Interesting. I heard Bert tell the story about the kush maker in February 1973, at a series of lectures which had been organised by the Bluecoat Chambers Department of extra-mural studies in Liverpool.

According to Bert, when he shipped aboard a whaler at Bromborough, which he incorrectly located as being in Liverpool(it was actually in Chershire), the crew was joined by a Dane called Klempson. At the shipping office, he was asked what his trade was. He said "Why, I'm the kush maker, Sir".

The clerk, rather than show his ignorance, signed him up.

Once aboard, various of the ships officers, all the way up to the captain, asked his trade. Each in turn was told "Why, I'm the kush maker, Sir". Each preferred not to show his ignorance.

Klempson was given a hold all to himself (and bear in mind, Bert had taken about ten minutes to get this far). From there he requisitioned all manner of materials, including wood, scaffolding, and some sort of gooy breakfast cereal which the crew refused to eat.

Naturally, Klempson wouldn't let anybody into the hold to see his fantastic construction. meanwhile everybody on the ship was waiting with bated breath to see this thing.

Eventually, Klempson asked for the doors of the hold to be cleared and the winch to be lowered inside. Then, with much handsignalling, easy does it, and left hand down a touch, the contraption emerged. According to Bert it was the most fantastic thing he'd ever seen, a mass of gooyed honeycomb, smeared over an assembleage of netting and masts and spars and broken yards, and 4*2 and 8*4.

Klempson gave the order to swing this thing over the side. Then, before instructing the winch driver to release the chains. He said, "Now Listen Everybody".

Bert said, "As Klempson's creation hit the water, we all heard it. It went KUSSSSSSH!!!"

There was a preamble to this story, which I forget in its entirity. However, it involved the venereal disease test which the sailors had to undergo before they could sign the ship's articles. One poor sod had just come back from the far east, and didn't want the examination. "I've been on the flying fish run" he said, "And you can't lean against the side of the ship out there without getting a soft shanker. What kind of a miserable crew have I signed up with, that you'd begrudge your mate a bottle of piss."