An (as always) long-overdue change to my TOTDOWOHOICBATCI; this year’s first offering is a gem from Nik Kershaw, one of only two famous musicians* to hail from my home town of Ipswich (the other being the lead vocalist of comedy metallists “Cradle of Filth”, Danni Minogue, or something.)

“The Riddle” is the title track of Kershaw’s second album, and it’s brilliant. The lyrics are frankly wacky (although to be fair, he does give us fair warning of this in the title.) In fact, oblique lyrics seemed to be the ’80s pop artist’s stock-in-trade (look up the lyrics of most tracks by Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, Tears for Fears etc, and they are usually utterly impenetrable; sixth form poetry on acid) - Kershaw might well be taking the rise gently out of some of his peers. Or there may actually be a riddle… I’ve never worked it out. (Chez?)

The melody is simple and incredibly catchy; I defy you to listen to this a couple of times, and not then go around for the rest of the day humming “da-da tree by a river de-de hole in the ground, la-la dum-dum-de-dum-dum goes around and around”. By contrast the chord progression is fairly tricky-sounding, but surprisingly easy to play on a guitar - indicating which instrument it was composed on, despite its synthy production.

Kershaw is most often likened to fellow big-haired intelligent pop-purveyor Howard Jones, but there are also several likenesses to Sting; namely i) both were serious musicians who’d already been “payin’ dues” for several years before hitting paydirt slightly late with a teeny fanbase (thanks in no small part to judicious use of hair product); ii) both were liberal in the employment of a reggae lilt to lend a rhythmical hook to their early hits; and finally iii) both were known to engage in 18-hour tantric sex sessions with members of Amazonian rainforest tribes who’d had dinner plates inserted into their upper lips**.

As “pop” goes, this kicks seven shades out of the crap we endure today; never mind today’s endless highly-choreographed “Glee” routines, the processed hi-NRG guff which TM listens to whilst pumping iron, and the armies of manufactured, immediately forgettable indie-folkie-twee girlies and dishevelled posh blokes whose dads own the record company - this is a real song, composed on a real instrument by the person who ended up performing it, and repeatable by the same person 25 years later on the same instrument. I’d like to see any Cowell acolyte do a convincing solo version of one of their hits NOW, never mind in 25 years’ time.

It’s official - Nik Kershaw rocks, and Ipswich was clearly the centre of the musical universe in the 1980s.

(* - apart from i) Tommy Stupid of legendary skate punks The Stupids, and ii) the now-forgotten performer of a daring note-for-note cover version of  Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”, which ran to an impressive 300 7″ vinyl copies in 1987.)

(** - this one might not be true.)

A friend of mine got himself into a bit of a pickle tonight; over Valentine’s Day dinner tonight, his wife apparently opined that the wine they were drinking was “dry, with no real complexity”, whereupon he quipped “a bit like you, then”. Not, as his subsequent Facebook lament from the doghouse confirms, the greatest conversational gambit - but very funny, nonetheless.

It reminded me a bit of when, during a family get-together, my sister performed a cod-psychological test on my father; she asked him to name his favourite manifestation of water (river, rain etc), and to pick three adjectives to describe it. According to the test, your ideal concept of water corresponds with your deepest inner feelings about love, romance and sex, and the adjectives are supposed to describe both. Unfortunately, his water manifestation was “the sea”, and his adjectives were “wide, flat and angry”…

Call it a sport, a glorified parlour pastime, or just a silly game which the Chinese invented* simply in order that they could be the best at something (other than manufacturing pretty much everything in the world), Table-Tennis is a VERY serious business, and when playing it, it’s important to get the terminology right.  Many’s the time I’ve lost in the Folkestone leagues to a 13-year-old greenhorn or an arthritic 80-year-old one-eyed granny, and yet found consolation in this: OK, they may have more so-called “skill” and more apparently-accurate “shots”, and they may have won more “points” than me or whatever, but I know exactly what to say during a game, and when to say it.

Just for my beloved readership, I’ll open up the inner sanctum of the lexicon of what is surely God’s Own Sport, in order to share it with you…

1) “Net” / “Let” - two umpire calls with a subtle but vital distinction.  A “net” is a command to replay the point because a serve has clipped the net; a “let” is a command to replay the point because of any other interruption (another ball flying around, injury to a player, audible protests from a pro-democracy demonstration outside complaining about the 30-year rule of a corrupt western-backed dictator etc).  When I am elected to the FDTTA council, as I surely eventually will be**, I will propose a motion to ensure that NO-ONE is allowed to officiate at the latter stages of the Folkestone Closed tournament without a 10-year unblemished record of correct differentiation between the two. Because these things matter.

2) “Good Length” - said genuinely when you’re beaten by the depth of a shot, and occasionally sarcastically when an opponent’s shot luckily hits the back edge of the table and flies off uncontrollably. Frankie Howerd fans might like to insert their own “good length”-based innuendo here.

3) “Well Up” - said, sportingly, to acknowledge an opponent who has hauled back a hefty deficit in a single game. And indeed, I often do “well up” with hot salt tears of bitter frustration after being inexorably reeled in by whichever arthritic 80-year-old one-eyed granny has taken a few points to work out how to overcome my limited armoury, but got there in the end.

4) “Good Spin” - Articulated to congratulate an opponent on an unplayably spin-loaded shot. A fairly new one on me, but that’s probably because I’ve played above my station in Division 2 for the last couple of years. Some of the spin I’ve encountered recently would make Peter Mandelson yearn for a more honest world.

5) “Fingers” -when you mistime your shot so that it hits your fingers rather than the bat, this is what you say. Superficially, the meaning is “Oh, I must get my fingers out of the way next time”, but what you really mean is “you lucky bastard opponent, I was going to win that rally - or at least produce a decent shot, but due to sheer misfortune and not-at-all because of my own ineptitude, the bloody ball hit my bloody fingers. DID YOU HEAR THAT, EVERYONE? THE BALL HIT MY FINGERS, WHICH WAS REALLY UNLUCKY. AND I WAS GOING TO WIN THAT RALLY.”

6) “Oh, for FUCK’S sake, Michael, what the hell was THAT? MOVE YOUR FEET, YOU USELESS LUMP!” - My own (regular) Wildean contribution to the light, witty banter of the game. Hasn’t really caught on yet.

And there you have it. There are more, but as I mentioned; it’s important to get these main ones right - for instance, I did once, in a moment of ill-judged whimsy, exclaim “fingery-wingers!”, and haven’t really lived it down; it still gets mentioned regularly by my team mates. In fact, I can’t think of any other reason why I’m not yet Chairman of the FDTTA Board of Governors. But I will be. Oh yes, I will be.

One day… one day….

———————

(* - actually, they didn’t invent it, despite currently having approximately 970 out of the top 1000 players in the world. We Brits did, and we initially named it “ping-pong” and occasionally “whiff-waff”. You get the feeling that either the Victorians weren’t taking it massively seriously, or possibly that its nomenclature was heavily influenced by the Great Stink of 1858.)

(** - because at some point in the next 25 years, no-one else will be arsed to do it)

Culture secretary Jeremy Hunt; massive cuts, and now multiculturalism. And we still haven’t had the debate about the repeal of the hunt ban (on which the Countryside Alliance will surely have their say.)

It’s almost as if the Tories WANT BBC presenters to swear by accident…

Q - Which 1990s pop band is much-loved by corvids who provide a service whereby they act as a neutral third party which holds payment until a transaction is concluded to the satisfaction of both buyer and seller?

A - Escrow Club 7.

(* - for  any newcomers, COSPJ stands for “Crap, obviously-self-penned joke” (the first adjective clearly extending to the title of this post). By the way, I didn’t cut and paste the subsequent exchange from Facebook; everybody just happened to comment REALLY quickly. Honest.)