Thursday, 26 August 2010

Basket Case

Following an evening on the drink, Terry awoke abruptly in the early hours with the room whirling around around him: he knew he had to dash to the toilet. But nothing's ever simple, is it? We'll never know whether it was solely down to the eight pints of Schiehallion he had consumed in a frenzy on Friday night or whether it was the difficulty his fuzzy head had in negotiating a way through the piles of freebies accrued over his profitable career reviewing music and books for the Shields Gazette, but the runner stumbled and landed on his ass - or rather his ass landed on Val's wicker basket.

Fortunately, lest he forget this lesson on the evils of drink ("God's revenge," according to his daughter), it was commemorated by Andrew McCullough (of the Pelaw McCulloughs) in this work of art:This is clearly the original. We believe the version in the British Museum to have been drawn by one of McCullough's followers, as Terry is depicted without his shorts. This may be more accurate, but McCullough was protecting the modesty of his long-time friend. The version held in the Prado in Madrid is definitely a fake; if one looks closely, "McConkey's" has been inadvertently replaced with "McConnell's", the forger clearly having no knowledge of Friday Night Boy mythos.

Here's the artist presenting the original drawing to Terry:
Let me allay your concerns about Terry's health: once the basket had been surgically removed, he was able to return to the pub the next evening.


  1. I don't think Terry's desperate battle with booze should be treated in such a light-hearted manner.

  2. Drink, arse, feck!

  3. Poor Terry. I had a similar situation ( although sadly sober) when being alerted to a weather radio at an ungodly hour. Fancy baskets are the work of the devil.

  4. Please: no sympathy for him. He was the architect of McConkey's downfall.