Arty Farty (From Northwich Guardian)

Arty Farty

9:26am Thursday 8th April 2010

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I WOULD like to thank the wonderful local artist – soon to be internationally famous if I have my way – Michael Troy.

His short run of wonderful cartoons for my column has received critical acclaim. You can commission him to paint a real work of art, but remember real quality doesn’t come cheap.

He charges by the bristle. You do get what you pay for in this life, and he is worth every penny. And he just loves his new name, Arty Farty.

It’s now his stage name. It’s not really, it is me being childish. I intend to make him as famous as Van Gogh. I’m cutting his ear off this weekend.

It’s the same with musicians. Those who played at ‘The Billy Nomates Best Ever Do’ fundraiser went down a storm with the audience.

We opened with Keith Just Me, then One Night Stand, and finished off with the Jalapenos, making enough money to do a bit of good. Don’t breathe a word to Ms Nomates but I ended up having far too much to drink.

As we slipped past midnight I reached the big 60, but I couldn’t face it. Others came to my rescue and plied me full of ale. There I was back to being childish again.

We want to feel young, don’t we, so I persuaded Ms Nomates and her children that they wanted to go to the circus to celebrate my birthday. I met disappointment head on.

It’s not because the circus, which can’t be named for legal reasons but rhymes with Bobby Roberts, had animals in it.

Some people objected very strongly and they have the right to do so, but I couldn’t understand what the animals did except run round in circles, slobbering and smelling of animal. Ms Nomates can do that with a hoover.

It’s not nice to get personal about people, but you do form an opinion of those who perform for money for the public. It’s cruel I know, but I got the impression that quite a few of the daredevil performers enjoyed a pie or two.

There was only one clown, and I always thought that apart from scaring children, clowns are supposed to be funny. My conclusion was that they had discovered him at the job centre and found him something to do to pass the time.

The great thing about circus acts is that they are supposed to do things we mere mortals can’t, but we soon came to realise that we could all drop things as well as the juggler.

There came a point when we were on the starting blocks to do a runner when he began to juggle with fire. We just knew what was going to happen. All I can say is if you decide to visit, take your own fire extinguisher.

They wheeled out an old bloke who could stand on his hands. I suppose he must be a treat for them at the post office when he is collecting his pension. Having said that, he did climb up a funny lamp-post for his second spot and fell off.

The highlight of the evening was the wheel of death. Mark my words one day it will be if he doesn’t shape up. We could see the relief on his face as he struggled off with his assistant. You can bet your bottom dollar that there will be a big insurance policy in a draw with his name on it, because if the wheel doesn’t kill him, his rollerskating act will.

No sooner had he picked up his glamorous assistant to swing her round then he had to put her down again. It’s definitely a younger man’s job, or maybe he should try and find a much, much, much lighter assistant.

The elephant was trolled out to have its picture taken with the children. We wouldn’t pay the £5 they wanted to charge for the privilege, but instead Ms Nomates took photos of the kids on my back when we got home. She made me wear a washing machine hose on my nose as a trunk and she insisted that I made a perfect elephant. Sometimes I think that woman hates me.