Vic Barlow’s Top Ten

Ex-Macclesfield Express columnist, dog whisperer, raconteur and local legend-in-his-own-lunchtime Vic Barlow is joining our team and will be offering the occasional off-the-wall thoughts on Macclesfield in his usual inimitable style.

Some while ago I was asked to submit an article about those unforgettable folk who had made Macclesfield the place it is today. After some pondering I finally have it finished.

Here are my Top Ten:

Number 10: Cheshire Police.

Who will ever forget the Macclesfield Bikeathon when Cheshire Police forgot to apply the brake to their ‘road safety’ trailer allowing it to hurtle down Church Street destroying Shackleton’s cycle shop en route? 

The Keystone Cops could not have contrived a more crazy stunt. As a public exercise in police incompetence it has never been surpassed

Sir Nick (right) still ducking his round at Wildboarclough Fete. Current Chancellor George Osborne on the left and Vic centre

Number 9: Sir Nicholas Winterton

How did he do it? It’s an astounding achievement for which he received a Knighthood. Thirty-two years of attending dances, dinners, garden parties, village fetes and festivals without buying a single drink. It’s a record that will never be surpassed.

He once handed me a coffee from a vending machine and I was so astonished I told Mrs B who said, “Yes I know I gave him the money to get it.”

I don’t know what Sir Nick did with his expenses? He didn’t spend any on me.

Muriel Clampett

Number 8: Muriel Clampett

Now there was a feisty lady if ever there was one. Muriel was the Independent councillor for Broken Cross when I wrote a good-natured article about Macclesfield look-alikes. 

I said Councillor Clampett was a doppelganger for Deirdre Barlow’s mother Blanche in Coronation Street. I thought Muriel would laugh…how wrong could I be?

The day after publication I was walking through the town hall when Muriel strode towards me and belted me with her handbag. “That’ll teach you to make fun of me,” –wallop.

Shortly after that she became Mayor and we became good friends.

Number 7: Marshall Spearing’s Pies:

Spearing’s pies pop up in more places than David Rutley. Had Marshall organised a decent campaign his pies would be running Cheshire East now (and could have done a better job).

There would have been no Physio Gate scandal. (You never see a steak pie with a bad back). I swear to god I bought a Spearing’s pie last week that had a crust the spitting image of Gary Barlow. How cool is that?

Together they could rule the world.

Number 6: Crompton Rd Chippie

How good do your puddings have to be for someone to hide in the toilets, wait until you’ve locked up then steal 74 of them, which is precisely what happened at Crompton Road Chippie some years ago

Ignoring the laptop computer and the cash float in the till this thief walked out into the night with a full tray of steak puddings.

I don’t know how you fence a steak pudding but I’m betting some drunken acquaintances got a bargain.

Number 5: Taffy Davis (vicar extraordinaire)

I’ve often thought Christianity was a great organisation with a very poor marketing department. Then Sutton vicar Taffy Davis changed my perspective on the clergy for all time.

“Will you attend our duck race? he asked with the wide–eyed innocence of an orphan. “You will be our Guest of Honour and it’s all in a very good cause.”

How could I refuse?

Imagine my shock when half-a-dozen scouts, with the sensitivity of a rogue elephant, dragged me kicking and screaming into stocks while Taffy’s flock pelted me with wet sponges for 50 pence a pop. 

Have you ever been hit in the face with a wet sponge flung by a demented verger?  It has the same impact as a brick.

I learned to be a lot more wary of the clergy after that experience.

Number 4: PC Jim Genders

When PC Jim patrolled the town centre you knew we were in good hands. Political Correctness never reached PC Jim. He was a  hybrid of Dixon of Dock Green and The Sweeney. Jim knew his patch and the scallywags knew him. 

I was attending the Rose Queen ceremony outside the town hall when a gang of youths intent on mischief sprayed cans of beer on the assembled crowd.

It looked like they would wreck the proceedings until PC Jim suddenly appeared from behind a pillar, extinguished his cigarette and called out, “You and I will be having words very shortly, lads.”

I never saw a bunch of yobs disperse faster. Job done PC Jim went back to whatever he was doing.

Thus were many town centre ‘incidents’ resolved.

Thanks, Jim.

Number 3: Big Zac from the Flower Pot

If you have seen Big Zac you will not forget him. Zac lives with owners Gail and John at the Flower Pot pub and is probably the largest Rottweiler in the world.

What makes Big Zac so special is his affable temperament and gentle nature. He is the very opposite of a ‘Devil Dog’ and an absolute credit to his breed. 

Zac taught me never to judge anyone by the suit they wear.

Number 2: Hissing Syd of the Army & Navy Store

Was there ever a more eccentric shopkeeper than Hissing Syd?

Syd could always be found at the Army and Navy store on Chestergate dispensing sibilant wisdom through his missing teeth.

I once dashed in on my way to a gundog trial at Chatsworth after realising I needed new Wellies.

What sort do you want?” Syd asked.

“Green size nine, I’m in a hurry, Syd.”

Syd shuffled upstairs and returned with a pair of Wellies in a plastic bag.

“Green size nine,” he announced.

I paid, grabbed the bag and shot off to Chatsworth.

Unwrapping the Wellies with barely a minute to spare I saw a large day-glo sign attached to the boots saying ‘Big Lump in Right Foot.’

I slid my hand inside and there it was…a bulge the size of a tennis ball. With no alternative I was forced to wear the Wellies throughout the entire competition. They crippled me.

First thing the following morning I hobbled into the shop and returned the boots with more than a little annoyance.

“Don’t you like ‘em?” asked Syd.

‘Like ‘em…are you kidding? Did you know these Wellies had a damn great lump in the right foot.”

To my complete astonishment Syd replied, “Course I did.”

“Then why the hell did you sell them to me?”

Unabashed Syd replied,  “I thought they might suit you.”

“Syd,” I yelled in frustration, “are you telling me you thought I might have a hole in my right foot to accommodate a lump?”

“It’s possible.”

Ladies and gentleman, no finer vendor of military surplus ever graced the planet. 

I give you Hissing Syd. 

Number 1. Lighter John

Let me tell you why I am choosing Lighter John for my Number One spot.

Like hundreds of fellow Maxonians I was determined to get a picture of the Queen on her visit to Macclesfield in 2003.

On the appointed day I mingled with a large crowd near Kings School eagerly awaiting the arrival of her Majesty. After what felt like an eternity someone said the royal car was approaching.

After tumultuous cheering and flag waving there followed an eerie moment of awed silence when a lone voice carried on the summer breeze called: “Five for a pound your lighters…six for a pound your super-glue.”

I don’t know if Her Majesty bought any lighters but I followed the news for days in utter dread that Buckingham Palace had gone up in flames. 

Oh, how I miss Lighter John

And how we’ve missed you Vic (Ed)