I wonder if this has ever happened to you. My old friend and workmate, Ash, was flying in to Heathrow from Australia, where he now lives, and I was going to meet him at the airport as a surprise. To complete the experience, I decided to adopt the appearance of those chauffeurs who meet people outside Arrivals and take them to their business meetings.
I dug out my tiredest suit (ok, my suit) and made a sign with a name on it that I thought would make him chuckle. A few crossed my mind – you know, Doug Graves, Babara Seville, all that lot, along with their more outré counterparts like Hugh Jarse and Betty Swollox – but I decided that was too purile (yes, even for me!). I needed something that wouldn’t attract the attention of the cops with automatic rifles but would raise a smile from Ash.
In the end I settled on Keith Houchen, the former Coventry City striker who scored a famous diving header in the 1987 FA Cup Final to beat Spurs. It was the last great FA Cup Final before the whole thing got watered down and Ash, being a Coventry City fan, was in the crowd at Wembley that day.
So there I was, standing behind the rope outside the sliding doors in Terminal 3, feeling very proud of my get-up and my silly sign and smirking to myself at the thought of Ash’s face when he clocked it. Just as it was getting to the time when I expected him to appear, the doors slid open and who should come through but the real Keith Houchen.
Before I had time to hide my sign, he strode up to me, said, “Hi, I’m Keith,” and handed me his bag. I couldn’t turn round and say, “Sorry, Keith, I’m waiting for someone else.” The sign clearly said ‘Keith Houchen’. So I had to play along.
“Not the usual limo then?” he remarked sardonically in his Teesside drawl, as he squeezed his six foot one inch frame into the back of my VW Beetle. I muttered some excuse about my real car being at the menders and drove slowly, as I imagined a chauffeur would, out into the evening traffic.
I couldn’t stop wondering about Ash coming through Customs to find nobody waiting for him, not to mention the driver who’d been sent along to pick up Keith Houchen. Maybe they’d meet up and work something out.
“You’ve got the address all right?” came Keith from the back seat.
“Er, can you just confirm it for me?” I asked.
To cut a long story short, I ended up driving Keith Houchen all the way to Middlesbrough, rather than taking Ash the seven-and-a half-miles to Walton-on-Thames for a nice drink with our old friend and workmate Will. All because of a silly little prank.
Of course, none of this actually happened but it very easily could and it’s a timely warning. I’m off to meet Ash at Heathrow for real tonight and I don’t want to end up in Middlesbrough. But then I thought, what if I chose the name of someone who lives somewhere closer and more salubrious? I could get myself in to some really swanky places. So I’m going with King Charles III. I’ll let you know how I get on.
