Tag Archives: John Cleese

All Over The Shop (part 1)

Mark Arbuckle: Glasgow October 2021

Following my stint as a Saturday boy at Burtons in Sauchiehall St, in 1977 I transferred to Burtons’ flagship store along with my friend and colleague Charlie to join the management training scheme.

BURTONS FLAGSHIP STORE ON THE CORNER OF ARGYLE ST AND BUCHANAN ST


The Manager at Argyle St, Max Black (who was rumoured to be married into the Burton family) looked like a thinner, pinstriped John Cleese. 

6’6″ tall and 4 foot of that was legs! He also had incredibly long arms and size 13 feet…more on those feet later.

One busy Saturday I was on ‘shop lifter spotting duty’ (no electronic tags in those days,  (Burtons were far too stingy to install them anyway) at the front door. I spotted a well known thief and gave the agreed alert to Charlie ‘Is Mr Thomas back from lunch yet?’ or something equally banal!

Max also heard my coded message and reacted like a coiled spring bounding up the stairs to a half landing to gain a better vantage point! Unfortunately he tripped on the first step and sprawled flat out with his telescopic arms in front of him! He covered the entire 13 stairs with startled customers stepping over him in both directions! I don’t know what happened to the shoplifter as Charlie and I were doubled over laughing!

Every Tuesday morning the branch was closed from 9-9.45 for Staff Training.
Max had just returned from a Mangers’ meeting and was eager to impart his new information to us.
The entire staff was gathered on the 1st Floor around the Made to Measure desks with it’s high stools. Max was telling us about a new concept of Individual Staff Responsibility. In other words the sales floors were to be divided up into smaller depts and each staff member had to maintain, stock and merchandise it. Sales per square foot would be monitored and you could earn a bonus at the end of every month. (the scheme lasted less time than it’s taken you to read this!!) 

Anyway to demonstrate how to calculate ‘Square Footage’ Max proudly held up his size 13 shoe and said ‘My shoe is a foot in length, so it’s easy to work out square footage!’ 

He then began walking heel to toe and counting out ‘One, two, three…but when he got to five he began to lose his balance, struggled to stay on track and lurched sideways disappearing through the open door that led to the staircase! 

He just lurved those stairs!! 

Most of the staff who had been dozing up to that point burst into laughter! 

Even wee John, the head of the Made to Measure dept. was suddenly alert!
Wee John had been with Burtons for about 30 years and was nearing retirement.
He could be a bit curmudgeonly with the yung-uns but I got on well with him. 

Why? 

Because we shared a secret….

One morning I was early, a very rare occurrence, and was walking down Buchanan St. when I spotted him looking into John Menzies window about 50 yards from Burtons. 

‘Morning JOHN!’ 

I loudly greeted him. 

He started to choke and splutter, turning an alarming shade of purple! It was only then that I noticed a cigarette half hidden in his cupped right hand. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked as he frantically waved me away. 

He cornered me at tea break and asked if I could keep our earlier encounter just between the two of us, which of course I agreed to.

It was the shop’s worst kept secret that John smoked as anyone who used the staff toilet after him would attest. 

You could cut the smoke with a knife! 

He’d smoked all his life but had recently experienced some heart problems and had promised his doctor, his family and his formidable wife Anne, who also worked for Burtons that he had quit! 

When I say Anne was formidable she was about 5′ and weighed 7 stone but OMG she could destroy anybody with a couple of vicious words. However she liked me and I did feel kinda guilty about keeping John’s ‘not so secret’ secret.

After the summer sale the store was getting a bit of a refit so Max asked George the assistant manager, Charlie and myself to come in on a Sunday (no Sunday trading in those days) to work on the refit.
George was a big, easy going, amiable guy probably in his mid 50’s with a passing resemblance to John Le Mesurier. 

He never got flustered and was quite happy to play second fiddle to a succession of (poor) managers.

The shop had floor to ceiling windows and our task was to place 12′ aluminium poles into pre set fixings in the floor about a yard from the glass. Then place 8′ x 4′ boards in between the poles to create a wall onto to which metal shelves and/or rails could be attached.  

The side facing the window was used for mannequins and displays.
The boards were very heavy and had metal pegs on the sides about 8″ from both ends which slotted into holes in the poles and tightened with a screwdriver.  

It was cumbersome work and took all four of us to manoeuvre each board into place. Charlie and I lifted the board a foot off the floor and guided the pegs into the bottom two slots while Max and George were both up ladders and had the same task to secure the top two. 

We had successfully erected three boards but the fourth was proving very tricky.
Charlie and I had secured the bottom two but George’s side wouldn’t line up so we disconnected them again and tried to get all four inserted simultaneously. 

We were ‘cussin’ ‘n’ fightin’ my friend’ but to no avail. 

We took a break and examined the problem. The slot on George’s side of the board was misaligned so the only solution was to force it in. We tried again and George said that the problem was he couldn’t tighten the slot because it was off kilter. 

Suddenly Max from the top of his ladder exclaimed 

‘I’VE GOT A BIG RED ONE!!!  

Charlie and I dropped the board causing George to nearly fall off his ladder. The three of us were crying with laughter while nonplussed Max muttered something about ‘it being in his car’. 

He left and came back shortly with a big red screwdriver which, to be fair to him, did the trick.
We finished the job with no further issues, although every now and again Charlie and I would catch each other’s eye and descend into fits of giggles once more.

A couple of week’s later Max decided to get the Sunday ‘band back together’ (more overtime!)The task this time was to clear old shop fittings out of the basement. 
To do this we had to carry them up a flight of stairs, out onto the street where there was a door on the side of the building that led to a lift down to a sub basement and then narrow sloping stairs to an area that was basically just a hole in the floor. 

I hadn’t even realised that this area existed before then. George did however and started to tell us stories about Rodents of Unusual Size!!


The first four hours, though hard and physical, went by without incident. Later we were nearly done for the day when one of the last heavy, cash-desk units jammed in the steep, narrow staircase leading to the sub basement level which Max had insisted we filled up first. 

Charlie being the smallest managed to squeeze between the bulky unit and the sloping roof of the stairwell hoping to release whatever was making it jam. He quickly succeeded… but too well really as the heavy unit slid down the stairs trapping him between the piles of stuff we’d already placed there.
‘Don’t panic Captain Mainwaring’


The unit’s new angle made it impossible for Charlie to climb back over the obstruction and he had no room to manoeuvre behind him. George, Max and I started to haul at the bloody thing trying in vain to pull it back up the steep slope.

No chance! 

After 15 minutes our arms were aching and it hadn’t budged.
Should we get a rope? Would we have to phone the Fire Brigade? This was bad!

I suddenly realised that Charlie had gone very quiet in his imprisoned area. ‘Charlie are you ok?’ I asked but didn’t get a reply. ‘Charlie stop messing (he didn’t say ‘messing’) about’ shouted George, but still no answer.
We exchanged worryingly looks….Then there was a loud bang and Charlie’s head appeared through a trapdoor hidden from us by old cardboard SALE signs about 10 feet from where we stood! He was filthy and covered in cobwebs but was apparently unharmed. 

He gave Max a look that said ‘Ye canny get rid of me that easily!

By Autumn ’78 I’d completed my first year of management training and had been asked to join the Burtons Group new, young fashion concept Top Man. I jumped at the chance.

They would open their first Scottish branch in the  basement sales floor of Burtons! (Yes the same basement I’d helped to clear the previous year!)

Top Man would have it’s own distinct branding and identity, and carry stock aimed at a much younger, trendier market. We were also given window space on the ground floor, much to Max’s disgust.

He did however say he was sorry to lose me and wished me well, but cautioned me saying ‘It wouldn’t last!’….

Part 2 of All Over The Shop and how I met a famous porn star through working at Top Man to follow next week…..

naughty boy

(Post by John Allan, from Bridgetown, Western Australia – March 2021)

I will endeavour to present this article to you, the general public, without the use of quotes. Thank you.

“It’s !……………….” Ah, false start.

We kids of the 60s were brought up on a numbing TV diet of the crass and corny. Think “The Dick Emery Show”, “On The Buses” and “Steptoe & Son”. The bland – “Charlie Drake”, “Harry Worth”, “Hugh & I” and the innuendo strewn and mildly titillating “Carry On” films “Up Pompeii” and of course “The Benny Hill Show”. There were a few stand outs – “Dads Army”, “The Likely Lads” but on average our comedic viewing was……………………… well, average.

“Monty Python’s Flying Circus” emerged from the ashes of “The Frost Report”, “At Last the 1948 Show” and “Do Not Adjust Your Set” in 1969 but didn’t come to my attention until a couple of years later. It continued the surreal elements of “Peter Cook and Dudley Moore” and Spike Milligan’s “Q”. It became an unexpected success.

“Nobody expects the Spanish…………………………….” No !

Five ‘Oxbridge’ dons and a Yank cartoonist wrote, created and performed a sketch show which stretched the boundaries of what we had previously known and witnessed. This was no traditional nor conventional comedy sketch show with a beginning, middle and end. Continuity was abandoned, chaos was unleashed and we teenagers lapped it up.

This was our generation’s comedy, our Beatles and Stones moment of hilarity and mirth and best of all……………………….our parents didn’t get it !

“Turn that rubbish off !”

“Isn’t there snooker on the other side ?”

I think the show went to air on a Thursday evening and on Friday morning, the registration class was a buzz with soliloquising falsetto voices. Come recess, a pit of 4th year Python prodigy would slither sideways across the playground in a great arc flicking it’s tail and baring it’s fangs at any stray juniors with a caustic Cleese like come down.

We would then curl up in a huddle to re-enact the previous evening’s episode. We must have looked like a convention of young Tourette sufferers with our silly walks and Gumby impressions. (Having a knitted tank top, I was half way there already !)

Cross country running was the staple of many a PE class. Off  twenty odd gangling teenagers would trot around Kilmardinny loch a few times, sufficient to fill a double period. A group of us would hang back and turn a sharp left up to Graeme’s basement for a few tracks of “Another Monty Python Record”, it’s cover a crude crayon scratching out of Beethoven 2nd Symphony in D Major, then rejoin the stragglers 15 minutes later in our Upper Class Twit of the Year personas.

“Simon-Zinc-Trumpet-Harris, married to a very attractive table lamp………..” Oops !

The 70s brought us the cinematic “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” and the iconic “Life of Brian” with all it’s ridiculous accusations of blasphemy. What could be better publicity than rabbis and nuns protesting with placards !

Sadly the circus packed up and left town. Cleese to the equally iconic ‘Fawlty Towers’ then basically any film that required his cameo. Palin went off on his travels. Gilliam became one of the leading film directors of the time. Idle tried to revive some sketches on Broadway and Chapman and Jones left the stage altogether.

“’E’s expired and gone to meet…………………….”  Sorry !

The word pythonesque is now the standard bearer for anything deemed as ‘surreal comedy’.

Even today, when I pick up the axe to chop some fire wood, I can’t help humming to myself the first few lines of “I’m a Lumberjack”. Or maybe the smirk is because… 

“I cut down trees, I wear high heels

Suspendies and a bra

I wish I’d been a girlie, just like my dear Papa”…………………………..damn it !

Who can’t resist on hearing the final refrain of Sousa’s “Liberty Bell” blowing that squelching raspberry.

Or is it just me with my highfalutin ideas ?

Come on. I know you want to say it. In your best falsetto voice now……………

“He’s not the Messiah, he’s a very naughty boy !”