I
had told Ray I wanted to go on air to make it absolutely clear to our audience
that the Anorax Trax compilation was a one-off, produced solely for the RSL,
and not commercially available. The CD was generating so much interest that
I was afraid Fluff and I would end up in jail if we did not clarify the situation
to the public. It was a toss-up as to whether I was to repeat my guest appearance
on the Coffee Break, or if it was to be Chris, plugging his book. To everyone's
immense relief, Ray finally received confirmation that a batch of the precious
tomes would be delivered in time for the scheduled signing that afternoon, so
Chris grabbed the opportunity to go on the Coffee Break to promote it. To give
an insight into the more glamorous aspects of broadcasting, I had to persuade
our high-profile personality guest to interrupt the thrilling chore of pegging
out his washing, in order to come into the studio and act like a star guest
author!
(Picture: Personal ap-pierance. Newly-famous author, Chris Elliot signs his life away...
Thanks to the North Sea's recent antisocial behaviour, a backlog of punters
was already clamouring to visit the Yeoman Rose, and it wasn't just 'oldies'.
The response we'd received from young listeners had been terrific. The first
people I encountered waiting for the tender, when I returned to the pier, were
a mother and her nine-year-old son whom I had met the previous day. The boy's
knowledge of pirate radio had proved to be extraordinary. He had naturally been
very disappointed not to be able to visit the ship, but his mother had told
me she wasn't able to take any more time off to return before the 14th.
"You came back then!" I said, surprised to see her.
"My son just wouldn't let up," she explained. "He would never have given me
any peace again if I hadn't brought him back!"
I went into Walton to do a bit of shopping for the DJs, and IMMEDIATELY spotted
novelty items that would make perfect gifts for everyone on board the Yeoman
Rose. These were money boxes in the shape of pirates, but the hip dudes on display
clearly had little affiliation to Long John Silver. How many of Silver's renegades
were renowned for wearing shades? The four different characters, who also sported
copious face fungus and looked as if they'd been modelled on the Sea Poodle,
would surely have been much more inclined to utter 'Yo!' than 'Yo ho ho'. One
of these groovy little guys would provide an exceedingly apt home for The DTI
Pound, I thought, as I proceeded to buy up most of the shop's stock.
Wandering through the town, I suddenly heard someone calling my name. It was
Hugo and Diana, who had managed to skive off work, and came bearing their usual
supplies of cakes. Hugo had noticed that the photograph of Mark in Ray's merchandising
brochure bore a striking resemblance to Ronnie Biggs, the infamous escaped train
robber. Had Biggs really been Mark Roman all along, we wondered? The great train
robber was currently in the news as being under threat of arrest and extradition
from Brazil, so a newspaper photo of him had proved easy to find. Not expecting
to be able to get a place on any of the exceedingly fully-booked trips to the
ship, Diana pinned the Biggs pic beside Mark's brochure photograph and despatched
it on the tender with her latest consignment of doughnuts.
Back on the pier, we had our first peek at The Wonderful Radio London Story.
Sales and signings were going pretty well, and Chris was delighted by the very
favourable comments and compliments concerning his long-awaited 'baby'. One
or two Anoraks also recognised me, and as the Knees Club and myself were right
there in the index, I found I got asked to sign some copies too. I'd never been
indexed by anyone before, and it's true that you never forget your first time.
However, for anyone with concerns about being indexed, let me reassure you that
it doesn't hurt a bit, and nobody will disrespect you afterwards.
Diana
had placed her faithful trannie beside Chris's table adjacent to the shop, so
that we could listen to the Roman Empire. Suddenly Big Lil was gone! Thinking
the table had been jogged and the radio had simply been knocked off the wavelength,
Diana twiddled the tuner, but couldn't find the station. I double-checked my
Walkperson to discover the unthinkable had happened. We'd gone off the air while
Allan was ashore! After a few worrying moments of silence, Mark's voice reappeared,
with a few test announcements. He disappeared and came back a couple of times,
then informed us that our engineer had been recalled to the ship and that when
we saw a man flying down the pier with his shoes on fire, it would be Allan.
Shortly afterwards, a bearded comet appeared on the horizon, leaving smoking
planks in his wake as he streaked in the direction of the watery end of the
pier. Allan was aboard the tender being whisked out to the ship before you could
say 'dead air'. Lil was very swiftly ruling the waves once more, having been
resuscitated after a generator problem.
That evening I did get to return to Wix to change, and much to my landlady's
surprise, I even stayed long enough to have a meal. There being only one other
family in the dining-room, Pat put us all on one table, so that I shouldn't
feel lonely. I found it very strange trying to relate to three strangers who
had no idea and even less interest about the event of the decade, taking place
right now off the coast of Walton. I tried hard to think of other subjects worthy
of conversation but it was a struggle. At least one of the party was in the
WRNS, so she had something of an affinity with Jacob's Ladders, tenders and
the North Sea. If these people were bored rigid, they were either far too polite
to say so, or I'd successfully bored them to death, and had simply failed to
notice rigor mortis setting in.
(Picture: The Bearded Comet contemplates an evil fate for the
malfunctioning generator...)
Fortunately, before long, I was back among friends who were on the same wavelength
- 266, of course. Maxine had invited me to visit her house in Frinton later
that evening. It was dark by the time my car turned onto the sea front, and
nobody had warned me about the stunning vision that would greet me when I did
so. It was so distracting that I could easily have driven straight into a lamp-post.
If the Yeoman Rose had looked terrific the first time I'd seen her from Frinton
in the daylight, it was nothing compared to the shimmering sight she presented
when she put on her evening wear. It's amazing what a little cosmetic enhancement
can do for an elderly lady. A few fairy lights set in her rigging and that old
cargo ship shimmered on the water, glamming herself up to play a glorious sea-goddess.
Maybe it was the spirit of Lil that was setting her ablaze on a clear, starlit
night. If only I'd had a camera with me that could have done justice to that
magical sight.
Maxine's cat, Betty, made no objections to my presence, but had apparently shown
her disapproval of Cardboard Shoes when he had stayed there, by hissing at him!
Cats are highly sensitive creatures, so perhaps Betty shared my suspicions of
some dark secret lurking locally up Keith's trouser legs. What was it that was
making him ashamed of displaying his knees?
This was the only occasion I had the opportunity to enjoy Big L '97 for the
entire evening, although even being in close proximity to the transmitter, the
reception wasn't too brilliant. At Maxine's house, Mark entertained us while
I caught up with reading a collection of newspaper reports about the station.
Then we watched a videotape of the piece shown on Sky News, which had been filmed
when Ed Stewpot, Tony Brandon and Ian Damon had been to pay homage to Lil. Their
faces were a picture when they saw the studio. Though it was a totally different
studio aboard a totally different ship, within minutes of arriving aboard they
were talking of 'when we were here 30 years ago'. Lil's presence on the Yeoman
Rose was so strong that they immediately felt they were home.