2008 European Capful of Custard. A glorious chapter in the history of Grotty Cash, that will be remembered in council tax bills for years to come. Of course I’m no longer under contract to the Custard Company to provide my in depth analysis but felt it important that I pay tribute to those who didn’t make it happen and look forward to the future. Incidentally, as my loyal readers will both be aware, I was paid off through the Sayers sponsorship with 200,000 sausage rolls, since my actual salary for this was £3.98 per entry that is a massive investment in the city’s economy of £900million pounds when you add up all the cultural visitors to Sayers in 2008.
Forget the fireworks, and the light show; the climax for me was the long awaited limerick from Reggie McCough. Although I think it was amended on the night.
As the curtain falls off on two thousand and eight
For certain, the town wants to calculate
The passing of a 125 million pounds blown
As most of the greedy outsiders have flown.
“We won the Capital of Culture prize
and on our cash they tried to capitalise
The vultures, who plucked the Liver birds
Who had no clue about music, art and words.
“City of cover-ups where truth has been slain
Melting the facts with the fiction again
We’ll slam the door shut, with a cheer that is hearty
And sing when we’re rid of the Scouse Lib Dem Party.”
Last week also saw the arrival in Liverpool of Prime minister Mr Gordon Blimey who was clearly in the mood to celebrate, having brought with him his entire drinks cabinet. They all met up in the Bad News Bar to try and get some cash out of Professor Rednose, with Andy Barmy, the Custard Secretary tasked with thinking of something to compensate Lord Brookside for the lack of a Knighthood.
The exciting announcement that our very own Lord Rednose is to head a panel of highly self important experts on very little who will decide every four years which British city can ladle itself as a city of custard was met with stifled guffaws from the assembled audience and horror by civic leaders nationally at the thought of him ever visiting.
Of course one man who wasn’t laughing, was little Wally Bradlow the leader of the council who was locked out by security on Rednose’s instructions and was left to sit alone outside on the cold step, sobbing “ I am only a simple fireman” when a cruel passer by said, “well put that out then” stubbing a cigarette out on his head.
By the way missus, for all you people who mocked the good professor for his scruffy appearance, I was shocked to recently discover that he is not a multi millionaire living in Frodsham but is in fact a vagrant living under Tarpaulin. No wonder he came up with the idea of designing a bench for Liverpool, somewhere for him to have a kip.
As you know missus, Sir Diddy and I used to be very close - well I had to stoop down a bit – and it was of course Sir Diddy with his finger in so many pies who was crucial in getting us the year of custard. But Sir Diddy was cruelly driven out of the city before he could rake himself an even greater personal fortune. The last time I saw him was on that NHS you tube comedy video with him giving advice about healthy living, there he was looking like a pillowcase full of condemned meat, talking about obesity. How he kept a straight face I’ll never know.
The saddest loss for me during 2008 was Lloyd Goosefat. Anyone who can cook a gourmet sausage through the keyhole has my utmost respect and as chair of our museums and sculleries I had great confidence in their future as a tourist attraction.
Now of course we have Mr and Mrs Rednose running them. No doubt the Walker Art Gallery will soon get rid of the pre-Raphaelites and have the Grange Hill exhibition and start replacing Turner with Tucker, Rembrandt with Bobby Grant, Holbein with Holly Oaks and dump Rodins’ The Kiss, for Brookies first Lesbian Kiss.
Yes, the quantity surveyor from Huyton, whose cultural contribution to the art world has been a kids telly programme that had minor rude bits in which made it a hit, and a soap opera, that in spite of some talented writers and actors (Jimmy Corkhead excluded) created some of the worst scouse stereotypes ever seen. Sadly both cancelled.
The pretend Professor, I am sorry to say, is the legacy the powers that be wish to impose upon us. Or he will be unless the real arts organisations, artists, writers and performers of Merseyside come together to keep genuine culture alive and growing in the city, just the way they did for 2008, and saved the city from the near disaster at the hands of Custard Company, the City leadership and the scouse wedding usher.
Now showing at the Odious Cinema and Everywhere
The Legacy Films present: The Culture Vultures
But anyway missus, back to lighter things. I simply cannot conclude the year of Custard without mentioning perhaps the most spectacular event on the streets during the entire year.
When the whole city was brought to a standstill by the amazing spectacle of La Princess, the grotesque hairy-legged creature that stalked the city streets. Yes, Princess Anne opening the Liverpool One shopping area.
Now some people were disappointed that London had the other thing with the big ears but I can tell you, when we got up close and the Princess stuck her head through our car window, it was a moment that my young niece will never forget.
And we will never forget our year as European Capital of Custard, as we hand over the laurel and hardy wreath to our guests, the new holders of the prestigious title (pictured left) from the Transylvanian City of Suk and the Bavarian City of Byte, lets hope they are free from the kind of bloodsuckers that almost wrecked it for us.
So ladies and gentlemen, as the year is concluded, so is my own little contribution to this capital of custard.
Unless anything amazing happens, like the standards board for England publishing the findings on the Wally Bradlow investigation or there is any scandalous behaviour or cover-ups from our local leadership, or the disgraced JackaStorey becomes Mayor in 2009, or Liverpool Direct continues to bleed the city coffers dry after march or the Lib Dems remain in power…so you never know.
Before I go, I wish to congratulate all those of you who worked to make the year a success and also say thank you to those who gave me so much material. You owe it all to yourselves and nobody else.
And a special thank you to a couple of people in particular on the local parish council.
And so I end with some pictures of just a few of the stars of 2008 I haven’t mentioned this time. (Sobs into pair of Missus Chucklebutty’s Bloomers – realises what they are and runs to the kitchen for some swarfega)
Be Nice to each other!
The good and the great of 2008
Bryan Grain of the NWDAFT
Donald Duckinson of the first train out when there was trouble
DrAculaHinney of Liverpool Direct Debit
Conductor Sir Simon Throttle arriving at the Phil
Mr La De Da Gunner Stilton Chief of Executive of Undercover Operations
The next Mayor of Grotty Cash Muck Storeyteller
And once more to play us out, Sir Simon Throttle conducting the Royal Liverpool Philredmondic Orchestra in the anthem for 2008
All the Money's Gone.
This is also the closure of the blog to Celebrate Capital Of Custard 2008 but fear not, you can still keep up to date with
Professor Chucklebutty's Liverpool
Political & Cultural Chronic Calls
New for 2009 the legacy years start now!
follow the link below.
Tatty Bye Everybody Tatty Bye!
and Hello Chronic Calls.