For some reason I’ve never called Fester or his brother by the shortened form of their first names, although friends always do.
“Like me mother” Fester once remarked..
I met George Whitegoods on the same evening as I first
encountered Fester in early December 1979.
The third verse was actually written this morning, when I went
to the loo thinking about our visits to Sheffield and decided that there
was something missing and incomplete about leaving those feelings out. It also explains why I was cross with 'little brother' for quite some time.
From Facebook Archives
6 May
2023 at 20.14
Looking
for something else I found, like you do, this poem about Steve (Fester’s little
brother) which I wrote on 31 January 2014 (possibly after a conversation with George
Whitegoods).
I've read it out to Fester who
says "it doesn't go far enough".
Those who knew him might appreciate it...
STEPHEN
No more
“pints for looking at purposes”
No more
“I don’t talk like that”
No more
of us sending postcards “just to keep in touch”
No more
coffee made in a plastic jug.
We’ve finished his Tupperware boxes of coffee beans,
And the
twenty three tubes of prawn cheese spread,
And the
money he saved for his retirement
Is
refurbishing our kitchen instead.
No more visits walking on eggshells
No more biting my lip at remarks
No more mocking correction of childish impediments
When any speech was so sparse.
His nephews might be missing their uncle
But they
should be used to that by now
He never
showed any interest in them in life
No gifts,
no cards, no “how?”
No curiosity shown to us at least.
Then well after the funeral
Finally
expressing my exasperation to a friend
He
replied “But he
talked about them all the time
It was my
child he had no time for”
So why
did he extol her virtues to me?
Contrary bastard.
See also
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