Crosswired

“What’s this, Granddad?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“Wot’s it look like?”

“Some form of cassette tape?”

“It’s a video tape, Tommo. Slightly before your time.”

“Doesn’t look like any video tape I’ve seen before.”

“That’s coz it’s a Betamax.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s from the Format War.”

“Format War? When was that?”

“Before you was born, Tommo. In the early days of the Digital Age. ‘Cept it was more commonly referred to then as the Information Age – which was an oxymoron in its own right, because the only information being freely spewed back then was disinformation on how you caught the AIDS virus. Did I ever tell ya that I knew someone that started a business disinfecting public telephones in bath houses and pubs around the West End – thinking he was gonna make a fortune, cos everyone was scared of catching AIDS.”

“Did he?”

“Wot? Did he catch it?”

“No, did he make a fortune, Granddad?”

“Wot, sprayin’ AIDS away?”

“Yep. Stupid question, sorry.”

“Daft bugger went bankrupt after a clerical error on his first order delivered over five thousand plastic spray bottles filled with nuffin but Dettol. He’d only ordered fifty, you see. But not being too bright, he’d left the decimal point out of the total quantity on the purchase order.”

“So, did he get to try out his theory?”

“Wot, sprayin’ AIDS away?”

“Yeah, sorry. Forgot.”

“Nah, he got laughed out of every Bum-Chum pub on Old Compton Street.”

“Granddad, you can’t say Bum-Chum nowadays.”

“What-cha want me to say then, Pooftah Pub?”

“…Forget it. So, why’d he get laughed at? Didn’t they understand that at the very least, a disinfecting of their premises would be good for public hygiene?”

“Oh, they understood alright. They understood it wasn’t just a Homo problem and that you didn’t catch nuffin from answering a telephone call. That took him a while to get his head around it, coz he said his mum did catch sumfin’ from a telephone call.”

“What did she catch?”

“Bloody whoppin’ telephone bill from her son’s cold calling pubs and clubs. Dimwit was too lazy to go door-to-door every day, so three days a week, he looked up the businesses in the Yellow Pages and used his mum’s phone to call, asking if they knew who the pooftah was that spread AIDS across the gender divide, so he could give ‘em a spray, as well. That got him barred from all West End pubs, clubs, and bars for being homophobic. But he was just an ignorant cuh..”

“..Granddad!”

“Cuh-stomer.”

“Oh, I thought you were about to say something crude.”

“I may be rude at times, Tommo. But I’m never crude.”

“Why didn’t he try elsewhere?”

“The PLN spread the word.”

“PLN?”

“Pub Landlord Network. The only place he could even get a drink after that was north of the Watford gap.”

“Why?”

“Coz bloody northerners weren’t part of the PLN. At least not the southern lodges of it.”

“…Are you making this up, Granddad?”

“As God is my witness, Tommo.”

“You’re not religious.”

“You know wot I mean.”

“So, what happened to your friend that tried marketing an AIDS cure?”

“Not a cure, Tommo, and he wasn’t a friend. Just someone jumping on the bandwagon of fearmongering.”

“So, what’s all that got to do with video tapes?”

“Nothing. Seeing that tape for sale on this market stall, just took me down Memory Lane to when times were more ignorant.”

“Don’t you worry, Granddad. Ignorance still exists today.”

“Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, Tommo. Shakespeare’s Henry the Sixth.”

“Nice one, Granddad. Ignorance is the root of misfortune.”

“Who was that?”

“The Greek philosopher, Plato.”

“Don’t get me started on philosophy, Tommo.”

“What’s wrong with Plato?”

“Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something.”

“And…?”

“Well, I talk a lot. You know that.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’m no fool.”

“No, Granddad, you’re not. Look, let’s go back to the Betamax discussion, because I’ve always thought that VHS was the standard format back you know when.”

“It was the victor of the format war, Tommo. You see, Sony developed the Betamax, but forgot the one fundamental type of entertainment that would guarantee sales of both its machines and its tapes.”

“What was that?”

“Porn, Tommo. Pure unadulterated porn. Sold like hotcakes back then, and VHS cornered the market on that little industry. Sex sells, Tommo.”

“Nothing new there, Granddad.”

“Yeah, well the demand for VHS machines sent Sony’s Betamax packing, didn’t it. Thing was, Sony had the better-quality picture and resolution, but VHS offered more movies and porn, and the video cassette recorders – the VCRs, as they were referred to – were cheaper to buy. In the end, content won over quality until DVDs came along. But where are DVDs now, eh, Tommo? They’ve gone the same way as VHS, Betamax, and Laser Discs. All landfill, the lot of ‘em. I mean, it’s all digital now. It used to be almost a night out going down to Blockbuster to pick out a couple of films to watch, buy popcorn and chocolate to take home. But now, can you even find a Blockbuster today? No. It’s all conveniently broadcast through yer telly at the touch of a button, taking your money while you’re not watching.”

“Yeah, but that’s what digital’s all about, Granddad. You can watch when you want and what you want, and pay for what you want to watch. It’s called On Demand.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want to end up On Remand.”

“What’s that mean? Why would you go to prison?”

“For watching porn.”

“Granddad, you watch..?”

“..Not anymore, Tommo. These days, they track everything you watch on On Demand. They know how far into the film you’ve gotten, how many times you paused certain scenes, how many times you rewound to just re-watch a scene, and they build up a profile of your viewing preferences for what they call marketing purposes. Just so they can push relevant advertising in yer face. If you ask me, it’s George Orwell all over again.”

“You won’t get in trouble watching porn, Granddad.”

“I don’t watch porn. I’m just saying.”

“Granddad, half of Hollywood are getting their kit off on mainstream movies and no-one cares.”

“Yeah, but just load Midgets for Money or search for Who the Dong Tolls and you join the ranks of statistics – your name to be sold to all bidders waiting to blackmail you.”

“Granddad!”

“I’m just saying, Tommo. And like I said, I don’t watch porn.”

“Good, Granddad.”

“I just skim through the titles for fun. Do you know that for a while in the Eighties, the porn industry would take a famous film of the time, re-word the title and re-create a parody of it in porn form.”

“Isn’t that copyright infringement?”

“Apparently not. I remember titles like, Pulp Friction, Forrest Hump, A Sale Of Two Titties, and one of my favourite Christmas films, Tits A Wonderful Life. Even Star Wars was parodied with Hand Solo.”

“Ha ha, that’s quite funny, Granddad. Can you imagine modern films being redone as adult entertainment?”

“Adult wot?”

“Entertainment, Granddad.”

“Whassat?”

“It’s what modern porn is called.”

“Sounds more like a Darby and Joan dance down the local social club.”

“Who’s Darby and Joan?”

“Never mind. So, name me a couple of renamed adult entertainment films, then.”

“What!? Okay. What about Saving Private Ryan’s Parts?”

“Who’s in it?”

“I don’t know, Granddad! I just made it up.”

“How about Tom Wanks?”

“And Matt OnDame.”

“Weak, Tommo. Try again.”

“Erm, how about Tom Size-is-more?”

“Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

“Edward Bums?”

“Move on to another film, Tommo. Sumfin’ more recent.”

“Oh, I know. What about Wonka?”

“Self-explanatory. No need to go any further wif that one. How about All Quiet On The Western Cuh..”

“..Granddad! Let’s stop before someone overhears you and reports you.”

“Oh, you mean the Woke police? The Room 101 people?”

“I mean any of the young mothers with kids browsing some of these stalls.”

“Like they’ve never heard that word before. It’s an endearing experience, Tommo.”

“Their kids might not have. Wait… Endearing?”

“Yeah. I’ll bet they’ve all had some.”

“Who?”

“The kids.”

“What are you on about?”

“Cuddles, Tommo! I’ll bet they get a lot of cuddles at home.”

“Cuddles? That’s what you were going to… All Quiet On The western Cuddles?”

“Yes, Tommo. What’d ya think I was tryin’ ta say?”

“Never mind.”

“Ere, look, Tommo. This old VHS tape has got a classic on it. If I remember right, it stars Henry Fonda, his daughter, Jane, and Katherine Hepburn – Bogie’s old lady.”

“Bogart? He was married to Lauren Bacall, Granddad. He was in the African Queen with Hepburn.”

“You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve?”

“You just put your lips together and blow.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Tommo. See, those Saturday afternoons when you was a kid watching old flicks at my house, have educated ya, after all.”

“To Have and Have Not, Granddad. Bogie and Bacall. One of my favourites.”

“Probably her greatest scene, Tommo. Made Bogie do a double-take on camera when she said that. That was 1940s adult entertainment. And, it made her a star after that.”

“I miss those trips to Blockbuster, Granddad.”

“Yeah, they was good times, weren’t they. Look, I’ve still got an old VCR in the loft. Why don’t we pick out a film, stop by the minimart on the way home and get some microwave popcorn, chocolates, fizzie drinks, red liquorice, then watch a film wif yer nan.”

“Yeah, alright, Granddad. You choose.”

“Let’s do this Fonda Family one.”

“Yeah, alright. I’m just going to buy some apples over there. Catch me up.”

“Will do, Tommo.”

“Right mate. Everything’s a fiver, yeah? Here you go, cheers. Let’s take a look at the title… Yeah, that’s it. On Golden Blonde. A classic. His nan’s gonna love it.... Hold up, Tommo! Grab us a couple of bananas as well, would ya? There’s a good lad… They’ll keep yer nan’s gums happy during the movie…”