Whatever Happened to...Lord Lucan?

So Lord Lucan fled to Africa, with the aid of his wealthy friends, after murdering his children's nanny. At least, that's the claim being made by a former employee of the late John Aspinall, one of those wealthy friends. Apparently she was involved in arranging for Lucan's children to travel to Africa 'on holiday', where they could be seen by their father. Sadly, she didn't say whether he blacked up or not as part of his disguise. After all, by the 1970s a posh white Englishman might have seemed a bit conspicuous in some parts of Africa. Indeed, such a person could even have become a target for African nationalists and the like. Bearing in mind that Aspinall's former aide also claimed that the children never actually met their father during these visits, but that he simply observed them from a distance, I should imagine that he did apply the boot polish to, at the very least, his face.

Personally, I'd like to think that his disguise was far more extensive - head to foot boot polish, an afro wig, grass skirt, spear and perhaps even a bone through his nose. Little did those young children realise, but that proud Masai warrior they saw dancing wildly around a fire, vigourously waving his spear and shouting 'Umbongo, Umbongo, they drink it in the Congo', was actually their father. With a disguise that effective, is it any wonder that the British police could never find Lucan? Mind you, having seen an interview with the retired police detective who headed the hunt for Lord Lucan, I wasn't surprised that Lucan evaded capture. To be frank, he looked like they'd found him sleeping on a park bench and had probably paid him for the interview with a bottle of meths. But what of Lucan's eventual fate? Is he still alive? Did Nelson Mandela actually die in hospital last week, to be replaced by the still blacked up Lucan? Who knows. Certainly not the UK police.

Whatever Happened To...That Bloke Who Bashed Himself Over the Head With a Tray?

Do you remember that bloke whose entire act was to whack himself over the head with a tea tray? He used to be on TV all the time, on things like Crackerjack. Basically, he'd get a tin tea tray and smash it over his head in time to a backing tape - usually something like 'Mule Train'. And that was it. Nothing else. The tray ended up bent out of shape, and he always finished up with a huge livid bruise on his bonce, (needless to say, he was bald as a coot). For some reason, the other day I found myself wondering whatever happened to him? (Apart from suffering brain damage and ending up a drooling vegetable, perhaps). Did smacking yourself over the head simply go out of fashion as a form of entertainment? Or was it more sinister? Was pressure brought to bear by worried parents who thought he was setting a bad example - after all, seeing someone causing themselves massive cranial contusions might encourage kiddies to do the same thing? (Actually, to be fair here, I have to admit that as a child, I did once hit myself over the head with a tray after seeing him on TV, so maybe there's some truth in this. I know that my mother wasn't too pleased - I put quite a dent in the tray).

There's no doubt that his act would never be allowed these days on health and safety grounds alone. Quite apart from the risk of children harming themselves in copycat incidents, there's no way any TV station in the UK would be able to broadcast footage of someone self-harming in this way. Which, of course, raises the question of exactly why a grown man would choose to publicly smash himself over the head with a blunt instrument? Was he suffering from some kind of psychiatric disorder? Was he gripped by an overwhelming urge to try and render himself senseless? Did he whack himself over the head whilst masturbating, or making love to his wife, (or did he smack her around the buttocks with a tray during the act, or is this just one of my fantasies)? Or was he just a poor bastard utterly desperate for fame, yet devoid of any discernible talent? In which case it's a pity he isn't still around, as he'd probably go down a storm on dross like Britain's Got Talent.

Whatever Happened To...Bill Clinton?

And not just Bill, but all former Presidents. I mean, what can you possibly do with your life which isn't an anti-climax after being the most powerful elected leader in the world? Go senile, like Reagan, I suppose. At least that saved him from the terrible knowledge that from the moment he gave up the Oval Office, his life was meaningless. Mind you, he probably thought that he was still President... But seriously, what can you do that can possibly match that adrenaline buzz which comes from having your finger on the button? Expose yourself in public parks, maybe? Like Eisenhower. Apparently he liked nothing better, in his declining years, than to stroll down Pennsylvania Avenue with his cock hanging out of his flies. It was the thrill of seeing if he got caught. The problem was that his Secret Service guards always made out sure that he didn't get caught. Not even that time he whipped it out in front of that party of nuns. They just paid them all off and confiscated their cameras. Others have gone the extreme sports route for post-Presidential fulfilment. Take Gerald Ford, for instance. In his retirement this much maligned President and lifelong naturist - it is a little known fact that he used to wander around the White House in the buff - turned to naked bear wrestling for thrills. Unbeaten in over a hundred contests, Ford continued this past-time well into his eighties, occasionally varying his activities to include eagle wrestling, otter boxing and no-holds barred Elephant grappling. He once even persuaded former Vice President Spiro Agnew to join him in a tag team match against a pack of ravenous weasels.

But getting back to our original subject: what does Bill Clinton do these days to while away the hours? Well, apart from dabbling with homosexuality in a well-publicised affair with ex-President George Bush Snr, he's been much in demand as a male escort. For ladies of a certain age, there can be no greater thrill than stepping out with the silver-haired charmer who now likes to put his finger on their button and tantalise them with the possibility of a pre-emptive strike. If they're really lucky, he lets them light up his cigar. However, his greatest success has been as a male model, modelling a range of trusses and male sex aids for magazines and catalogues, becoming something of a gay icon in the process. For Bill, the thrill lies in the knowledge that hundreds of thousands of men, up and down America, are admiring his body. "He believes that he's giving hope to other overweight, middle-aged guys, by showing them that they needn't be ashamed of their bodies, that they too, can be sex symbols," says former Clinton aide Harry Dingus. "He's also getting a big kick out of breaking down established sexual barriers - as many straight guys as gay apparently whack off over his pictures."

On this side of the pond, our political leaders have tended to content themselves with tending their roses once they've retired. With a few notable exceptions. Former Tory Premier Ted Heath was alleged to have pursued his ambition to play every Cathedral organ in the UK, naked, whilst one of his predecessors, Harold MacMillan cultivated a huge cannabis farm and became one of Britain's leading dealers, whilst publicly opposing the legalisation of weed, so as to keep his prices up. Mrs Thatcher, of course, has never been able to get used to not running a country. Her withdrawal symptoms got so bad that her son tried to acquire a new country for her via an attempted coup in Equatorial Guinea. All of which leads us, naturally, to the question of what Tony Blair is going to do with himself when he steps down as PM in a few weeks time. Sadly, the ravages of time and stress have taken their toll on his once boyish features, making a return to his former profession unlikely. It is a well known Westminster 'secret' that back in the 1980s, the Labour Party was so strapped for cash that Gordon Brown was sent to pimp Tony Blair to off-duty sailors in Portsmouth. The future Prime Minister was, apparently, somewhat reluctant at first, but some prompting from the Chancellor to be - "For God's sake, Tony, stop being such a prude and get your cock out" - soon turned him into a top earner. Whilst a return to the sex trade seems unlikely, it has been suggested that Blair is planning to enter the dangerous waters of religious missionary work, post Downing Street. Unconfirmed reports claim he is planning to risk life and limb to spread the 'Good Word' to the savage natives of Britain's inner cities. We wish him luck.

Whatever Happened To...The Beatles?

I know, I know - two of them died, one of them married a one-legged woman and the fourth became Thomas the Tank Engine. But what if things hadn't gone quite as well for the Fab Four back in the sixties as they actually did? What if they hadn't made so much money and had been forced to pursue other careers, post-Beatles? (No, I don't count bed-ins, films like Caveman and Wings as proper careers). What if John and George hadn't met untimely ends? A lot of 'what ifs', huh? Long, long ago, in a far off post, I recounted my nightmare vision of what John Lennon might be doing if he was alive today - presenting Songs of Praise. Yes indeed, white haired and wearing a roll neck sweater (but still sporting those Granny glasses), there he'd be every Sunday afternoon, sat in his rocking chair giving us a few bars of 'Imagine' on his guitar (accompanied by Yoko on tambourine), before introducing this week's service from some church in the arsehole of England.

I have no doubt that if this had ever come to pass, we'd have seen ITV sign up Paul McCartney to host its rival God-slot offering: Highway. Out would go ex-Goon Harry Secombe blasting out 'If I ruled the World' and blowing raspberries in between reading out letters from viewers chronicling how their faith enables them to endure the appalling afflictions, illnesses and maimings inflicted upon them by God, and in would come Macca treating us to 'Let it Be' on the organ of St Paul's cathedral - with the chorus sung by hundreds of assembled school children. Every Sunday would turn into a battle of rival Christian philosophies, with John and Yoko preaching their fundamentalist vision of the teachings of Christ (all loving thy neighbour and redistributing wealth), while Paul gave us his evangelical showbiz take on the faith (all glitz and glory of God, with a few miracles thrown in).

But what of George? Clearly, the only home for him would have been Channel Four in the days when it still had some integrity. He would doubtless have ended up presenting their alternative religious programme, showcasing those less-popular (in Britain), but peace loving creeds such as Buddhism, Hare Krishna and he like. Every week's show would wind up with him having a jamming session on sitars with a bunch of Tibetan monks or Eastern mystics, in a studio foggy with the smoke of a thousand joss sticks. That just leaves Ringo. Ah, Ringo! I fear that he'd have ended up presenting something like Booze Britain on FTN or some similar scuzzy digital channel. Truth be told, it would probably be mostly composed of his own home movies, as he staggers from pub to pub around London, before collapsing in a steaming heap outside the Savoy, as he awaited his chauffeur driven Rolls Royce, (complete with built-in bar). Mind you, it would surely still be preferable to ending up as the voice of a talking railway engine...

Whatever Happened to...Bird Flu?

It must have been six months since we last heard about bird flu. One minute it was going to kill us all horribly, the next it had vanished as completely as a TV talent show winner's career. I can't believe that there have been absolutely no cases of bird flu anywhere in the world for six months. I mean, the press had led me to believe that this was the most virulent disease since the Black Death and was rapidly spreading across Europe. Of course, that's probably the problem - it hasn't actually spread to Europe. Remember when every dead duck someone discovered was declared a biohazard and whisked off to secret government laboratories for analysis? Well, as I don't recall the press bothering to tell us what the results of these tests were, I can only assume they were negative. Once the immediate threat seems to have receded, the press just aren't interested.

Let's face it, for all we know people could be dying from bird flu in their thousands out in Asia, but the British press don't give a toss about them so are highly unlikely to report it. It's no coincidence that press interest in the story seemed to wane once it was established that the dead swan found in the UK actually hadn't died of the most deadly strain of bird flu. With no epidemic to hand, there was no panic to sell papers with, so they moved onto the next scare story. Right now the new threat is North Korea and its alleged nuclear test. Not only has this story got all the papers busy trying to work out how close to Buckingham Palace a North Korean missile could get a nuclear warhead, but it has even pushed the 'imminent' nuclear threat of Iran off of the front pages. Still, winter is coming on, so if a duck sneezes in the next couple of months, I daresay bird flu will make a comeback - perhaps in the shape of infected waterfowl delivered by No Dong missile...