Alan Day - The Biography

Subject: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Will Fly
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 08:41 AM

Alan Day - the Biography

The facts of Alan Day's life and antecedents have never been disclosed to the public and so, in the spirit of true biographical research and documentation for posterity, I am laying out the facts, as I understand them, for the general public.

Little is known of his paternal line before the appearance in Grimsby, in 1912 of Icelandic cod fisherman Oharpi Deyya. Oharpi, then aged 32, had spent many years in the North Sea, shuttling between various fishing boats, both Icelandic and English. Eventually, tiring of the maritime life, he disembarked in Grimsby for the last time and moved to south London, where he Anglicised his surname to Day and took up work as an itinerant goatherd. In 1913, he met Casabianca Perkins who, some years previously had also sailed before the mast, on collier brigs plying between Newcastle and Yarmouth. It was on these brigs that she spent many happy moments shelling peas (a penny a peck) to pass the time. Oharpi and Casabianca married in 1914.

Alan Day - Parental Marriage Certificate

So it was that, on April 1st 1914, Alan Day came into this world in a goatherd's small but cosy tin hut on the fringes of rough farmland in Streatham. Born with prehensile middle fingers, which allowed him to pick his nose and scratch the back of his neck simultaneously, Alan was a precocious child - a precocity which was beaten out of him fairly early in life. More children followed after Alan, and the tin hut - full of goats and kids - grew cramped and uncomfortable. In 1928, at the age of 14, Alan left home and, through the influence of his father, gained a position as a junior clerk in the Mordern branch of the Dogger Bank. There then followed several mundane and humdrum years until, in 1946, he found his true vocation. The story is worth recounting in full.

Alan had been discharged from his job for slight flaws in his accounting procedures which, unaccountably, had left the Bank a little poorer and him a little richer. Wandering late on dark night from pub to pub in the wildernesses of Purley, pockets stuffed with treasury notes, he fell in with bad company, got very drunk and passed out in the street. While he snored in the gutter, a band of Morris dancers fell out of the local pub and proceeded to give an impromptu performance on the nearby pavement. Roused by the noise, Alan started to sing at the top of his voice, "While I lay there in the gutter, far too drunk to even mutter..." One of the Morris men, annoyed at the interruption, shied his instrument - which happened to be an ancient and battered Anglo concertina - into the dark in Alan's direction. It hit Alan squarely on the ear and, picking up the concertina, Alan quickly got to his feet and made off as fast as he could.

The rest, as we know, is history. From early performances busking to the theatre crowds in Sidmouth, impromptu floor spots in dingy little folk clubs and outbursts of riotous behaviour in sessions in East London pubs, Alan very quickly made a name for himself as a red-nosed comedian, a stage drunk and - in spite of total deafness in his right ear - a passable player on the Anglo concertina. In 1951, he fell in with a roving band of musicians wearing striped jerseys and stinking of Comté cheese and vin jaune at the Festival of Britain exhibition. I should explain that the phrase "fell in with" should be taken literally. Alan, pissed as ever, was attempting to climb the Skylon. Naturally, he lost his footing and fell headlong on to the Musette de Cour belonging to one of the musicians. Having found what turned out to be a band of travelling skivers posing as French musicians, he refused to leave them and was, after some chaffering and passing of money from hand to hand, taken on as road manager and part-time concertina player.

From those early times, Alan's name has become the household word it is today, and it has been my privilege since 2009 to support him (i.e. hold him up) at gigs all over the country. In the next few days, Alan retires to Shottisham in Suffolk to become, like his father before him, a part-time goatherd in a small cottage next door to the local pub, the "Sorrell Horse". I wish him well - and look forward to accompanying him for the opening night at a new folk club in the pub in the very near future.

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Bounty Hound
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 08:46 AM

We're looking forward to seeing him around in sunny Suffolk!

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Will Fly
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 08:58 AM

Good for you - but keep an eye on the local women, any stray sheep and the pub till.

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Deckman
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 09:06 AM

To Quote W.C. Fields: "YE GODS AND LITTLE FISHES". bob(deckman)nelson

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Vic Smith
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 10:16 AM

Will Fly wrote:-
From early performances.... impromptu floor spots in dingy little folk clubs

Mr. Fly,

I would have you know that Mr. Day has performed on hundreds of occasions over the years, both as a guest and floor performer, at the esteemed musical emporiums that I have been responsible for, yet you see fit to denigrate these revered establishments as dingy little folk clubs.
I have to put it to you, Mr. Fly, that I strongly resemble such remarks and regard then as a slander of my entreprenerial efforts. You will be hearing from my solicitor (... or my wife who wants you to accompany her on another song).

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Will Fly
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 10:21 AM

The Royal Oak in Lewes is a veritable palazzo when compared with some of the pits that Al's played in.

Anyway, who cares - tell your missis to email me any time she fancies it.

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Alan Day
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 05:06 PM

My word when it's all laid out on paper it brings it home to you.
Will you forgot to mention my War wounds the nasty one I got in The Clapham Junction and of course the one we never talk about in the Tooting Broadway.
Al

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Will Fly
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 05:13 PM

I thought it best to gloss over your war service, Al...

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Vic Smith
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 05:53 PM

He was up to his neck in muck and concertina reeds.

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: TheSnail
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 06:03 PM

Will, you forgot to mention that Alan shares his birthday with his ancestor the legendary Icelandic explorer Loof Lirpa.

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: katlaughing
Date: 27 Feb 12 - 11:38 PM

LMAO!! Oh, Will...where were you when we had the story threads going? Talk about taking the piss...grandfather was a muff diver?!**BG**

Alan, it is so very good and brave of you to allow this bio. I'm assuming it is an "authorised biography," yes? Will there be a book come of it...the fuller length version with your own anecdotal lies stories?

katspellboundafterspittingteaonthekeyboard

Subject: RE: Alan Day - The Biography
From: Will Fly
Date: 28 Feb 12 - 04:45 AM

Ah Kat, Kat - in these days of the cultivated muff, it's often forgotten what a dangerous and rare occupation muff diving was in the closing years of the 19th century. The wild muff was not to be treated lightly and, when cornered, was a force to be reckoned with. It was popular for young men of fashion* to take it up as a sport, but for the true professional diver - the shy hero of the deeps - grace, speed and athleticism all combined in a rare combination. You can see it in Alan to this day.

Woe betide the hapless and inexperienced diver who, staying down too long and lingering on the fringes of the os pubis, got the bends and had to be brought up, a little at a time, to the surface. And all this in the days before oxygen tanks. As a young man, before the gout overtook me, I indulged somewhat in it. But this is all in the past and all I have now to take me back to those dear days is that classic, mid-Victorian work - just 69 pages long - by Sir Harry Tuchas: "Observations On The Wild Muff". I have a copy somewhere, in amongst my collection of works on the Mammaria Ponderosa.

We old men have little but our memories - and I'm also burdened with Alan's.

* It's said that young women indulged in the practice, but Queen Victoria did not believe that this was possible.