How My Father Invented Flying

Over the years I have come to realise that my father was a man of many hidden talents. Yes, he had his faults, a bet on the horses, a drink with the lads….However, on the plus side, he wasn’t a bad man, though he didn’t suffer fools gladly. And that is exactly how he came to invent flying with electricity.

My ex (now deceased) brother-in-law was something of a Walter Mitty. Whatever anybody else in the family had done, Walter had not only done it, but he’d done it better. Needless to say, this did not endear him to the family, least of all my father.

One day my father, an experienced, if not qualified, electrician was replacing a light switch in the hall at home. In the middle of doing one of the very few things he did at home (my father used to tell me never to do a job well as you would only be mithered to do more), there was a knock at the door. It was Walter, come to pay the family a visit.

“Hello Pops, what ya up to?” Walter enquired.

The over-familiar, presumptuous, nomenclature ’Pops’ did not sit well with my father. In fact, he despised what was clear sycophancy by some upstart who had ideas above his station, like rising up from the aspirational middle class to the unemployed working class. What’s more, the very idea of being anything akin to a father to Walter was enough to chill my father to the bone. 'Pops' didn’t answer Walter’s question.

“Ahhhh, changing a switch I see.” Said Walter, being the bright spark that he was.

“Did I ever tell you about my days as a senior electrician on the HMS Bismark, Pops?” Those of us close by simply raised our eyes to the ceiling as we all shared the same thought, oh gawd, here we go again, dreaming up some non-existent past.

Of course, my father knew that this was a lie as Walter hadn’t even been born when the Bismarck went sailing. My father decided to call Walter’s bluff.

“Oh well, you being such an expert, perhaps you can help me out a little. Here take hold of this wire for me please.”

Walter, ever eager to ingratiate himself with my father, stepped forward to take the wire coloured red. If Walter had had half a brain he still wouldn’t have known that the red wire was a live wire. No sooner did Walter reach over to firmly take hold of the red wire between thumb and fingertip, than his whole valueless body, filled with 240 volts of AC/DC current, went flying down the hallway and smashed into the back of the front door and then slid down the door onto the hall floor. As Walter settled into a crumpled heap, his pretentious, chequered, pork pie trilby slid down off his head and covered his face. It was a scene straight out of an Abbot and Costello comedy. We very young children thought it was hilarious and hid behind the living room door sniggering to ourselves.

“Oh!” said Pops sarcastically, “I thought you being an expert you'd have known that that was one dumbass thing to do.”

On reflection, I now realise that Pops, my father, had invented flying with electricity. The only part that needed working on was the landing. Then again, when there is very little love lost between the Pilot Trainer and a delusional wannabe Tyro, what more do you expect? I personally consider it an act of pure genius that my father invented flying without wings or any type of fossil fuel, long after the Wright Brothers and before Elon Musk and his ilk were even born.

Speaking of film comedy, many years later I came across another fool who had ideas well above his station in life and below his whale-poo IQ.

Way back in the naughty nineties, I was a very active actor. Tv soaps and series, mainly extra and small parts, plus a Beatles pop video (Free As A Bird) and one Hollywood film with Albert Finney and Tom Courtney (The Dresser). Very small parts, blink and you’ll miss me.

On one soap, Emmerdale Farm, I played the part of Mandy Dingle's father. Fat chance or perish the thought that that was ever going to lead to superstardom.

On set, out in the Yorkshire countryside, on a biting-cold, blustery day, we were shooting a routine scene in which the character Jack Sugden is having a chat with his screen mother, Ma Sugden, in a meadow.

Nearby lurked those who were not in the scene. This included a very ambitious young lad who really thought he had what it took to make the big time. The Boy With The Stars In His Eyes, bless him.

The boy started to boastfully claim to all and sundry how he had what it took to be a rising star, all he needed was that one little chance to shine and he would be well on his way to Hollywood. The good life was beckoning intensely. Surrounded by cameras, lights and famous soap stars, the boy could almost taste the caviar and pink champagne on ice.

In a scene straight out of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, a group of old-timer extras decided to have a little fun with the lad. They told him that if he watched the scene being briefly rehearsed before going for a shot, and could come up with some sort of improvisation, he could well be on his way to the big time. They told the starstruck lad to wait until the Director called out "Action!” At the appropriate time, the boy was told to just walk right into the scene and improvise.

The Director duly called “Action!" And as the character Jack Sudden got to the end of his chat with his screen Ma, the boy made his move. He walked straight into the middle of the scene and said……….

“Hey up Jack, can I have a word? I believe I could well be your illegitimate son.”

The actor playing the part of Jack was taken completely by surprise. In fact, he was in nothing less than apoplectic shock. The no less dumbfounded Director Screamed out “CUT!!!” And marched over to the boy and screamed

“WHO THE F..K ARE YOU?? WHAT THE F..K DO YOU THINK YOU’RE PLAYING AT?

The boy, totally misinterpreting the Director’s reaction, set full sail into what he thought was a great sales pitch.

“I was good, wasn’t I? ‘Ave ya seen me tap dance? Michael Jackson’s got nothing on me, mate. An’ as for singing’……Freddie Mercury can’t hold a candle to me.”

“Ok,” seethed the Director. “Who are you, who told you to come here? Who told you to just barge into a scene and totally screw up a morning's work costing thousands of pounds? Come on, tell me, who?”

The boy started to stammer. “Well….it was…those guys…..over there,” he muttered uncertainly, as he swung around to point to the group of old men extras.

As the boy turned to point out the culprits, he saw that there was nobody there. The old timers had ducked down behind a drystone wall and were peeing themselves laughing like drains. The poor boy’s career of superstardom had crashed in flames before it had even gotten started.

“Ok, you get the hell out of here NOW! You will NEVER, EVER work on tv again in your miserable little pip-squeak life, make no mistake about that, Sonny-Jim. Somebody take this blithering idiot back into town immediately.”

And that was the end of that little pipe dream. Crash and burn, all in ruins, poor lad.

On the one hand, it was truly a tragic end to such an ever-so-promising career. And yet, it was also absolutely freekin hilarious. And that my dear friends, just about sums up how life is, “A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

https://www.amazon.com/author/ryanobryan