Читать книгу It’s Not What You Think and Memoirs of a Fruitcake 2-in-1 Collection - Chris Evans - Страница 39

10 Big and Good Productions (my first production company)

9 Gambon and Defreites (the private detective agency I set up with my friend Michael)

8 The Great Car Company (my first foray into the classic car market)

7 Umtv

6 Ginger Television

5 Ginger Radio

4 Ginger Productions

3 The Ginger Media Group*

2 Ginger Air (an aviation company that never got off the ground)

1 Kinkies Kissograms

I began scouring the small ads for any opportunities that might be slightly more on the entertainment side of the employment fence. In my attempt to show business my way back above the breadline I applied for a job at Bunnies Kissograms in Chester. They charged £18 a time, of which the kissogram received half. I liked the sound of that but unfortunately they didn’t like the look of me; I was more Jane than Tarzan, they said.

I returned to Warrington where kissograms might as well have been spaceships—they just didn’t happen. ‘A gap in the market if ever I saw one,’ I thought, and immediately placed my own ad in the local paper:

KINKIES KISSOGRAMS—THE SKINNIEST TARZANS IN TOWN

The kissograms that I’d witnessed were all very well but the biggest laugh was achieved when the kissogram first revealed themselves to their subject. After the initial shock it was all downhill. I decided herein lay a further opportunity and what I lacked in muscle I would make up for with humour.

I devised a sequence that got funnier and funnier as it went on as opposed to fading out. My act was based around three balloons, a carving knife, a little teddy, a raw sausage, lots of cream and a blindfold on the girl; I also played the guitar and sang her a personalised song—all for six quid! It was cheap but I had to get the product out there. I had to make sure the cost was not an issue. If I was a hit then I could hike the prices all in good time.

Warrington soon woke up to the hilarity of the kissogram and before I knew it, I was up to seven or eight kissograms a night at the weekends. I soon doubled my prices as I’d planned and even brought in a couple of pals to help out with the engagements. I remember exactly where I was on the night of Live Aid when Madonna came on stage, I was pulling up in my car to Orford Park Recreation Club ready for another semi-naked performance of my own.

The kissograms were a means to an end and it wasn’t long before I had saved up enough money to enter the realms of the mobile disc jockey.

I bought all the gear required for a mobile disco and secured some regular pub dates, I became resident in one pub—seven nights a week! I convinced the publican that every night would be better with music and that if he let me leave my gear there, I would do four nights for free. This meant I didn’t have to haul all the gear round all week; it also meant I could sell my van and buy an MG Roadster instead. In all I was soon doing nine discos a week, seven nights in the pub and then two later on at clubs on a Friday and Saturday.

The discos were good business but another test of my resolve was just around the corner. At Christmas all the mobile DJs could charge a premium for their ‘shows’ and a pretty hefty one at that. You could easily make enough money for a decent holiday abroad during the festive season.

It was two days before my first Christmas booking when, still living with my Mum, I was on the way home late one night after working at a club. I had invested in a Datsun estate car by now, my record collection was getting bigger and although my turntables, speakers and lights didn’t need to move I had to take my records wherever I was appearing.

It was around three o’clock in the morning and I couldn’t have been more than a mile from home when I heard my exhaust blowing—at least that’s what it sounded like, it was really loud. ‘Strange,’ I thought, but it soon became evident what the problem was when I pulled up to park outside our house. Somehow the tailgate on my car had come open, which was why the exhaust seemed so loud. Not only that but to my utter disbelief, somewhere on the way home my entire record collection had fallen out.

I was stunned, I couldn’t believe what had happened. To a DJ his record collection is everything, you have to have all the records for all ages of clientele, from the waltzes for the oldies through the sixties and seventies right up until the latest top twenty, as well as the novelty records for the kids. My diary was booked up all over Christmas and I had just lost every single record I owned.

*At its peak this company was part of an organisation worth over £1,000,000,000 pounds. How mad is that?