An Extremely Stupid Story

So there‘s me and Fatboy strolling down the Kings Road and he says he’s just seen The Who.

“Where?” I ask him. ‘Cause I’m thinking he must mean he’s seen them at one of this city’s fine rock ‘n’ roll venues – you know, like the O2 or Hammersmith Palais.
“No...no...you’ve missed them,” Fatboy tells me. “They must have disappeared into a shop”.
“Like Tesco?” I ask him my friend, sarcastically.
“Don’t be stupid. Do you see a Tesco?” He asks me.
“So you’re telling me, you’ve just seen The Who, all of them out shopping together?”
“And your problem is?” He sneers back.
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
“Including Keith Moon?” I ask, drawing him into a trap.
“Including Keith Moon,” he assures me.
“But he’s dead,” I say with a ‘that’s one to me, stick that in your pipe and smoke it’ kind of look, “And so’s the bass player,” I add with a final flourish.

Fatboy continues walking up Kings Road ahead of me and I’m ‘oh, ho’, he must be in a huff. Then he stops, looks around and says...
“You are a tit and a Scottish tit at that.”

Then he disappears into a shop where he’s probably continuing to purse The Who.
Okay, me and Fatboy have had our sticky moments but we’ve had some of life’s great adventures, as well.

One fine summer’s day, me and the kid were heading down to a pub at London Bridge to me meet some journalist  or other – Steve someone - as Fatboy  wants to tell him a few of our stories, and believe me we’ve got more than a few to tell.

Me and FB are the first in this rather Dickensian pub, I have a rather cheeky wee Italian beer and he has a MilkyWay  Vodka – now you’re sitting there thinking ‘what’s a Milky Way Vodka’ and I would have to tell you that it’s a Milky Way bar and vodka. Now if you don’t mind, can I get on with the story?

So this “Media Guy” - yes I did just make rabbit signs with my fingers. This “Media Guy” fails to show but instead in walks this rather charming and smelly wee man by the name of Cuthbert, something we find out after we’ve bought him his third Milky Way Vodka. Curiosity had gotten the better of him and he asked what Fatboy was imbibing (that’s the way Cuthbert talks).

And the end of a quite charming and yet heavy session Cuthbert, Fatboy and myself retire to Cuthbert’s set of apartments just off Zampa road.
Turns out that Cuthbert is both an alien and a Millwall supporter. Yeh, you heard me right, a Millwall supporter. It seems that he’s been here for years waiting on the mother ship to take him back home and while he was waiting, he thought he would take in a game of footie to while away the hours. He is an official member of the Neil Harris fan club.

Apparently Cuthbert has been here, on earth, for a good wee while and has known all the great and the good. For instance, when Millwall first started up as a proper football club in 1885, Cuthbert was there watching all the early footie matches. It was at one of those games that he met the great writer Robert Louis Stevenson (or Scottish Bob as Cuthbert called him) – Cuthbert swears that it was him who gave Scottish Bob the idea of writing Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde – on account of Cuthbert’s temper.

It was apparently Cuthbert’s temper that got him into trouble more than once. In 1888, when Millwall were having a particularly bad season Cuthbert found himself walking around the East End with a good drink in him. Aliens aren’t that good at drinking apparently and well, he would wake up in the morning covered in blood and with surgical equipment beside him.
“You get drunk a few times and they start calling you Jack the Ripper”
Fatboy said it sounded better than Cuthbert the Ripper and we all had to agree.

So where is all this going to end with Cuthbert?
Well Cuthbert says he’s staying on in Earth until Millwall win the FA Cup.
We’ll see.

bobby stevenson 2016  COYL!!!!