YOU REALLY NEED A CAR

By Keith Newbery - Friday, April 25, 2008

The speed signs that have started appearing everywhere on the Island.

THIS ISLAND LIFE
A FRIEND of mine, Mick Bull, swears he knows somebody who refuses to take any car journey on the Island that involves a right turn.
Apparently, this chap will go out of his way to ensure he does not have to cross an oncoming line of traffic on the basis that (a) it’s becoming too dangerous and (b) nobody will stop and let him through at peak times anyway.
It goes without saying he will never turn right on a mini-roundabout on the completely understandable basis that the Island is infested with motoring morons who either don’t know or don’t care they are supposed to give way to traffic coming from the right.
In this context the sign ‘no right turn’ takes on an entirely different connotation but it’s just another example of the peculiarities involved in driving on the Island these days.
Take the Christmas decorations that have suddenly appeared everywhere eight months early. The tinselly red and blue colours are quite fetching but the designs – ‘30mph’ or ‘your speed is …’ become a little tedious after a while.
Two pals of mine (who should have known better at their age) emerged from a public house the other evening and decided to find out whether the speed assessment gadgets worked if you were not actually in a vehicle.
The first one went back 50 yards and galloped towards the sign, eventually getting it to register a speed of 12mph. This was not bad for an inebriated garage director in his 50th year and much boasting ensued.
Stung by the jibes, his friend took an even longer run-up and had reached 11mph when he tore a hamstring going for the record. Neither of them seemed to appreciate the fact they are so overweight these contraptions actually registered them as a vehicle.
While we’re on the subject of motoring on the Island, have you noticed how many 4x4s are driven by blonde women aged between 25 and 50?
Every other one I pass seems to have a peroxide head peering between the spokes of the steering wheel, with an expression pitched somewhere between disdain and exhilaration. Make a mental note next time you’re on the road. You’ll be amazed how many there are.
It always brings to mind that photograph of Margaret Thatcher standing in the tower of a Challenger tank during the first Gulf War. She was not the sort of woman who went in for that sort of political fancy dress very often but there was no mistaking the delight she took in this particular role.
Her head-scarf was billowing alongside the Union flag, her eyes glittered behind the huge pair of goggles and the expression of triumph and superiority on her face was even more pronounced than usual.
What is it about blonde ladies of a certain age and the delights of heavy machinery? I think we should be told.

LIBERACE — THE IW CONNECTION
A COUPLE of weeks ago I mentioned that one of my heroes was the former Daily Mirror columnist, William Connor, who wrote under the name of Cassandra.
He is probably best known for the libel action taken out against him by Liberace, after he had described the entertainer as, among other things, ‘a deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromium-plated, scent-impregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruit-flavoured, mincing, ice-covered heap of mother love’. In the unlikely event we hadn’t got the message, he added: “He is the summit of sex — the pinnacle of masculine, feminine and neuter. Everything that he, she and it can ever want.”
Liberace, understandably a tad miffed at being described thus, took the matter to court and was awarded 22,400 dollars, plus costs. This was a considerable fortune in the late 50s and led Liberace to coin the phrase he had ‘cried all the way to the bank’.
It is also widely believed in journalistic circles that Connor and the Mirror were not entirely displeased with the way things turned out either. After all, they received a remarkable amount of publicity, which continues to this day. A shrewd investment, some might say.
The trial proved to be a memorable occasion for a young legal executive who was working on another case at the High Court in London at the time.
Roger Mazillius (for it was he) was using the lavatory at the time and who should come and stand at the adjoining receptacle but Liberace and his counsel.
Roger told me: “We smiled in mutual acknowledgment and he seemed a jolly pleasant sort of chap.
“He and his lawyer were discussing the case quite openly and seemed perfectly happy with the way things were going.”
It was pointed out to me many years ago by a number of raddled hacks that as I grew old in journalism I would be astonished how many national news stories had some sort of Isle of Wight connection, no matter how oblique.
They were quite right — and here’s another to add to the list.

YOU REALLY NEED A CAR

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