by Karen J Mossman
My sister came to visit me from America recently, and we were reminiscing about the old days. She told me she back in the early eighties; she was in a well-known nightclub in Manchester. Going downstairs to the Ladies, she saw a private function room and noticing something was going on. She went to have a look and saw it was Mohammed Ali, who, as she found out later, had come over for Henry Cooper’s birthday.
She walked in and was stopped by someone who told her it was a private party. Putting on a brave face and confident voice, she said she was with the party. He immediately apologised and let her in. She couldn’t believe her luck and joined a queue where Ali was signing autographs with his manager beside him. She picked up a nearby menu and his manager asked her what her family name was. “You probably don’t know it,” she said. He grinned, tapped the side of his nose, and said, “I bet I know your parents, though.” She grinned back and under her breath said, ‘I bet you don’t! ‘
Ali signed the menu, and she left. Her biggest regret was losing it.
I was anxious to see my dad – who did eventually recover, and I remember thinking, Oh good, as soon as I get there, the men will have disembarked and I can jump in.
As I arrived, most of them had come out of the lift except for two. Not being a rude person by nature, so it didn’t come naturally, and all I will say in my defence is that I was a little stressed at our family circumstances. The men were chatting as if they hadn’t realised the lift had stopped. So standing at the door, I said: “Are you getting out, or what?”
One man jumped forward as if startled, “Oh sorry,” he said in his very strong Scottish accent. The other man looked amused because I’d just ordered the Manchester United manager Alex Ferguson out of the lift. He was very gracious when I apologies and shook his hand!
In the early 70s, a girl I worked with said that she was standing at the side of the road waiting for her date when a car with black windows drew up beside her.
The window came down and a young man said, “Don’t look so worried, it might never happen.”
He wound up the window and drove off. It was Rod Stewart.