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