Record 1: Birth

Inchcock was probably the first just under 3lb baby to have his mother tell the mid-wife to “Throw it in the Trent!”

Record 2: Absconding

He ran away from home at six years of age – gone for six hours, got scared and returned to a good belting. Not for running away that was encouraged, but for getting caught and the police bringing him back and waking up all the neighbours.

Not that the belting upset him, it was the fact that no one had missed him that hurt.

Record 3: Being forgotten by his Mother

He’s been told of, and some he can remember. The wash-house, the Bingo stalls, the Cinema, the Chip shop, and the relatives houses are just some of the places she left him to return later to collect him, or usuallt someone would take him back home.

The one he remembers with clarity was a day trip to Mablethorpe and she left him in an arcade and caught the train home. Give her credit though, she did remember when the train got into Lincoln and she informed the police. Who sent a PC to collect him and scare him to death giving him a lift in a black maria to Lincoln to be rejoined with his mother who wanted to know immediately if he’s won anything on the machines.

Record 4: Boxing

Young Inchcock believes he still holds the record for any boxer at the Meadows Old Boys Club – he lost every bout and never got beyond the second round.

Record 5: Football

He definitely holds the record as their goalkeeper, albeit as stand in when they played Corpus Christie School in a cup match. He still insists that the third of the thirteen goals they scored was not his fault.

Record 6: Go-Karting

He was the first person to tip over a Go-Kart at the new amenity in Skegness.

Record 7: Falling asleep

Perhaps one of his best records and least challenged by others was his trip to Mansfield for a job interview by bus.

He fell asleep and woke up at Chesterfield, where he had to pay the extra fare of course.

He got soaked in the rain waiting for a bus back to Mansfield.

He then fell asleep on that one and got off at Sutton in Ashfield.

Again he got soaked waiting for a bus to Mansfield.

When he arrived at the interview they told him he’s got the wrong day it should have been the day before!

Record 8: Shot

He was the only Security Guard in 1988 to get shot by an intruder.

Record 9: Hernia repair

When he went into hospital to have his hernia tended to, they found he had bladder cancer, haemorrhoids and a prostate growth.

He still wonders how they found the haemorrhoids problem?

Record 10: In and out of hospital

When he went in to have his new mechanical ticker valve done, they told him he’s be in for three to four nights.

After two nights they told him the bed was needed for an emergency and sent him home. He had to ring his sister and brother in law to give him a lift. Agony!

There are probably many more records that he holds, but he only got as far as this when he had to run to the WC and fell up the stairs.

The paramedic is with him now.

Stanley Matthews, or Jonah?

Where I was working at the time

It was on a very heavy muddy wet playing field come pitch, come quagmire on Melbourne Road Park in Nottingham that I made my first (and only) appearance in the Nottingham Thursday Football League, for the Nottingham Co-op Society Butchery Team.

It was not a planned appearance – although I had paid my 3/6d (17½p) annual subscriptions to the Nottingham Co-op Butchers Thursday League Team (in those days most food shops used to close half-day on a Thursday) I never really expected to get chosen for the team, and used to go around with my kit in a carrier bag, just in case of emergencies or injuries to any of the other lads. I used to come in handy for making the half time brew, bucket and sponge stand-in, first aider, and general toss-pot/spare prick.

That was until a Thursday, in 1961, after about two years of following them, in the hope of ever getting a game like a lamb. (By then I’d given up even taking my kit with me).

When to my astonishment, I was asked to play in a cup match against ‘Wigfall’s First Eleven’. (Wigfall’s Rentals was the forerunner to Curry’s for those who cannot remember) The reason for this request was partly that the horrible weather had deterred many of the regular lads from turning up, and my exceptional footballing skills coming to their attention. (Okay I lied about my exceptional footballing skills coming to their attention!)

I recall going around scrounging bits of tackle from all the lads – and what a sight I must have looked!

The shin pads must have been made for Godzilla, the black shorts dangled below my knees, it took me five minutes to roll up the sleeves of the black & white striped shirt to my fingertips, and the best they could do to get me a pair of size 8 boots, was a size 10 pair – and they were split down the side, the studs came through to the soles of my feet, they hadn’t been worn for so long, the leather didn’t bend anywhere! We found some old rope to use as boot laces.

And there I was, feeling proud and chuffed, but looking stupid, ready for my surprise début in Nottingham’s Thursday League!

Was the world ready for this I thought!

Into the fray!

Obviously not the actual bucket. But it did look just like this one here

The bad luck started as I ran out of the locker-room (I say locker room! it was the groundsman’s old tool shed really) I tripped over the step, causing the nails in the studs to dig into me foot – but that pain soon disappeared when I landed face down (I still had to carry the bucket of water and sponge to the touch line you see, they insisted) banging me head on the rusty bucket, then as I was just getting over the embarrassment of my and the opposition’s team’s inane laughter at me, I became aware through the onset of pain in me left leg, that a mongrel dog was chewing on it!

Apart from the fact that these boots are softer, cleaner, have laces in and are a different colour, they are like the ones wot I wore!

Back to the changing room (tool shed) to clean myself up a bit, stop the bleeding, and put some cardboard between my feet and the rigid leather stud-nails intruding crippling oversized boots!

Being the little warrior that I was, I soon returned to commence my chance to impress on the field!

This plan somewhat fell down a few minutes after the referee allowed me onto the quagmire of a field – I was to play at left back, and seconds after taking to the field, trudging through the mud, I managed to lose a boot!

This picture reminds me of the day.

This did not stop my tackling this 16 stone, shire horse-like hurricane of a Wigfall’s forward who was belting towards goal, with the football looking like a marble at his feet, (God knows how he actually managed to run in that quagmire) from facing one of my best ever crunching tackles.

Not that I remember much about it, until the St Johns ambulance man bought me back to consciousness, and bandaged me broken ankle, and stopped me split eye from bleeding, in readiness to take me the hospital.

Apparently, they tell me, the wondrous Wigfall’s giant centre-forward had just put out his hands out knocking me over into the mud, trampled over me and scored a goal!

The ref didn’t even acknowledge any foul, blew and pointed to the centre circle to restart the match. (He probably thought better of upsetting the man-mountain forward… wise ref that!)

I was never asked to play for them again – the team lost four – nil.

But I was allowed back to carry on (When I got out of hospital) as bucket and sponge man.

I think their writing Jonah on the petrol tank of me motorbike was naughty.