“The Cheshire Tally Ho” A Profile Of Some Members

Joe Park

Our glorious leader; a good humoured, talented but modest man who demands to be known as El Presidente.  Not in the first flush of youth; when excited mutters in Latin.  Though obviously foreign his mercy is boundless.

George Dobson

The club pin up.  Often arrives last, his way having been blocked by adoring females.  No one is sure which flush of youth George is in but it is believed to be a three-figure number.  Mr Dobson has a unique sense of direction; he has the instincts of a homing pigeon, unfortunately not a homing pigeon that comes from where George is going.

Ian Brown

Ian’s a mountainous smoothie with the build of a Bond henchman, a Jason King for the nineties, (unfortunately a Harold Steptoe for the noughties).  Most of the time to be found clad in leather, even when riding a motorbike.

Brian Whitworth

Our legal expert, presently handling the clubs many legal disputes, including 2 cases of defamation, one of marquetry and one of parallel monogamy (see below; no not Mike, further below, no not him, much further below).  Highly regarded in his specialist field; has considered taking it up as a profession.

Mike Shipley

Not highly regarded in his field.  Recently took up a chair at the University of Manchester but was moved on by security.  There are many stories about Mike that his wife has asked we don’t print, pending judgement.

Ray Howarth

Look beneath his robes and you will find the club shaman and font of pithy sayings.  His wisdom and spirituality make him the man club members go to see as a last resort.  The only man in the North West to have a black belt in Eastern philosophy*.  His tolerance and calm are legendary, his serene smile faintly worrying.  Can he do bicycles, can he just?

Des Winterbone

Inscrutable.  A serious attempt at scruting him was made by an expert team put together by the club in the late eighties.  Two members of the team put the experience to good use and now have a thriving consultancy.  A third didn’t make it.  Winner 4 years running of the prize for best-written content of shredded paper for his trail.

Steve Murray

It has been said that as a hell raiser, wit and raconteur, compares favourably with a young Steve Davies.  He has informed us that he does not have a receding hairline; it has always been like that.  Once told most of a joke.  Runs like a girl.

Rob MCHarry

Rob would like it known that he does not run with the club, so it’s no use coming round and trying to track him down at any of the fixtures, he won’t be there.  Also he says he’s never been in trouble with the police and the money was left to him by an old lady whose dog he used to walk.

Mark Taylor

Ex club secretary, powerhouse and dogsbody.  Has taken the title “Mr T” to heart.  Mohican haircut**, gold medallions on gold chains, gold bracelets, bemuscled and bare-chested, Mr T’s catchphrase “Wha’ yo talkin’ ‘bout fool”, can be heard even as his Skoda disappears into the distance with the tin bath bouncing about in the back.

Mike Eastward

Victim of a widespread but harmless word processor virus.  Upset some IT experts early in his career and now he and every other Mijke Eastwood who try to write Mike Eastwwod end up with their name spelt incorrectly.  Founder and sponsor of the self named Vivien Leigh seaside 10K.  Has spent much of the last few years trying to get his passport renewed.

Mike Burston

Skilled domestic heating plumbing and ventilation engineer who would like it known, that he does industrial and domestic installations and remedial work at very reasonable rates.  No weekend call-outs.  Has recently started on the path towards his life long ambition to write a new joke. 

Tom  Markham

Recently retired mill owner and industrialist. Was several inches taller as a young man but the training miles he put in have taken their toll.  Suspiciously athletic figure, which has prompted rumours of figure-enhancing drug use.  These put paid to his recent attempt to make the new Bond role his own.  Has refused to share them around.

Paul Wells

International jet setter and for a short time a globe-trotter (put on an American accent, blacked up and lied about his height).  “I’m sorry, I was commissioning a mass spectrometer”, features frequently in his excuses for missing meets.

John Jocys

John would like to be remembered mainly as a musician.  We can honestly say that it’s his music he’ll be remembered for.  A folk fundamentalist who refused to hand over his melodeon during the recent amnesty, he has been banned from all public spaces in Trafford, for launching into “My True Lady’s Figgin Is Wan”, without firing a warning shot.  Has introduced several new members to the club (riff-raff), some of whom still haven’t worked out that there aren’t really any dancing girls.

Geoff Whitehead

Caused uproar with his technique.  Club rules were pored over by our crack pedants but to no avail.  Although strictly speaking, running quickly may be within the rules of the club, it is without the spirit of the club and harmless and refreshing drinks have been procured with club funds, to be offered him before future runs.  Little else is known about him since he sets off after everyone else and is changed and gone almost before he’s set off.

Steve Blackshaw

Can’t really say too much, because I don’t like him.  He has the look of a rum’n.  Sort of a Lancashire Jar Jar Binks.  He has seen all the Bond films twice.

Walter Mason

The Bond connection continues; at least three of the Bond villains were based on Walter.  A polite and charming demeanour masks a brilliant but twisted sociopath who can kill with a single blow.  Has a large collection of exotic poisons and steals milk from old ladies.  His wife works for the National Trust.
(Walter has threatened us with legal action with regard to this piece.  As a consequence we would like to make it clear that his wife does not work for the National Trust but is a helper at Bramhall All).

Peter Butler

Found outside a laboratory in a basket as a baby, was raised by a lost tribe of scientists.  Can tell you the Sine of 60 degrees expressed as a surd fraction but has to get help with his shoelaces after a club run.  Fairly normal by club standards but with a Bakelite fetish.

John Potter

They say that people who program in assembly language are odd.  Well I’m not saying they are.  I’m just repeating what other people say; that’s all.  It’s just the opinion of the ill informed.  He’s married with children and holds down a demanding job.  People must be wrong mustn’t they?

John Wilson

Mr Wilson is a lover and aficionado of music, hence no friend of Mr Jocys. Known affectionately as M.C. Wilson by nobody.  Anybody who has met Mr Wilson will not have failed to notice his power with words.  Who can forget his famous speech when he stood up to address the Northern branch of The Lincoln Town Supporters Club?  What poetry, what economy: -  “Is there anybody there?  Bugger it, I’m off”

Tony Taylor

Tony “The Grip” Taylor, club enforcer and “concilliatori”.  Mr Taylor is a fine man and should anyone say otherwise, they will have me to deal with (and some of his sharp dressed friends more importantly).  His party trick is to tell you the value of a note by the sound it makes when it hits the ground.

Richard Ridings

The position of club pin-up having been taken, Rick has assumed the mantle of club ladykiller (although technically Mr Blackshaw has the record for most ladies killed).  His silver tongue and light charm can be seen in action occasionally, in the casinos of the Mediterranean coast but at Belle-Vue dogs most evenings.  Possesses a formidable intellect, (knows that erudite and lucid are not types of glue).

David Bell

The Chinese have their terracotta warriors; we have David Bell.  Made of the stuff that Brits are supposed to made of but further distilled and refined.  Appears regularly as a model in “Grey Socks With Sandals Monthly”.

Tim Norman

Successful, urbane and sophisticated, a man of the world with a knowing look and supreme self-confidence; no one quite knows why he’s joined this club.  Makes Brian Ferry look like Patrick Moore.

Dave Proctor

If Dave had been helping at the Sermon on the Mount, there would have been penguin biscuits and those marshmallow ones with the jam down the middle and coconut flakes on them as well.

Geoff Walley

Although technically a member of the club, he was in fact won as a prize when the club members pooled their tops off Weetabix packets and sent them off.  Although initially his arrival was greeted with great disappointment his arrival now is greeted with hardly any disappointment at all.

Ed Cheadle

The club member least likely to have a limerick written in his honour until Adrian West Samuels arrived.  The death of Jeremy Beadle has made the chances that any poetic effort is tasteful, much less likely.

Adrian West-Samuels

The result of a genetic experiment that went horribly right, Adrian is the first of a line of super beings that ultimately will replace human kind.  Often to be found practicing his insane cackle before a run.  Be nice to him, soon he will be your master.  Voted club member most likely to say “Fools, little do you suspect my plan”. Likes kittens.

*East Manchester

**They’d have their hair like that if they went to his hairdresser.

There was a young man ………………