Dizzojay's Dean Dreams

I don't have anything important or profound to say today, so I thought I would impart a funny little moment that happened on my drive to work this morning ...

Mr D and I were talking about our late friend, Steve last night. (Many of you may remember my previous posts about Steve who passed away last summer after a long and brave battle against cancer).

We'd found some old photos on his laptop and were having a laugh looking through them.  That train of thought must have carried through to this morning because while I was on my way to work, sitting in a queue of traffic, my mind began to wander (well, something had to, the bloody car wasn't going anywhere), and I found myself thinking about good times with Steve.

Then I felt myself start to get a little teary.  So I allowed myself a 'moment,'  then I decided; 'right, traffic's moving again.  I need to clean myself up because I'll be at work in ten minutes.'

So, I was sure that I had a little travel pack of tissues in my bag, which was sitting beside me on the passenger seat of my car, and I rummaged blindly in the bag, feeling for them, until evenutally my hand grasped something small and vaguely rectangular wrapped in crinkly sellophane.

I triumphantly withdrew apparent tissue pack from the bag, only to find it was, in fact, an individual, shrink-wrapped chicken fillet that I was taking for my lunch.

I grumbled to myself; "oh FFS!  I can't wipe my nose on a bloody chicken fillet!!"

Then the sheer absurdity of what I said hit me, and within a second I went from wistful sniffling to giggling uncontrollably.

It occurred to me that that's exactly the kind of thing that would have tickled Steve; in fact, he'd probably have gone off and written a limerick about it or something.

And I never did find any tissues - still, I guess that's what sleeves are for - right?

You may remember a couple of months ago that I paid tribute to our good friend Steve, whose 13-year battle with cancer came to an end on the 26th July.

I said back then that I would post some of Steve's writings, because they are brilliant in a totally mad kind of way and deserve to be shared, but I think I need to give a bit of context first ...

Steve was Mr D's friend first from back in the mid-nineties.  Both railwaymen, they hit it off virtally from day one.  I met Steve through a Fantasy Cricket league that he ran for his railway colleagues for many years.  For those of you not familiar with the concept of Fantasy Cricket (and Fantasy Football), these are competitions that are usually organised in newspapers or the media generally, and they involve picking a 'virtual' team of real players, and then scoring points based on your players' performance in the real world.

Steve's team was called 'Mister Slater's Parrot' (which gives you your first insight into Steve's mind, particularly as his name wasn't Mr Slater.)

By virtue of the fact that Mr D told Steve I liked Cricket, I was invited to join the league, and then a couple of years later, because I was the only one in the league who worked in an office and had daily access to a computer, Steve asked me if I would help him by typing up 'the Parrot' every week for him. He wanted to make it easier to read and more-professional looking.  That's when mine and Steve's friendship really began for real.

So, every fortnight, Steve would release an update of the league, and how we had all performed points-wise.  Of course, because - well, he's Steve - he couldn't use our real names, we all ended up with bizarre pseudonyms that had no real bearing on our real lives, or reality in general, actually!  For instance, I became MumRa, High Priestess of the Lightwater Shamen, with BazRa Diz my faithful manservant.  (Your second insight into Steve's mind!)  My home address became 'The Temple of MumRa', and yes, he did write that on the envelope when he posted our Christmas card!

So... I've rambled enough.  Below the cut you will enter the world of the utterly bloody surreal, and the utterly bloody genius. This is one of Steve's opening posts, at the beginning of a new season, introducing the members of the league. Forget reality, forget conventionality, and just enjoy ...




( Parrot )