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Just joking - we only called him that behind his back. The most literal was perhaps our three legged Jack Russell called Tripod. MORE by Hannah Jones: Katie Hopkins, I'd eat you for breakfast I present the Shetland pony called Shorty, the black cat called Sooty, the King Charles Cavalier called Charlie, the Sheepdog called Shep, the ginger cat called Ginger, Tweetie the budgie, our duck Quackers and rabbit who had the head the size of a football who went by the name (do try to keep up) Head Like A Football. In retrospect, it was the naming of our pets, taking Roy Walker’s “say what you see” advice to a Valleys-hued extreme.
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My friend cracked up laughing, leaving my father totally confused because he genuinely didn’t have a clue what he’d done. The day my gay friend came home from a trip to London with not so much as a tea towel to show for the experience and Pa Jones said to him, "Oh, I’m surprised you didn’t bring me something back with the Queen on."
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When my pal, who just happened to have acne, telephoned the house for me and my father called up the stairs, "Hannah! Spot’s on the blower for you!" Squirm #2 That’s not to say they haven’t had a giggle at my expense, mind you. I was 10 at the time and living on a diet of Salt ‘n’ Shake crisps, pop and "don’t look at me!" and they didn’t care about my sweet, sweet talk of "SIT DOWN! You are SOOOOO embarrassing!"Īt that moment, I became self-conscious in a way that I still struggle with, but there’s never been an occasion since where they properly, deliberately, consciously simpled me. So while I have given my parents much to sigh about over the years, the most cringeworthy thing they ever did to me before I developed a sense of humour was stand up during a Showaddywaddy concert and dance to Moon of Love. I can still feel the force of her tugging it down and making me ‘tidy’ again. I’ve never seen my mother, who’s got two gammy legs, move so fast. If Abba had come from South Wales instead of Sweden, I bet they would have banged on about swearing before you could talk instead.)Īnother time, or so I’m told, I pulled off my aunty’s wig when dancing with her AT HER OWN WEDDING, which was AFTER I’d walked down the aisle as her bridesmaid - a bridesmaid whose beautiful dress had got caught in her canary yellow knickers. (Having grown up in a pub, my turn of phrase was advanced way beyond my years. The history book has it that during a trip to see Santa in the old Ebbw Vale Co-op, I tugged on his beard then sweetly requested "a bar of soap and a p*** pot" as my Christmas presents. Haven’t got a nice shandy instead, have you?” Then there was the first day in nursery I was asked if I wanted a nice glass of milk to which, or so my mother recalls with a smile, I answered: “No ta love, I’m not fussed on that muck. Perfectly pitched whilst raking for gold. Like the time I was Mary in the school play and spent it picking my nose and literally making a meal out of it while singing "Baby Jesus, meek and mild". I am sure that in my 43 years, I have done lots of things to embarrass my parents.