" You Never Know To Whom You're Talking. "

Anyone here into Steeleye Span ? Maybe one or two of the more mature readers may have, as I have, fond memories of Maddy Prior and the lads on stage. Either way, I'm sure Most of ye are familiar with their " Gaudete ". If not, I'd hope at least some bloody radio or tv station will bring it to ye in the coming weeks.

Anyway, I'm not really here to talk about dear old Steeleye'. They're just an introduction to another thought that popped into my head here. See, they also recorded a track called " The Black Freighter ". And the origins of that have haunted me for bloody decades now ~ untill just now, that is. We never had Google back in the 70's!

And That's where I get the title of this chat from. Because ye Don't! Here's the craic .....

Back in the day, in Portsmouth, I was a nightly visitor to a certain, family run Off Licence. The Proprietress was a lady, name of Lorna. Lorna probably had five to ten on me. But she also had a vague shadow of the Japanese look about her. Just something about her, looking back. And ~ again, pre pc days, I simply hadn't been exposed to the stomach tightening world of Japanese girls back then. So, I just knew that Lorna gave me the haunch!

Anyway, I digress ..... I was always in there, because Lorna, bless her, got on with me like a house on fire. Thus, knowing I was an alchy, and permanently skint, she allowed me an on going slate. I could pick up a bottle of 'White Lightening' and half ounce of 'Golden', then pay her off when I had it. Next night, I'd be back. No embarrassment. No old fashioned looks. Lorna knew she could always trust me.

Well, obviously, we chatted too. I'd hang around and chat with her for probably half an hour, most nights ~ at least until the urge to take my stuff off licence and get started over took me. And that's how I came to know ..... Was it Sid or Stan? I'm damn sure it was one or the other.

Let's go with 'Sid'. Sid, it would seem, was another bugger for the bottle. Older than me. He was a short, squat, toad like, sweaty and unkempt looking old guy. Red faced. Gray haired. He looked every bit the sort of bloke who shambled home to a grotty, dingy god knows where and settled down, in his squalor.

Perhaps he did? God knows. I never got to know Sid that well. But, as ye do, we came to be on nodding terms at least. And thus I picked up a hint or two about Sid, from my brother. I'd dabbled with Martial Arts in my time. My Bro' too was sniffing. Thus he heard about Sid and had told me.

That's why, during one chat with Lorna, I'd pointed out to her that the bloke she wanted round, should it ever kick off in her little side street Offy, was our Sid. " He'd fuckin' look after ye! ". I assured her.

Lorna was aghast. " What? Sid?! That stocky, shabby little bloke? He always just struck me as a ..... well ..... "

Yes. Me too. Only my Bro' had a Lot of respect for the guy. Lot of people did. And, having fell in with our Sid one night, as we both wandered back to our individual holes, to indulge our private needs, stopping off on our parting corner, Sid had a little moan to me:

" They want me to go back to Japan. They want me to take another fucking Dan Grading. This'd be my Eighth Dan ..... ". I tried not to thrust my own knuckles into my mouth. I'm thinking like; 'Jesus Wept! And you do Jiu Jitsu? Japanese Jiu Jitsu?! That's the Really Vicious shit. No fancy, flying kicks. You just Grind Meat and Bone!!! '.

For those of ye who don't know about this shit? " Black Belt ". Ye know That shit right enough, yeah? Well, a Black Belt comes with ye First " Dan " level grading. Ye belt gets 'Blacker', the more hideously dangerous ye become. First Dan 'Black Belt'? Nightmare for the common man. Second Dan? Even more lethal. And, there's only Ten fucking Dan's ye can take! Sid (or Stan) was being begged back to Japan, to take his Eighth ~ might have been Ninth. My memory .....

Scary. Half a dozen 'Chav' types, with their knives and broken bottles, ever blocked Sid's path, in a Portsmouth back alleyway? He'd just put them through the mincer. Moving steadily forward. Mangling. Destroying. Spitting out.

People should have more respect. " You never know to whom you're talking. ".