Al Morton 0:03
Welcome to Episode 10 of The Al Morton Takeout. In these podcasts, I take a satirical look at news and politics. I also like to explore the cultural differences between the UK and Spain, from the perspective of a migrant Brit, with 18 years on the Iberian coast. There will be amusing anecdotes from my time as a professional guitarist and sound engineer. ‘What could be interesting about that?’ - I hear you ask. Well, there was that one time when Pink Floyd's production manager called me up, only to find himself talking to my 75 -year-old grandmother, or that jazz gig in Jersey, where Nigel Kennedy of virtuoso Four Seasons fame, patiently explained to me, as I had mistaken him for one of the crew, that he was going to be doing the soundcheck for the violin because he also played the instrument a little. More about that in upcoming episodes.
Before I go any further, I'd like to say a huge thank you to all the people at feedspot.com who added this show to their list of Top 60 political podcasts. Actually, I'm currently ranked at number 62, even lower than the Nigel Farage show, and I don't know if you can get much lower than that. But I hear they also have a top 80, so there's still hope. No, seriously - Feedspot is an excellent resource. And I've discovered all sorts of interesting podcasts through their listings, so why not give them a go and leave a review if you like this material, or even if you don't and want to remove the scourge of The Al Morton Takeout from the internet forever. So let's get started with this trouser-ripping-knee-trembling-Matt-Hancock of an episode, as we explore once again, how badly you have to fail for the prime minister to actually fire you. We all listened to Johnson on that Friday telling the world he accepted Matt Hancock's apology and that he stood four-square behind him. The matter was closed. But what was Matt Hancock apologising for? - not for lying, nor his ring-of-death around care homes, not for corruption over PPE nor general incompetence or for being a tax-swindling, adulterous cheat. No, none of that! Perish the thought. It was his infringement of social-distancing rules.
Let that sink in for a moment. After being caught on camera kissing and grabbing the bottom of his taxpayer-funded aid, Gina Coladangelo, we were told that it was not a resigning matter. When the news broke, he did at least do the decent thing and called his wife to say that he would be moving out, but would be getting on with the important job of saving lives with the vaccine rollout. What a guy! - despite the prime minister refusing to fire him and allowing the minister to resign with his 81,000 pounds salary intact. The following Monday, he was trying to take credit for firing him anyway. Clearly, a more decisive leadership was called for, the type of leadership you would expect from a true supervillain, a proper dismissal, one from which there could be no return to public office. This had me wondering what would happen if Johnson was allowed to play the part of the Persian cat-stroking Ernst Blofeld in the scene from the 1967 James Bond film. Perhaps it would be called: You Only Lie Twice. Would he still feed his political allies to the piranhas? Let's find out:
We join the prime minister deep in his secret volcano lair somewhere underneath Westminster. He has summoned his two best operatives, Matt Hancock and Priti Patel after unexpectedly losing the Amersham and Chesham by-election, not to mention their failure to bring football home for the Tory party. For those of you too young to remember the film, let me set the scene: We are introduced to the destructive power of the piranha by one of Johnson's henchmen, who throws a leg of beef into the pond from a precarious arched bridge. The same bridge must be crossed in order to report to the evil dictator.
Blofeld 4:46
You can probably see that my piranhas are pretty damned hungry. No taxpayer-subsidised lunches for these little blighters, not until later on. Hey Mattie, did you know that they can strip a publicly-owned corporate body to the bone in under 30 days? I have to say that Sushi Sunak has got them really well trained. Now look, I understand that the leader of the opposition was in your office yesterday. Good grief man, if that was the case, why is he still able to bang on about me being the cause of the Johnson variant?
Mattie Hancock 5:21
Don't worry Prime Minister, Starmer is absolutely finished. I give you my word.
Patel 5:27
Yes, it was in all of them newspapers.
Blofeld 5:30
Absolute balderdash! Stamer is still active. The only thing I see in all those newspapers is your aide's ample bottom being fondled by you, Mattie. Now do tell. Did you dispose of Starmer or not? Don't say you let him go.
Patel 5:47
I gave the elf secretary the strictest orders to eliminate him and privatise the NHS.
Blofeld 5:53
And did he?
Patel 5:55
No Prime Minister, he didn't. And he let Italy beat England at the footie!
Blofeld 6:00
Whatever next! Thanks to you two, I've had to cancel the reception for the England team at number 10. I can't be having that bunch of losers around making the place untidy and scoffing all our sausage rolls.
Patel 6:14
I know Prime Minister, but you see, I don't think they want to come over anyway, somethin’ about tellin’ the fans it was okay to boo when they was takin’ the knee. I told them we don't do gesture politics. Anyway, they should focus on their footballin’ instead of tellin’ their superiors how to run the country.
Blofeld 6:34
Oh, tell me about it. Tory football supporters are so bloody thick. They boo anything. Believe it or not, they've even booed me from time to time. Once I was trying to level up an NHS hospital with one of Lord Bamford’s JCBs when they started throwing things. Have you ever driven one of those by the way? They're bloody brilliant. Anyway, that's enough chit chat. Just before you go, I just wanted to remind you that the organisation does not tolerate failure. Now go away and think about what you've done. Mattie, I want you to stay behind and feed the fish. Now off you go. Not you Romeo, obviously.
Al Morton 7:19
The scene ends as Patel takes her leave and hurriedly crosses the arch bridge over Johnson's piranha pond. A nervous Matt Hancock, suspecting that something is afoot, decides to make his way to cross the bridge of freedom. The camera pans to Johnson's foot on a pedal. He presses it firmly, probably the most decisive thing he has ever done in his entire life. The bridge collapses and Hancock falls into the water to be eaten alive by piranhas. Suddenly, Priti Patel stops in her tracks. She turns and looks back at Matt Hancock's fate, smirking.
And that is how you fire a cabinet minister in the manner of a Bond supervillain. And I do think that piranhas get a bit of a bad press as it is only the red-bellied species that are known to attack humans, and I'm not talking about the kind you find loafing about on the beaches of Benidorm. Even in those rare cases, it is generally just a nip or a bite. But in true Johnson and Bond tradition, we're not going to let a few facts get in the way of a good yarn are we?
Around this time, I generally like to share a few comments from that great well of human truth: Twitter.
I would say that social media as a whole has been quite angry in the last few weeks. When isn't it? But most of the rage seems to be divided between the overt racism towards England's footballers and Prime Minister Johnson's Freedom Day, where the virus is going to be allowed to let rip in the community, unhindered by any legally enforceable mask-wearing or social- distancing. There have been of course those pictures of football hooligans, one with his trousers down and a lit flare between the cheeks of his buttocks. And one particular drunk, who was having such a good time, he stripped off, climbed on a car and started waving his appendage around. It was really only visible on close-ups, but his girlfriend must be incredibly proud. So given the grave state of the nation, what have they been chatting about on Twitter?
[Whispers] I may have to cut this section out. Another far-right bad boy of Twitter is Mr Nigel Farage, who triggered wild speculation after he tweeted:
Nigel 10:09
At 5pm today, I will be making an announcement about a big career change. Watch this space.
Al Morton 10:18
And as ever, the real humour is in the replies, although I've had to tone them down a bit. Linda Williams thought he may now be a fruit picker, as opposed to just a plain fruitcake. Well, I'm told that Mr Kipling does make exceedingly good fruitcakes. Sloth, underscore Bristol thought that his tweets may have contained a typo, and instead of a career he meant carer. Hopefully, the new one will be able to keep a better eye on him. Yvonne Burnett suggested it could be Michael Gove, his new wife. Oh, my eyes! Mark Brack simply says, ‘Big Mac large fries and a vanilla milkshake please.’ Would that be to go? 99 red baboons said, ‘Let's hope it's something really dangerous and secret, so this will be the last tweet’. Bill Baits suggested it could be washing balls at Mar-a-Lago. Nigel Waugh reminded us that there is a post going as Brexit Benefits Advisor. I imagine it involves chasing unicorns on sunlit uplands, but I hear the pay is quite good. Paul Wall 1970 posted what appears to be a salacious meme from an outfit called Ham Station. I couldn't possibly describe it, except to say that there is a character who looks a little like our Nige, sat on a pink satin bed with his legs apart wearing shorts. There is an 0908 telephone number underneath which says: Call me, Naughty Nigel for a hard, hard, hard Brexit. Oh lordy!
Brexit News 11:55
This is not the BBC, Best Before Brexit Corporation. We interrupt this podcast to bring you breaking news. GB News the new right-wing TV channel, launched by Andrew Neil of The Times fame, recorded zero viewers after subscribers boycotted the channel for allegedly not being sufficiently racist. The channel claims to pride itself on being a platform for free speech. But when one of its guests took the knee in solidarity with the England football team, the controllers decided that free speech was okay, but some varieties of free speech were more equal than others. Presenter Guto Harri broke their rules by expressing his free speech and something about 'four legs good, two legs bad,' said guest spokesman Mr George Orwell who had come back from the dead to haunt them all. [Ghostly Laughter]
Al Morton 12:56
Of course, one of the most important aspects of our newfound freedom from the scurrilous EU is that we're now free to make trade agreements with our international neighbours, such as the US and Australia. These continents are only a couple of dozen light-years away from the EU mainland, relatively speaking. The trouble is, nobody seems to have let a certain call centre know that Britain is now open for business. And that includes space. I mean, you can't get more spacey than Richard Branson of Virgin Galactic. And those trains that never seem to arrive on time. But he will sell you a first-class ticket to outer space, provided you've got a million or so lying around in your bank account. Whilst I may have signed a petition to prevent him from returning to Earth after his last Extra-Terrestrial sortie, I hear they're talking about nothing else down at the food bank.
He is in fact a national treasure. But perhaps the sort that should be left at the ... [Radio static] [Call centre phone ringing...]
PC Worlds 14:14
PC Worlds Technical Support. Roger speaking. How may I help you today?
NASA 14:19
Hi, I'm Fred green Chief Scientist at JPL in Pasadena, California. I'm certainly hoping that you can help me, sir. We're having a spot of bother. With one of these here motherboards installed on a robotic device.
PC Worlds 14:34
Could you give me the model and serial part number, please?
NASA 14:36
Roger that. It's I for Ingenuity, XP L for lemon, 137 Z, m-a-r- s forward-slash lander z 63.
PC Worlds 14:51
Thank you. Bear with me a moment. I just need to verify that.
NASA 14:57
[Music on hold...] Jeez Arnie, can you believe that? They've put me on hold!
PC Worlds 15:06
Nope, I'm sorry. We don't recognise that part member. What date and which store was it purchased in? Also, what appears to be the problem?
NASA 15:15
Well, I was rather hoping that you would be able to tell me that sir. It was purchased online from the website. And the problem is we're having trouble downloading and processing the images from the unit.
PC Worlds 15:28
Okay, before we go any further, have you tried switching it off and on again?
NASA 15:33
Shucks, man. I'm guessing that's why they pay you guys the big bucks. Of course, we have. Trouble is, it takes so darn long as we have to do it remotely.
PC Worlds 15:44
What? Why do you have to do that?
NASA 15:47
Well, it is about 33.9 million miles away.
PC Worlds 15:51
You can't be serious.
NASA 15:53
Yes, siree. The ingenuity helicopter is currently located on Mars. It takes quite a while to get the signal to it.
PC Worlds 16:01
Honestly, I'm going to stop you right there. I think this is some kind of a wind-up. We have never provided components to NASA. And as far as I know, most of our stuff is manufactured in China. So it's highly unlikely there will be any UK parts in a US built remote control robot on Mars.
NASA 15:53
Well, y'all say that but your Boris Johnson started selling stuff to NASA years ago. Something about Brexit. Look, Ingenuity has one UK part and not to put too fine a point on it. It ain't cutting it. At the risk of sounding like you're Monty Python's, it's deader than a dead thing. It shuffled off this mortal coil. Shit man, it's f*****g snuffed it! I would add that you guys built the mirrors for the Hubble Space Telescope. Am I right?
PC Worlds 16:28
No. Not PC worlds. I think that was the BA systems on the next trading block.
NASA 16:58
Yipee kai yay! That was one doozy of a cockup. We had to fix that mother after deployment. And secondly, have you tried getting anything out of Silicon Valley lately? What with the pandemic and all?
PC Worlds 17:13
I'm very sorry, but on this occasion, I don't think we're going to be able to help. It's a matter that should be handled at a local level.
NASA 15:57
Y'all can't be serious, man. This is PC Worlds, right? For your information. There is a world that just happens to be called Mars, you know, like the fourth Rock from the Sun. And I'm calling because - Hello, Houston - we got us a problem; specific-ally with one of you're limey numbnuts components.
PC Worlds 17:42
May I remind you that this conversation is being recorded.
NASA 15:57
Goddammit, well hope you're gonna have more luck downloading and then playing it back than we're having with one of your goddamn motherboards. [Patriotic USA NASA music...]
I'll be having a word with Biden about this. Y'all can be sure of that and good luck with your US trade agreements.
Al Morton 18:05
I think he might have mentioned Brexit. But we may have got away with it. [Salsa music]
You are listening to Episode 10 of The Al Morton Takeout. You join us as we celebrate UK Freedom Day in which we cheer on the abandonment of masks and social distance rules. So that a deadly mutant virus can circulate amongst us. [Crowds cheering and party poppers]
Spare a thought for the British Prime Minister and the health secretary, both of whom will be forced to celebrate this day in self-isolation. As the UK ranks number two for the most new infections in the world. At last, we can truly claim to be world-beating. Of course, Johnson will be isolating in Chequers and if I'm honest, it is his staff that I feel sorry for.
"Oh, Al, you're such a ‘woke-tard’! We can't go on being locked-down forever."
This is something I hear quite a bit. But take a look at New Zealand; another island nation with a not dissimilar population. I believe they haven't had any new infections for over three months. And I can't help wondering; what is it that they're doing so right that the UK is doing so wrong? Could it be that they've actually taken back control of their borders.
One of the most infuriating aspects of this 'pingdemic' as it has been named (after the world's most expensive app, woke up and started pinging just about everybody). Is that once again, NHS staff are being asked to sacrifice themselves and continue to work, even if the app has pinged them to isolate. Wow, that really makes a lot of sense. But having run down staff levels to such an extent, the chaos will help with parcelling out the NHS for privatization. Staff are once again being asked to put their lives and their patients at risk. So that rich Tory donors can make yet more money when the cake is finally sold off. [Guitar playing Malats Serenata Española].
I think I need to change the mood a little bit. So around about this time, one of the things that I like to talk about are the differences between British and Spanish culture. For most of my life, I played the guitar. It was not long after arriving on these shores, that I had a few gigs, which included a midweek residency in a local steak bar. I know a vegetarian playing in a steak bar. Look, don't judge me. During the long summer months, I would play outside in the street. I think the idea was to attract customers, although I started to become suspicious when the bar changed the locks. No, they didn't do that really. [Laughs] Anyway, I digress. At the entrance to this fine establishment, there was a life-sized plastic cow because, unlike Brits, many Spaniards like to be reminded of where their meat actually comes from. I always felt a little uncomfortable next to this magnificent plastic beast. But after a while, I got used to it. People would wander past steadfastly ignoring me and my brilliant guitar work, but they would always notice that damned cow. Often young, attractive, women would look over my way and then suddenly notice the enormous bovine prop and then slap it on the arse as they walked past to buy an ice cream next door. I was starting to feel irrelevant, and perhaps a little unloved. During the cooler winter months, I would play inside. I've already talked about the time the luthier, Joan Cashimira, who made my guitar came to hear me play at Vacas. If you're interested in hearing the gory details. It is at the end of Episode 3 of these podcasts recorded June 20 2020. The title is The Cult of Celebrity. To cut a long story short, at the end of the performance he expressed his disappointment with the sound of his guitar in the hands of - well - me, really. Oh dear. This had me working harder than ever to improve my technique and engage with my audience.
And that reminds me of one of the main cultural differences between Spaniards and us Brits. If you ask them, for example, what do they think of your guitar playing? More often than not, they will tell you exactly what they think of it. At first, it's a little hard to get used to, because British people are always a little bit worried. They like to be polite. They don't want to cause offence. And Spanish just think well, you asked a question, I'm going to give you an answer. Sometimes you don't want to hear it. There is a kind of refreshing honesty about it, though, isn't there?
I'll give you another example. A while ago I played (this is going way back). I played at the inauguration of a hairdressing salon up in the valleys. Not talking about the Welsh valleys. The Jalon Valley. And I don't know if you know this, but hairdressing is quite big business in Spain. It's very important to get your hair fixed regularly. And she'd opened this new salon in the high street and held a little street party. And again, it seemed to go Okay, it was quite low key. And at the end of the evening, she came over and thanked me for playing. I asked her, what did you think of the music? And she said, 'Hmmm it was quite tranquil, wasn't it'. I think she was expecting some kind of flamenco troupe or something. But, you know, if you ask somebody in Spain, how are they or what did you think of this? They tell you and I quite liked that really.
That was a nice little diversion, wasn't it? although it had nothing to do with the story I'm trying to tell you. After Joan's disappointment, I had a new mission. And that was to engage more with my audience. Whilst the term 'audience' may be putting it a little bit strong. The patrons of said establishment leaned towards a more motley collection of misfits: lonely and bored widows, or wealthy, corpulent retirees that lacked the ability or interest in cooking.
[Rule Brittania underscored music].
There would be no point in trying to reach out to this crowd. But I held out hope for two very British little old ladies that would totter in every day around the same time. One of them wore a blue hat, which never seemed to leave her head and I used to wonder if she slept in it or wore it in the shower. They would always sit at a table right in front of me and would order a pot of tea with cake. I would smile benignly in their direction, and then play Tea for Two. I did this every day for weeks on end, and as my frustration built at the lack of engagement, so did their disinterest. They would chatter and laugh loudly whilst occupying the best seats in the House. And then when the tea had been downed, and the last crumbs of cake were snaffled up, they would get up and walk straight out without even looking back. Sometimes I would repeat the tune in different styles, such as in the style of Paco de Lucia or BB King, and even one time, AC DC. - Nothing. Then one fine day, the restaurant closed and I was back on the street. Only this time without a giant plastic cow for company. I still see Blue Hat and her friend in the streets of my local town. These days, she has a walking frame, whilst her friend has a trolley which she holds on to in order to steady her passage through the mean streets of our Hispanic seaside fishing village. I sometimes smile and wave. But to this day - nothing - not a word - not a Dicky bird - 'nada'! And I'm left with the sinking realization that there's only one thing worse than being criticized by the artisan who made your custom guitar. And that is: being completely and utterly ignored by the Blue-Hatted mistress of the English tea ceremony.
As ever, I'm going to leave the last word on cultural differences to my great friend Mike Britton. It was in response to a Facebook post in which a British pie manufacturer had posted an image of one of their pies with rather green looking chips and mushy peas.
To quote:
Mike Britton 27:43
British cuisine, with its lack of sauces and flavours, is truly disgusting. I'm so grateful that travel educated me to despise Saxonic buckets of goo!
Al Morton 27:54
Well, Mr Britton. I've heard that Mr Kipling bakes exceedingly good buckets of Saxonic goo? No, really. You've got to admit he's got a bit of a point. Oh, please. In my case, give me a paella. I'm so Spanish. It is pronounced: payayahhh by the way. No really - ask my wife - she's always telling me.
Right, it's time for another music business anecdote. At the start. I mentioned how Pink Floyd's production manager ended up being interrogated by my grandmother. But before we move on to this, I wanted to remind listeners that full details of the show, including music credits, can be found on my website: www.almorton.com. If you haven't swung by yet, why not pay us a visit. The site is completely free of commercials, as I hope are these podcasts. I would especially love it if you could join the mailing list so that I can keep you apprised of new recordings and articles.
After years of playing the European music circuit, it dawned on me that I would have more chance of becoming a pop star. If I returned to the UK. The plan was to set up a concert sound company whilst I waited for the British record industry to come to its senses and sign my band for millions. I know it was a bit naive, and also my band at the time were a bit crap. Setting up a sound company involves a lot of wheeling and dealing with other organizations including Britannia Row Productions, who at the time, were connected to Pink Floyd. They may still be I don't know, it was quite a long time ago. In setting up my own business, I bought part of a shipping container of JBL loudspeakers and high-frequency compression drivers. We call them compression drivers, but they're more like the tweeters on your domestic hifi, only massively bigger. At the time, there was a world shortage of bauxite; a material used to make the magnets of these speakers, and I unknowingly bought the last batch of ‘the precious’ from a US dealer friend. Pink Floyd were about to start a new European Tour, which included dates at Wembley, but they needed more of these vital components. The importer gave their production manager my telephone number and told him that maybe I could make up the shortfall. I should preface this story by saying that my gran didn't have any idea about who or what Pink Floyd were. And I may have taken some artistic liberties with the telling. By the way, my grandma didn't really sound like that. And I hope she forgives me because it's not intended to be taken seriously. But at the time, well, Pink Floyd wanted to speak to me. Just WOW! I could think of nothing more significant for a young sound engineer, hoping to hit the big time. Although my dreams were about to hit the buffers.
[Old fashioned BBC style orchestral music playing in the background]
[Phone ringing]
Gran 31:11
Bishopston 43210, Morton residence, Elizabeth speaking? - Oh, no, I'm sorry. He's not available right now. Maybe - Maybe I could help. - I beg your pardon? What on earth are you talking about? Compression whats? Are you something to do with the plumber? I've already called him twice about the leaking downstairs lavatory. You're not Ballcock's assistant, are you?
Al Morton 31:38
At this point, I should explain that my grandmother had a habit of giving everyone a memorable name. Ballcock, as he became known, was a regular visitor to the Victorian plumbing installations of our home, which coincidentally served as the temporary headquarters of my sound engineering Empire. He would frequently bill for changing the float valve in the cast iron lavatory systems.
Ballcock the plumber 32:07 [Strong West Country accent]
“I've got some bad news misses Morton. Your ballcock's got a hole in it; a gurt biggun by the looks of it, we get quite a lot of this in his arial.”
He was a bit of a wide-boy to be honest. And this repair, more often than not, would involve plugging the hole in the float with a piece of chewing gum.
Al Morton 32:29
Anyway, back to the stunning climax of this apocryphal tale. I was in the basement trying to put out a small fire in an amplifier that I'd unsuccessfully repaired. I was catching snippets of a rather worrying conversation taking place in the hallway above.
[Sparking and short-circuit noises]
Oh no!!!
[Electrical fire and fire extinguisher sounds]
Gran 32:53
Now look, Mr Floyd or whatever your name is. I'm terribly sorry. But he cannot come to the phone right now. What do you mean, why not? I've just told you. No - I'm sorry. But if you're not Ballcock's assistant. I don't see how my grandson is going to be of any use. Besides, I've already explained he's indisposed. He's about to have his 'din-dins'.
Al Morton 33:17
At this point. I run up the stairs and stick my head around the door whilst trying to waft smoke away from the smoke detector. I spot my grandmother hanging up the phone. Everything alright Gran? Who was that you were talking to?
Gran 33:32
He was somebody called Mike Lowe. But I thought it was Mr Floyd from the plumber's merchants calling about a pink replacement ballcock.
[Fire alarm goes off, phones ringing plus underscored Pink Floyd style music]
Sobbing - no - no!
Al Morton 34:00
So that's it from me for now. I hope you enjoyed this episode and that you can find time to subscribe for more. As always, you can read further details, including a full transcript and credits on https://almorton.com/takeout.
Credits
The podcast theme music was Serenata Hispañiola by Joaquim Malats and incidental Spanish guitar work, including Tea for Two by Vincent Youmans were played by myself on 'that' Joan Cashimira guitar. The Al Morton Takeout was written and performed by - you guessed it, Al Morton. *A special thanks to my great friend Mike Britton, and my editor in chief Heather Margaret. [* Morris music by The Hammersmith Morris Dancers].
I would like to thank the MundoMar marine centre in Benidorm for the loan of their piranha tank, and my next-door neighbours for their fluffy Persian cat, Mr Bigglesworth the second. Say hello to the nice people in podcast land.
[cat yowels]
Okay, have it your own way. What was that? You wanted to see Gavin Williamson fed to the piranhas too!
James Bond theme music was provided by No Copyrights Free Sounds. The orchestral music for the virgin segment and PC World call centre was Also Sprach Zarathustra by Richard Strauss. Music on hold was provided by incompetech.com and the NASA theme song was by Yanny. The salsa music including; La Calle está Caliente, by Asbache FT. Pacheco, with Cumbia Del Gato, remixed by Kolectivo. Rule Britannia by Thomas Arne incidental music at the start of the 'Pink Floyd rang my Gran' story was Barwick Green by Arthur Wood. Mr Ballcock's Sneaky Snitch music was provided by Mr. Snooze. The intro to 'Money' by Roger Waters and Pink Floyd was included under ‘fair use’ with the copyright remaining with the artists. This podcast is presented free of commercial gain. And if you're a Pink Floyd fan, I hope I didn't ruin it for you. So, until next time, bye.
Welcome to Episode 10 of The Al Morton Takeout. In these podcasts, I take a satirical look at news and politics. I also like to explore the cultural differences between the UK and Spain, from the perspective of a migrant Brit, with 18 years on the Iberian coast. There will be amusing anecdotes from my time as a professional guitarist and sound engineer. ‘What could be interesting about that?’ - I hear you ask. Well, there was that one time when Pink Floyd's production manager called me up, only to find himself talking to my 75 -year-old grandmother, or that jazz gig in Jersey, where Nigel Kennedy of virtuoso Four Seasons fame, patiently explained to me, as I had mistaken him for one of the crew, that he was going to be doing the soundcheck for the violin because he also played the instrument a little. More about that in upcoming episodes.
Before I go any further, I'd like to say a huge thank you to all the people at feedspot.com who added this show to their list of Top 60 political podcasts. Actually, I'm currently ranked at number 62, even lower than the Nigel Farage show, and I don't know if you can get much lower than that. But I hear they also have a top 80, so there's still hope. No, seriously - Feedspot is an excellent resource. And I've discovered all sorts of interesting podcasts through their listings, so why not give them a go and leave a review if you like this material, or even if you don't and want to remove the scourge of The Al Morton Takeout from the internet forever. So let's get started with this trouser-ripping-knee-trembling-Matt-Hancock of an episode, as we explore once again, how badly you have to fail for the prime minister to actually fire you. We all listened to Johnson on that Friday telling the world he accepted Matt Hancock's apology and that he stood four-square behind him. The matter was closed. But what was Matt Hancock apologising for? - not for lying, nor his ring-of-death around care homes, not for corruption over PPE nor general incompetence or for being a tax-swindling, adulterous cheat. No, none of that! Perish the thought. It was his infringement of social-distancing rules.
Let that sink in for a moment. After being caught on camera kissing and grabbing the bottom of his taxpayer-funded aid, Gina Coladangelo, we were told that it was not a resigning matter. When the news broke, he did at least do the decent thing and called his wife to say that he would be moving out, but would be getting on with the important job of saving lives with the vaccine rollout. What a guy! - despite the prime minister refusing to fire him and allowing the minister to resign with his 81,000 pounds salary intact. The following Monday, he was trying to take credit for firing him anyway. Clearly, a more decisive leadership was called for, the type of leadership you would expect from a true supervillain, a proper dismissal, one from which there could be no return to public office. This had me wondering what would happen if Johnson was allowed to play the part of the Persian cat-stroking Ernst Blofeld in the scene from the 1967 James Bond film. Perhaps it would be called: You Only Lie Twice. Would he still feed his political allies to the piranhas? Let's find out:
We join the prime minister deep in his secret volcano lair somewhere underneath Westminster. He has summoned his two best operatives, Matt Hancock and Priti Patel after unexpectedly losing the Amersham and Chesham by-election, not to mention their failure to bring football home for the Tory party. For those of you too young to remember the film, let me set the scene: We are introduced to the destructive power of the piranha by one of Johnson's henchmen, who throws a leg of beef into the pond from a precarious arched bridge. The same bridge must be crossed in order to report to the evil dictator.
Blofeld 4:46
You can probably see that my piranhas are pretty damned hungry. No taxpayer-subsidised lunches for these little blighters, not until later on. Hey Mattie, did you know that they can strip a publicly-owned corporate body to the bone in under 30 days? I have to say that Sushi Sunak has got them really well trained. Now look, I understand that the leader of the opposition was in your office yesterday. Good grief man, if that was the case, why is he still able to bang on about me being the cause of the Johnson variant?
Mattie Hancock 5:21
Don't worry Prime Minister, Starmer is absolutely finished. I give you my word.
Patel 5:27
Yes, it was in all of them newspapers.
Blofeld 5:30
Absolute balderdash! Stamer is still active. The only thing I see in all those newspapers is your aide's ample bottom being fondled by you, Mattie. Now do tell. Did you dispose of Starmer or not? Don't say you let him go.
Patel 5:47
I gave the elf secretary the strictest orders to eliminate him and privatise the NHS.
Blofeld 5:53
And did he?
Patel 5:55
No Prime Minister, he didn't. And he let Italy beat England at the footie!
Blofeld 6:00
Whatever next! Thanks to you two, I've had to cancel the reception for the England team at number 10. I can't be having that bunch of losers around making the place untidy and scoffing all our sausage rolls.
Patel 6:14
I know Prime Minister, but you see, I don't think they want to come over anyway, somethin’ about tellin’ the fans it was okay to boo when they was takin’ the knee. I told them we don't do gesture politics. Anyway, they should focus on their footballin’ instead of tellin’ their superiors how to run the country.
Blofeld 6:34
Oh, tell me about it. Tory football supporters are so bloody thick. They boo anything. Believe it or not, they've even booed me from time to time. Once I was trying to level up an NHS hospital with one of Lord Bamford’s JCBs when they started throwing things. Have you ever driven one of those by the way? They're bloody brilliant. Anyway, that's enough chit chat. Just before you go, I just wanted to remind you that the organisation does not tolerate failure. Now go away and think about what you've done. Mattie, I want you to stay behind and feed the fish. Now off you go. Not you Romeo, obviously.
Al Morton 7:19
The scene ends as Patel takes her leave and hurriedly crosses the arch bridge over Johnson's piranha pond. A nervous Matt Hancock, suspecting that something is afoot, decides to make his way to cross the bridge of freedom. The camera pans to Johnson's foot on a pedal. He presses it firmly, probably the most decisive thing he has ever done in his entire life. The bridge collapses and Hancock falls into the water to be eaten alive by piranhas. Suddenly, Priti Patel stops in her tracks. She turns and looks back at Matt Hancock's fate, smirking.
And that is how you fire a cabinet minister in the manner of a Bond supervillain. And I do think that piranhas get a bit of a bad press as it is only the red-bellied species that are known to attack humans, and I'm not talking about the kind you find loafing about on the beaches of Benidorm. Even in those rare cases, it is generally just a nip or a bite. But in true Johnson and Bond tradition, we're not going to let a few facts get in the way of a good yarn are we?
Around this time, I generally like to share a few comments from that great well of human truth: Twitter.
I would say that social media as a whole has been quite angry in the last few weeks. When isn't it? But most of the rage seems to be divided between the overt racism towards England's footballers and Prime Minister Johnson's Freedom Day, where the virus is going to be allowed to let rip in the community, unhindered by any legally enforceable mask-wearing or social- distancing. There have been of course those pictures of football hooligans, one with his trousers down and a lit flare between the cheeks of his buttocks. And one particular drunk, who was having such a good time, he stripped off, climbed on a car and started waving his appendage around. It was really only visible on close-ups, but his girlfriend must be incredibly proud. So given the grave state of the nation, what have they been chatting about on Twitter?
[Whispers] I may have to cut this section out. Another far-right bad boy of Twitter is Mr Nigel Farage, who triggered wild speculation after he tweeted:
Nigel 10:09
At 5pm today, I will be making an announcement about a big career change. Watch this space.
Al Morton 10:18
And as ever, the real humour is in the replies, although I've had to tone them down a bit. Linda Williams thought he may now be a fruit picker, as opposed to just a plain fruitcake. Well, I'm told that Mr Kipling does make exceedingly good fruitcakes. Sloth, underscore Bristol thought that his tweets may have contained a typo, and instead of a career he meant carer. Hopefully, the new one will be able to keep a better eye on him. Yvonne Burnett suggested it could be Michael Gove, his new wife. Oh, my eyes! Mark Brack simply says, ‘Big Mac large fries and a vanilla milkshake please.’ Would that be to go? 99 red baboons said, ‘Let's hope it's something really dangerous and secret, so this will be the last tweet’. Bill Baits suggested it could be washing balls at Mar-a-Lago. Nigel Waugh reminded us that there is a post going as Brexit Benefits Advisor. I imagine it involves chasing unicorns on sunlit uplands, but I hear the pay is quite good. Paul Wall 1970 posted what appears to be a salacious meme from an outfit called Ham Station. I couldn't possibly describe it, except to say that there is a character who looks a little like our Nige, sat on a pink satin bed with his legs apart wearing shorts. There is an 0908 telephone number underneath which says: Call me, Naughty Nigel for a hard, hard, hard Brexit. Oh lordy!
Brexit News 11:55
This is not the BBC, Best Before Brexit Corporation. We interrupt this podcast to bring you breaking news. GB News the new right-wing TV channel, launched by Andrew Neil of The Times fame, recorded zero viewers after subscribers boycotted the channel for allegedly not being sufficiently racist. The channel claims to pride itself on being a platform for free speech. But when one of its guests took the knee in solidarity with the England football team, the controllers decided that free speech was okay, but some varieties of free speech were more equal than others. Presenter Guto Harri broke their rules by expressing his free speech and something about 'four legs good, two legs bad,' said guest spokesman Mr George Orwell who had come back from the dead to haunt them all. [Ghostly Laughter]
Al Morton 12:56
Of course, one of the most important aspects of our newfound freedom from the scurrilous EU is that we're now free to make trade agreements with our international neighbours, such as the US and Australia. These continents are only a couple of dozen light-years away from the EU mainland, relatively speaking. The trouble is, nobody seems to have let a certain call centre know that Britain is now open for business. And that includes space. I mean, you can't get more spacey than Richard Branson of Virgin Galactic. And those trains that never seem to arrive on time. But he will sell you a first-class ticket to outer space, provided you've got a million or so lying around in your bank account. Whilst I may have signed a petition to prevent him from returning to Earth after his last Extra-Terrestrial sortie, I hear they're talking about nothing else down at the food bank.
He is in fact a national treasure. But perhaps the sort that should be left at the ... [Radio static] [Call centre phone ringing...]
PC Worlds 14:14
PC Worlds Technical Support. Roger speaking. How may I help you today?
NASA 14:19
Hi, I'm Fred green Chief Scientist at JPL in Pasadena, California. I'm certainly hoping that you can help me, sir. We're having a spot of bother. With one of these here motherboards installed on a robotic device.
PC Worlds 14:34
Could you give me the model and serial part number, please?
NASA 14:36
Roger that. It's I for Ingenuity, XP L for lemon, 137 Z, m-a-r- s forward-slash lander z 63.
PC Worlds 14:51
Thank you. Bear with me a moment. I just need to verify that.
NASA 14:57
[Music on hold...] Jeez Arnie, can you believe that? They've put me on hold!
PC Worlds 15:06
Nope, I'm sorry. We don't recognise that part member. What date and which store was it purchased in? Also, what appears to be the problem?
NASA 15:15
Well, I was rather hoping that you would be able to tell me that sir. It was purchased online from the website. And the problem is we're having trouble downloading and processing the images from the unit.
PC Worlds 15:28
Okay, before we go any further, have you tried switching it off and on again?
NASA 15:33
Shucks, man. I'm guessing that's why they pay you guys the big bucks. Of course, we have. Trouble is, it takes so darn long as we have to do it remotely.
PC Worlds 15:44
What? Why do you have to do that?
NASA 15:47
Well, it is about 33.9 million miles away.
PC Worlds 15:51
You can't be serious.
NASA 15:53
Yes, siree. The ingenuity helicopter is currently located on Mars. It takes quite a while to get the signal to it.
PC Worlds 16:01
Honestly, I'm going to stop you right there. I think this is some kind of a wind-up. We have never provided components to NASA. And as far as I know, most of our stuff is manufactured in China. So it's highly unlikely there will be any UK parts in a US built remote control robot on Mars.
NASA 15:53
Well, y'all say that but your Boris Johnson started selling stuff to NASA years ago. Something about Brexit. Look, Ingenuity has one UK part and not to put too fine a point on it. It ain't cutting it. At the risk of sounding like you're Monty Python's, it's deader than a dead thing. It shuffled off this mortal coil. Shit man, it's f*****g snuffed it! I would add that you guys built the mirrors for the Hubble Space Telescope. Am I right?
PC Worlds 16:28
No. Not PC worlds. I think that was the BA systems on the next trading block.
NASA 16:58
Yipee kai yay! That was one doozy of a cockup. We had to fix that mother after deployment. And secondly, have you tried getting anything out of Silicon Valley lately? What with the pandemic and all?
PC Worlds 17:13
I'm very sorry, but on this occasion, I don't think we're going to be able to help. It's a matter that should be handled at a local level.
NASA 15:57
Y'all can't be serious, man. This is PC Worlds, right? For your information. There is a world that just happens to be called Mars, you know, like the fourth Rock from the Sun. And I'm calling because - Hello, Houston - we got us a problem; specific-ally with one of you're limey numbnuts components.
PC Worlds 17:42
May I remind you that this conversation is being recorded.
NASA 15:57
Goddammit, well hope you're gonna have more luck downloading and then playing it back than we're having with one of your goddamn motherboards. [Patriotic USA NASA music...]
I'll be having a word with Biden about this. Y'all can be sure of that and good luck with your US trade agreements.
Al Morton 18:05
I think he might have mentioned Brexit. But we may have got away with it. [Salsa music]
You are listening to Episode 10 of The Al Morton Takeout. You join us as we celebrate UK Freedom Day in which we cheer on the abandonment of masks and social distance rules. So that a deadly mutant virus can circulate amongst us. [Crowds cheering and party poppers]
Spare a thought for the British Prime Minister and the health secretary, both of whom will be forced to celebrate this day in self-isolation. As the UK ranks number two for the most new infections in the world. At last, we can truly claim to be world-beating. Of course, Johnson will be isolating in Chequers and if I'm honest, it is his staff that I feel sorry for.
"Oh, Al, you're such a ‘woke-tard’! We can't go on being locked-down forever."
This is something I hear quite a bit. But take a look at New Zealand; another island nation with a not dissimilar population. I believe they haven't had any new infections for over three months. And I can't help wondering; what is it that they're doing so right that the UK is doing so wrong? Could it be that they've actually taken back control of their borders.
One of the most infuriating aspects of this 'pingdemic' as it has been named (after the world's most expensive app, woke up and started pinging just about everybody). Is that once again, NHS staff are being asked to sacrifice themselves and continue to work, even if the app has pinged them to isolate. Wow, that really makes a lot of sense. But having run down staff levels to such an extent, the chaos will help with parcelling out the NHS for privatization. Staff are once again being asked to put their lives and their patients at risk. So that rich Tory donors can make yet more money when the cake is finally sold off. [Guitar playing Malats Serenata Española].
I think I need to change the mood a little bit. So around about this time, one of the things that I like to talk about are the differences between British and Spanish culture. For most of my life, I played the guitar. It was not long after arriving on these shores, that I had a few gigs, which included a midweek residency in a local steak bar. I know a vegetarian playing in a steak bar. Look, don't judge me. During the long summer months, I would play outside in the street. I think the idea was to attract customers, although I started to become suspicious when the bar changed the locks. No, they didn't do that really. [Laughs] Anyway, I digress. At the entrance to this fine establishment, there was a life-sized plastic cow because, unlike Brits, many Spaniards like to be reminded of where their meat actually comes from. I always felt a little uncomfortable next to this magnificent plastic beast. But after a while, I got used to it. People would wander past steadfastly ignoring me and my brilliant guitar work, but they would always notice that damned cow. Often young, attractive, women would look over my way and then suddenly notice the enormous bovine prop and then slap it on the arse as they walked past to buy an ice cream next door. I was starting to feel irrelevant, and perhaps a little unloved. During the cooler winter months, I would play inside. I've already talked about the time the luthier, Joan Cashimira, who made my guitar came to hear me play at Vacas. If you're interested in hearing the gory details. It is at the end of Episode 3 of these podcasts recorded June 20 2020. The title is The Cult of Celebrity. To cut a long story short, at the end of the performance he expressed his disappointment with the sound of his guitar in the hands of - well - me, really. Oh dear. This had me working harder than ever to improve my technique and engage with my audience.
And that reminds me of one of the main cultural differences between Spaniards and us Brits. If you ask them, for example, what do they think of your guitar playing? More often than not, they will tell you exactly what they think of it. At first, it's a little hard to get used to, because British people are always a little bit worried. They like to be polite. They don't want to cause offence. And Spanish just think well, you asked a question, I'm going to give you an answer. Sometimes you don't want to hear it. There is a kind of refreshing honesty about it, though, isn't there?
I'll give you another example. A while ago I played (this is going way back). I played at the inauguration of a hairdressing salon up in the valleys. Not talking about the Welsh valleys. The Jalon Valley. And I don't know if you know this, but hairdressing is quite big business in Spain. It's very important to get your hair fixed regularly. And she'd opened this new salon in the high street and held a little street party. And again, it seemed to go Okay, it was quite low key. And at the end of the evening, she came over and thanked me for playing. I asked her, what did you think of the music? And she said, 'Hmmm it was quite tranquil, wasn't it'. I think she was expecting some kind of flamenco troupe or something. But, you know, if you ask somebody in Spain, how are they or what did you think of this? They tell you and I quite liked that really.
That was a nice little diversion, wasn't it? although it had nothing to do with the story I'm trying to tell you. After Joan's disappointment, I had a new mission. And that was to engage more with my audience. Whilst the term 'audience' may be putting it a little bit strong. The patrons of said establishment leaned towards a more motley collection of misfits: lonely and bored widows, or wealthy, corpulent retirees that lacked the ability or interest in cooking.
[Rule Brittania underscored music].
There would be no point in trying to reach out to this crowd. But I held out hope for two very British little old ladies that would totter in every day around the same time. One of them wore a blue hat, which never seemed to leave her head and I used to wonder if she slept in it or wore it in the shower. They would always sit at a table right in front of me and would order a pot of tea with cake. I would smile benignly in their direction, and then play Tea for Two. I did this every day for weeks on end, and as my frustration built at the lack of engagement, so did their disinterest. They would chatter and laugh loudly whilst occupying the best seats in the House. And then when the tea had been downed, and the last crumbs of cake were snaffled up, they would get up and walk straight out without even looking back. Sometimes I would repeat the tune in different styles, such as in the style of Paco de Lucia or BB King, and even one time, AC DC. - Nothing. Then one fine day, the restaurant closed and I was back on the street. Only this time without a giant plastic cow for company. I still see Blue Hat and her friend in the streets of my local town. These days, she has a walking frame, whilst her friend has a trolley which she holds on to in order to steady her passage through the mean streets of our Hispanic seaside fishing village. I sometimes smile and wave. But to this day - nothing - not a word - not a Dicky bird - 'nada'! And I'm left with the sinking realization that there's only one thing worse than being criticized by the artisan who made your custom guitar. And that is: being completely and utterly ignored by the Blue-Hatted mistress of the English tea ceremony.
As ever, I'm going to leave the last word on cultural differences to my great friend Mike Britton. It was in response to a Facebook post in which a British pie manufacturer had posted an image of one of their pies with rather green looking chips and mushy peas.
To quote:
Mike Britton 27:43
British cuisine, with its lack of sauces and flavours, is truly disgusting. I'm so grateful that travel educated me to despise Saxonic buckets of goo!
Al Morton 27:54
Well, Mr Britton. I've heard that Mr Kipling bakes exceedingly good buckets of Saxonic goo? No, really. You've got to admit he's got a bit of a point. Oh, please. In my case, give me a paella. I'm so Spanish. It is pronounced: payayahhh by the way. No really - ask my wife - she's always telling me.
Right, it's time for another music business anecdote. At the start. I mentioned how Pink Floyd's production manager ended up being interrogated by my grandmother. But before we move on to this, I wanted to remind listeners that full details of the show, including music credits, can be found on my website: www.almorton.com. If you haven't swung by yet, why not pay us a visit. The site is completely free of commercials, as I hope are these podcasts. I would especially love it if you could join the mailing list so that I can keep you apprised of new recordings and articles.
After years of playing the European music circuit, it dawned on me that I would have more chance of becoming a pop star. If I returned to the UK. The plan was to set up a concert sound company whilst I waited for the British record industry to come to its senses and sign my band for millions. I know it was a bit naive, and also my band at the time were a bit crap. Setting up a sound company involves a lot of wheeling and dealing with other organizations including Britannia Row Productions, who at the time, were connected to Pink Floyd. They may still be I don't know, it was quite a long time ago. In setting up my own business, I bought part of a shipping container of JBL loudspeakers and high-frequency compression drivers. We call them compression drivers, but they're more like the tweeters on your domestic hifi, only massively bigger. At the time, there was a world shortage of bauxite; a material used to make the magnets of these speakers, and I unknowingly bought the last batch of ‘the precious’ from a US dealer friend. Pink Floyd were about to start a new European Tour, which included dates at Wembley, but they needed more of these vital components. The importer gave their production manager my telephone number and told him that maybe I could make up the shortfall. I should preface this story by saying that my gran didn't have any idea about who or what Pink Floyd were. And I may have taken some artistic liberties with the telling. By the way, my grandma didn't really sound like that. And I hope she forgives me because it's not intended to be taken seriously. But at the time, well, Pink Floyd wanted to speak to me. Just WOW! I could think of nothing more significant for a young sound engineer, hoping to hit the big time. Although my dreams were about to hit the buffers.
[Old fashioned BBC style orchestral music playing in the background]
[Phone ringing]
Gran 31:11
Bishopston 43210, Morton residence, Elizabeth speaking? - Oh, no, I'm sorry. He's not available right now. Maybe - Maybe I could help. - I beg your pardon? What on earth are you talking about? Compression whats? Are you something to do with the plumber? I've already called him twice about the leaking downstairs lavatory. You're not Ballcock's assistant, are you?
Al Morton 31:38
At this point, I should explain that my grandmother had a habit of giving everyone a memorable name. Ballcock, as he became known, was a regular visitor to the Victorian plumbing installations of our home, which coincidentally served as the temporary headquarters of my sound engineering Empire. He would frequently bill for changing the float valve in the cast iron lavatory systems.
Ballcock the plumber 32:07 [Strong West Country accent]
“I've got some bad news misses Morton. Your ballcock's got a hole in it; a gurt biggun by the looks of it, we get quite a lot of this in his arial.”
He was a bit of a wide-boy to be honest. And this repair, more often than not, would involve plugging the hole in the float with a piece of chewing gum.
Al Morton 32:29
Anyway, back to the stunning climax of this apocryphal tale. I was in the basement trying to put out a small fire in an amplifier that I'd unsuccessfully repaired. I was catching snippets of a rather worrying conversation taking place in the hallway above.
[Sparking and short-circuit noises]
Oh no!!!
[Electrical fire and fire extinguisher sounds]
Gran 32:53
Now look, Mr Floyd or whatever your name is. I'm terribly sorry. But he cannot come to the phone right now. What do you mean, why not? I've just told you. No - I'm sorry. But if you're not Ballcock's assistant. I don't see how my grandson is going to be of any use. Besides, I've already explained he's indisposed. He's about to have his 'din-dins'.
Al Morton 33:17
At this point. I run up the stairs and stick my head around the door whilst trying to waft smoke away from the smoke detector. I spot my grandmother hanging up the phone. Everything alright Gran? Who was that you were talking to?
Gran 33:32
He was somebody called Mike Lowe. But I thought it was Mr Floyd from the plumber's merchants calling about a pink replacement ballcock.
[Fire alarm goes off, phones ringing plus underscored Pink Floyd style music]
Sobbing - no - no!
Al Morton 34:00
So that's it from me for now. I hope you enjoyed this episode and that you can find time to subscribe for more. As always, you can read further details, including a full transcript and credits on https://almorton.com/takeout.
Credits
The podcast theme music was Serenata Hispañiola by Joaquim Malats and incidental Spanish guitar work, including Tea for Two by Vincent Youmans were played by myself on 'that' Joan Cashimira guitar. The Al Morton Takeout was written and performed by - you guessed it, Al Morton. *A special thanks to my great friend Mike Britton, and my editor in chief Heather Margaret. [* Morris music by The Hammersmith Morris Dancers].
I would like to thank the MundoMar marine centre in Benidorm for the loan of their piranha tank, and my next-door neighbours for their fluffy Persian cat, Mr Bigglesworth the second. Say hello to the nice people in podcast land.
[cat yowels]
Okay, have it your own way. What was that? You wanted to see Gavin Williamson fed to the piranhas too!
James Bond theme music was provided by No Copyrights Free Sounds. The orchestral music for the virgin segment and PC World call centre was Also Sprach Zarathustra by Richard Strauss. Music on hold was provided by incompetech.com and the NASA theme song was by Yanny. The salsa music including; La Calle está Caliente, by Asbache FT. Pacheco, with Cumbia Del Gato, remixed by Kolectivo. Rule Britannia by Thomas Arne incidental music at the start of the 'Pink Floyd rang my Gran' story was Barwick Green by Arthur Wood. Mr Ballcock's Sneaky Snitch music was provided by Mr. Snooze. The intro to 'Money' by Roger Waters and Pink Floyd was included under ‘fair use’ with the copyright remaining with the artists. This podcast is presented free of commercial gain. And if you're a Pink Floyd fan, I hope I didn't ruin it for you. So, until next time, bye.
