McFly, pirates and lights...

For some strange reason I agreed last night to go to the "Switching on Of The Christmas Lights" ceremony in Leeds City Centre.

I've never understood why the city have to do this, hold a ceremony I mean and I confess that I still don't.

I stood there outside Cuthbert Brodericks magnificent Town Hall with a crowd of probably ten thousand or so, in front of a stage and big screen, freezing our cobblers off for half an hour before the "turns" started.

We were richly rewarded (no really) for our wait by a preview of "The WIzard of Oz" which is lodged firmy at the West Yorkshire Playhouse through the winter, Dorothy and the Scarecrow sang a couple of songs and a pair of so-called "radio personalities" who I had never heard of got all excited when Gaynor Faye (her of Coronation St and Fat Friends) rushed on stage with Father Christmas who sounded like a pissed up Peter Cook - three songs from Santa later and I was convinced that it was a pissed up Peter Cook inside the costume.

The Lord Mayor was next, with a 16 year old girl from a High School who had won a competition to pretend to be mayor for the day - both dressed in their civic regalia of three cornered hat and red cloaks with feather and fur flying, very impressive our mayor was, so impressive that a little girl behind me screamed out "look, a pirate" - and being that he was a local politician she may have been correct.

Finally a popular beat combo by the name of McFly appeared and mimed to four of their songs, I had never heard of them but they assured the crowd that they had had six number one hit singles, well I'm sorry boys, but I haven't paid much attention to the hit parade in these past thirty years and judging by last night I haven't missed much either.

And as I stood there with ten thousand screaming voices thankfully drowning out the delightful sound of McFly who were jumping all over the stage to their backing tracks, I was reminded of a similar night, many, many years ago, a warm summers night in a village somewhere in France...


...a village somewhere in France, somewhere so random that I can't even hazard a guess as to whether it was in Brittany or le Cote d'Atlantique, we were there on our three week summer holiday, circa 1970, and had found ourself in this random village where our dad spotted a poster for a free concert that was taking place in the market place that very evening - starring Sacha Distell.

Sacha Who ? You may well ask. Sacha Distell was a French heartthrob of the 1960's who had found fame on the many British TV variety programmes of the time, the likes of "Sunday Night at the London Palladium" and "The Generation Game" were forever being haunted by Sacha Distells heavy French accent pouring out his felicitations of "lurve" to all the ladies - they loved him and he had a big hit with "Raindrerps are farleeng on ma heed" in 1968.

He was the big star at the free concert and so that evening we all trooped into the little French village square and took up our place with thousands of French people, all eagerly awaiting the arrival of Sacha the sex symbol.

The event was a national tour of France sponsored by a toothpaste company eager to get French people to start using toothpaste and we were treated for several hours to the sight of giant tubes of McLeans dancing on stage with giant toothbrushes, interspersed with juggling acts, fire eaters, and lots and lots of announcements and advertisements, none of which we understood.

Four hours later we were still stood rooted to the spot and our dad was not best pleased, Sacha still had to make his appearance and it was now well past midnight, we were hungry and tired and our legs ached and our dad had missed a whole night of beer drinking to watch a four hour toothpaste advertisement, it was not funny.

And then finally Sacha Distell appeared on stage, although by this time we had been shoved so far to the back of the market place that it could have been anyone in the light blue blazer on stage.

He sang one song then buggered off.

It was not a very happy car ride home.


At least last night was all over in one hour, the lights were switched on , a big firwork display, then we buggered off to The Fox - two pints of Taylors Landlord later and I was ready to pronounce the evening a success.