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Early Birthdays.


Today, I went to my comedy partner Glyn's son's first birthday party.

While we were there, my wife asked me when my last first birthday party was. I told her I couldn’t remember, but it was probably in the early 1980s. I just don’t have many one-year-old friends.

Most of the parties from my childhood revolved around fast food. It seemed more glamorous then. Many took place at the Wimpy in Stevenage. It looked like an unstoppable chain. How wrong could we be?

They were simple and innocent times. Back then, I didn’t find their Bender in a Bun even remotely amusing.

The highlight was an appearance from Mr Wimpy himself: a terrifying Beefeater-alike with a head that took up at least fifty percent of his body. Thankfully, these weren’t his real features. It was someone in a skin suit. Presumably whichever staff member drew the short straw that day.

Maybe it was the company’s CEO? Whoever it was, they left an indelible mark on my memory. Eating in Wimpy was my ‘Nam. You should’ve been there, man. You should have been there.

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