A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE WITH BIRTHDAY BOY ALF

Born into an era before television, lactose intolerance or the explicit mention of oral sex in mouthwash ads, Cheetingham resident Alf Lamplighter is 110 years young today. 

By way of celebrating the event, the Observer paid the two-time great-grandfather a visit in his home, to find out just how he would be spending the day.

“You don’t need nothing special when you get to my age,” said Alf, surrounded by cards from well-wishers. “My neighbour got me some weed from London, so I’ll probably have a bit of a smoke later on this afternoon.”

Asked how things had changed during his lifetime, he replied: “Well, it’s all different, of course. We didn’t have none of this internet grooming when I was a lad. We just made do with a dab of hair oil and a comb.”

Asked if there was anything he missed about his youth, Alf looked off into the distance for a moment. “Well, I do miss some of the old country pastimes,” he mused, “things like Otter Piercing, Sphincter Gargling and Nine Men’s Nob.

“My own favourite was always Chumping. I was bloody good at it, too: won many a competition in my day.”

Chumping, a staple of pub culture from Tudor times, is thought to have finally died out sometime in the 1930s. The sport involved pairs of blindfolded opponents taking it in turns to hit each other over the head with a pork pie.

To qualify, pies had be certified as locally baked and of a regulation size and weight. Scoring a ‘chump’, required a player to render his opponent unconscious without breaking either the pie’s crust or the man’s skull. To crack or rupture the pastry – or kill a contestant – was to be instantly disqualified. And the price of disqualification was the price of a pint for every single person in the pub – including the children.

“Some of the lads used to ask the local butcher, old George Malpractiss, to mix horse glue into the pastry, make the pie stronger,” recalled Alf, with a grin.

“But I never did that – I used to get him to bake a horseshoe into mine. You know, I never lost a match!”

Chuckling at the memory, Alf wheezed, coughed several times and then fell back into his chair. Understanding the interview to be over, the Observer quietly replaced his false teeth and closed his mouth, before leaving Cheetingham’s undisputed Chumping champion to enjoy his birthday in peace.