When someone dies unexpectedly there is often an air of unfinished business in the grieving.

The conversation you never had, the return of the borrowed book, the holiday we were planning, the retirement days taken away, the football match we were going to.

All suddenly whipped away.

There is a particular story I wish I shared with my very recently departed brother before he left us. It dates back to 1963. This story stayed with us all our lives and was indeed referenced by him specifically in a short speech in at my wedding in 2007.

Let me set the scene. Bath time in the Roberts household. A young mother has her two sons in the bath together. Anthony (moi) is 3 years old at one end of the bath tub, his brother, Philip is 4 years old and at the other end of the bath tub. She is washing their hair.

A large, perfectly formed, brown turd appears. Rather than float listlessly, it seems to take off and circles round the bath perhaps propelled by the efforts to avoid it. The mother takes chase. Much chaos and shouting as the escaping faeces hurries on its slippery way in an attempt to avoid capture. Eventually it succumbs to the inevitable and is hoisted clear by the triumphant mother.

The post-mortem begins almost immediately. My mother asks me directly pointing the finger she says “Was that you?” To which I answer directly “No”. What I should have said is slightly different. As in “Yes”.

My brother was flabbergasted. He knew it was me.

I had always imagined I would fess up to him at some stage in our adult lives but alas this opportunity was taken away a couple of weeks back.

What better way to set the record straight then at an event inspired by his own creative genius. In his guide as Modal Roberts. Phil invented the new art form of Alternative Karaoke.

At alternative karaoke you’re not obliged to sing the original lyrics. You can sing whatever lyrics you like. The more creative the better. Phil famously once presented the speeches of Neville Chamberlain to the tune of Maggie May by Rod Stewart. You can perform poetry, tell stories, make things up on the spot. It’s a platform for experimentation without judgement.

I shall be relating my own story at this event to the tune of Downtown by Petula Clark. It’s starts like this (please sing along)... “When I was three, he was sat next to me, and we were in the bath .. Bathtime”

ALT KARAOKE NIGHT

IN CELEBRATION OF MODEL ROBERTS

SATURDAY 27 OCTOBER

COLCHESTER ARTS CENTRE

ALL WELCOME