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AGM Minutes

Chairman's Report Member Secretary's report

We came. We saw. We decided to stay. The hotel was great. I have to say though that I for one missed the military style dictatorship of the hotel in Scotland. There was something strangely comforting about being ordered to sit there, no, not there, there.

.Iím afraid we missed the initial get together in the bar because we couldnít find it and Ted wouldnít ask. I told him that I had seen wee Jimmy hanging on the wall, his little eyes pleading and his tiny paw pointing but Ted was having none of it.He said, and I quote, ĎIf I canít sniff out a bloody bar after all the years I spent in the army, Iím a bloody Dutchman.í

U bent zulk een dwass, Ted.

Iím sure that a lot went on at the Gala Dinner but, at this point Iíd like to thank Terry and Andrew for providing rather a lot of liquid refreshment. It would have been very rude of me, not to say churlish had I not had one or two, well, go on then, three or four and though I went so far as to make notes of the evening, unfortunately I canít read my writing. I can make out a few names such as, Twaat, Gorgon and then a bit about Lowpain and suspenders, I think that last bit came from Tom Thornton.

It was really great that Terry and Andrew made it, even though it was only for a short time and once again on behalf of us all, thank you. 

I did notice a fracas between yon Tweet and the poor guy behind the bar but after two falls and one submission Tweet won and the bad lager was relegated until he was drunk enough not to know the difference.

Oh yes, our thanks go to Hazel, not so much Ted, for decorating the dining room. It was lovely. By the way, Dixie and Noreen won the free week-end but I bet they didnít get the jacuzzi.

For those of you who wondered why Marlene refused to smile and had to have her food liquidised, well, youíll have to keep on wondering because my lips are sealed, (over my teeth which arenít lost.)

Iím not going to mention the AGM except to say, thankyou Hazel for all your hard work (not so much, Ted) towards making this another memorable week-end. There was cheese and German booze served up after the meeting and, interestingly, that was precisely when Taff Powell surfaced.

The raffle was held at lunch time and luckily I was taking notes because I noticed a pattern forming. Certain people seemed to be winning exactly the kind of thing they had on their wish list, for example, Taff Powell won a bottle of whiskey, hmm. Gordon Harper won a bottle of, what, I hear you say, surely not whiskey. Iím afraid it was, people, but wait, thereís more. Colonel Popeís win was the most startling of all and certainly the most thought provoking for he won hours of fantastical fun with the Fantasy Play Palace. Not to burst your bubble Bob but you do know you have to share it with Shirley, donít you?

The Sixties Night was a huge success and itís with deep and abiding gratitude that I thank a couple of members from Showaddywaddy for showing up. Dusty Springfield made a guest appearance too and for a while it worried me that Scary Spice was trying to chat her up. Turns out it wasnít Scary it was Mungo Jerry and it doesnít surprise me that Bill managed to stash the rest of the band under his wig. Did anybody else catch that fleeting glimpse of George Harrison fresh from the cover of Sgt. Pepper? I also saw Panís People but I didnít let on, money for old rope that lot.

One thing did puzzle me however, how was it that so many rough and ready ex-squaddies decided to come dressed as peace loving hippies. I hate to say this, boys but youíre cover is blown.

We also had a brilliant comedian in the guise of Tom Thornton unfortunately our compťre for the evening, Tweet, seemed totally unaware of Tomís true identity.

As Tom left centre stage and ploughed his way through the audience Tweet roared, ĎA big round of applause for Bob.í

We, the audience, certain that this was all part of the plot clapped and cheered and stamped our feet. Bob would have loved it, whoever he was.

And then Tweet bellowed, ĎBob, Bob, Bob, Bob, youíre supposed to go out the back door, mate.í

Completely oblivious to his new persona Tom continued in a straight line towards the bar and I am certain that had Tweet not thrown in the universal Ďmate,í he would be there still. Fortunately for us all Tom heard the call and went out the back door. What I donít understand is, why.

Well done, Tweet, mate! Bob wishes you all the best and Tom, well, probably not.

Karaoke Ė now weíre talking. This was something that I had really looked forward to. Iíve never seen it done before and couldnít imagine that anybody would actually get up and sing. Wow, was I ever wrong. I sat in open mouthed amazement watching and listening to people like Ann Nightingale, Anne Hodkin, Geoff Lawrence, Tom (Bob) Thornton and Tom Watt and even Jim Brookes.

The whole thing was brilliant, eventually. As the booze flowed so did the inhibitions and it seemed that more was definitely less. Itís a brilliant concept, paying someone to come and get you to do your own entertainment. Iím telling you, people, Iíd have been up there myself but I couldnít reach the mic.

 There was one among us however, who showed real aptitude. It was obvious that this guy was no sprog to the karaoke game, he showed up with suitcase and guitar in hand, more than ready for a one night stand. ĎHello Wallí, wasnít in it though, nor was ĎHelp me make it through the nightí. You see, this Country King had put in some real effort, actually dressed the part, plaits and all. Yep, Iíve got to say this guy had thought long and hard about his performance. Unfortunately, the daft wazzock forgot to check that the man with the machine had Willy Nelson. Nothing happened, did it, Gordon?



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