Eddie don't like furniture - John Hegley
- unclestylus
- 3 days ago
- 7 min read
I first heard of John Hegley when I was part of a team that "put him on" at the north London community centre Caxton House, just ten minutes walk east of Archway tube station. The gig was a disability arts Christmas concert, perhaps the first collaboration between Islington Arts and Entertainments and SHAPE, and took place round about 1990 with John headlining with his band, the Popticians.
We had advertised the event on the SHAPE mailing list, whose subscribers were all disabled, promising total accessibility including transportation to the venue. The idea, a novel one then, was to remove all obstacles to attendance, and much time was spent on consulting with various voluntary agencies to provide ambulance, minibus and coach transport for the punters. However, some of the audience lived in very inaccessible places and had to be taken to the venue individually and I, a recent addition to the team and therefore very green, was assigned one of these.
I was sent to pick up one "Iris" who I was advised was an elderly woman that lived on the first floor of a housing estate block and walked using walking sticks. Although it was after dark - about 5 pm - I found her flat easily and, having spoken to her through the intercom and been buzzed in, was greeted by a six foot woman slumped in an armchair that was obviously the centre of her four room flat - living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. The chair was facing the telly, and the conveniently placed low tables around it suggested this was where she spent most of her time. She had made a real effort to get ready for the concert, all made-up, wearing a beautiful gold and satin dress and her blonde hair was curled and styled. As I helped her to her feet, it was clear she couldn't walk unaided even with her sticks and that I would have to support her under one shoulder, itself a difficulty as she was a big woman, tall and overweight due to her immobility. Somehow I managed to get her to the lift, and into it, and down to my car, mercifully parked in a fit for purpose bay only a few yards from the lift. Getting her into the car was a struggle, even with the passenger seat back as far as it would go, and getting her seat belt on was a real achievement. During the operation her beautiful hair-do proved to be a wig, falling off her head, luckily into the car, and I saw she was completely bald before she hastily restored it. When I went back to lock up her flat, she insisted I brought along her red high heels so she could change into them at Caxton House.
On the drive there she told me that she had a son who usually dropped in around Christmas - he hadn't been since last December - and a daughter with grandchildren who lived in Australia, who she hadn't seen for years. She also had a carer who visited once a week, an hour to clean up, and chat and see if she was alright.
The concert was great although a bit bizarre as the audience was a motley mix of (a) youngish very savvy and appreciative semi-autonomous wheelchair users with conditions such as motor neurone disease and cerebral palsy (b) elderly people like Iris and (c) mental health service users, none of whom looked particularly comfortable at sharing the space with the others. It was early days in the disability arts movement and we were all learning lessons about how to market events. I do remember the team having a very interesting debrief a few days later with the then Director of SHAPE, the inspiring Chris Davies, who was at the event.
Making no concessions to his audience, Hegley was as funny and incisive as he always was (as I later discovered at future performances) and his audience loved him. The Popticians, a guy on double bass and a woman on violin, were great musically as well as being funny. With added Christmas cake, mince pies and a glass of wine, a good time was had by all.
Getting Iris out of my car unaided on the return journey was close to impossible and nearly killed both of us. We staggered like a pair of far-gone drunks from car to lift and lift to her flat. Once safely ensconced in her armchair, Iris looked as though she'd never get up again so I offered to make her tea or something to eat but she said she was fine, thanked me for a wonderful evening and said she'd watch some telly before going to bed. I switched it on and said goodbye.
After the weekend, I popped by with a Christmas card, but Iris wouldn't let me in, said she wasn't decent and told me to pop it through the letter box. Worried, I contacted the borough social services department and asked them to check to see that she was alright, and they said they would. When I returned to my desk in January, there was a message saying she'd been found dead round about the turn of the year. They didn't say how.
I only met her for one night, but still remember her determination to go to the concert, to look good, and me swapping her high heels with her normal shoes once she was inside Caxton House, not complaining, although her swollen feet must have hurt like hell once I had got them on. And I wonder too, whether her son, social services or indeed anyone, did get in to see her that last Christmas.
A couple of my favourite Hegley shorts:
Luton
(a poem about the town of my upbringing and the conflict between my working-class and the middle-class status conferred upon me by a university education)
I remember Luton
as I’m swallowing my crout’n.
© John Hegley
and
Without drought
The sky is spitting a lot
even though it is not
a footballer
© John Hegley
and longer and darker:
Scottish country dancing
It was something in the delicacy of the footwork
which appealed to me
when I first saw them Scottish country dancing in assembly
and although I was a bit of a lad about the school
I knew that I too wanted to do this
so I roped a friend into going along to a lesson in the dinner hour
and when the teacher saw that it was us
she said that she sincerely hoped that we had not come there to be stupid
I insisted that we were there to learn
and begrudgingly she let us join the class
and after a bit our feet began to get the idea
and I got such a thrill
from the thought of learning the skill’s secret
I laughed out loud at the pleasure of it
and immediately she turned off the record and said
now get out the pair of you
I knew you’d only come here to be stupid
© John Hegley
and
A dog and a pigeon
in a shocking flurry of feathers
a seemingly pleasant dog attacked a pigeon in the park
the badly shaken owner tethered the attacker
who began to bark
if that dog can kill I said
you should let it finish the job
no said another witness
it’s not our job to interfere with nature
the owner looked
the pigeon bled
it’s your dog – your decision I said
I’ll let him go, says the owner
and then it’s up to Fred
so Fred is freed
and the bleeding bird
is shaken and left but still not dead
it’s even worse now the owner whimpers
a brick on the head then I say
I can’t says the owner beginning to weep
ca you – can you do it?
then my brother-in-law comes over
with half a paving stone
I’ll do it he says
for ten quid
© John Hegley
The last one is the ol' Hegley sneak up, surprising you with a subject return.
I was so impressed with the Caxton house gig, I saw Hegley whenever I had the chance. One time I took an architect friend along and we were sat in the front row. Hegley was in particularly scoriating form that night and was asking people from the audience where they came from or what they did for a living. He stopped in front of us and asked my friend his profession and, terrified, my friend gulped out that he was an accountant. After a couple of caustic one liners, Hegley moved on. Afterwards I asked my friend why he'd lied and he replied ,"he would have really ripped me apart if he'd known I was an architect". I never figured that one out, neither the fear nor the lie.
The highlight of the Caxton House show was "Eddie don't like furniture". Iris loved it. I remember her guffawing uproariously at John, her laugh sounding like a loud gargle, and gamely singing along to the "Na na, na na" refrain. It's a good singalong, simple to learn and easy to perform to your relatives on Boxing Day:
Eddie don't go for sofas or settees
(na na, na na)
or those little tables that you have to buy in threes
(na na na na na na na)
the closest thing that Eddie's got to an article of furniture's the cheeseboard
Eddie doesn't bolster the upholstery biz
there's a lot of furniture in the world but none of it's Eddie's
Eddie don't like furniture
furniture makes Eddie really miserable
Eddie don't like furniture
(Na na, na na)
Eddie don't like furniture
(Na na na na na na na)
Eddie offers visitors a corner of the room
you get used to the distances between you pretty soon
put everyone in corners though it isn't very easy
when you're trying to play pontoon
or happy families
he once got in a rowing boat
they offered him a seat
it was just a strip of timber
but it wasn't up his street
he stood himself up in the boat
and made himself feel steady
then he threw the plank onto the bank
and said furniture no thank you
les meubles? Non, merci
(ooooh ahh)
when it's on a bonfire furniture's fine
any time that Eddie's gets the number 29 bus
even if there's seats on top and plenty down below
Eddie always goes where the pushchairs go
does Eddie like furniture?
I don't think so
Eddie don't like furniture
(Na na, na na)
Eddie don't like furniture
(Na na na na na na na)
Eddie quite likes cutlery
but Eddie don't like furniture
(Na na na na na na na na na na na)
if you go round Eddie's place
and have a game of hide and seek (a na na)
it isn't very long before you're found
(Nana na na na)
and in a fit of craziness
Eddie took the legs off his dachshund
to stop him dashing around
(Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na)
Eddie don't like furniture
(na na, na na)
Eddie don't like furniture
(na na na na na na na)...............
if you give him some for Christmas
he'll return it t'ya
© John Hegley
A smile is worth a hundred kisses.