Chapter 13

The Brummie Walk of Fame

So, a few weeks later, in a blaze of publicity, the family drove to Birmingham.

The ceremony was to take place in an outdoor square near to the landmark Town Hall. Crowds of rockers had gathered in the square hours before the afternoon ceremony.

A giant screen had been erected showing some of Cuch’s best performances. The crowd was thoroughly enjoying the entertainment and although rowdy, it was all good-natured.

After being welcomed by officials, the family were taken to a private area at the side of the big screen.

“I know we’ve said the word ‘bonkers’ before,” Alex said, “but this is a new level of bonkersness. This has to be one of our most bonkers days.”

And he cast an eye towards the overly dressed council official next to them. The expensive chain and fine regalia was in sharp contrast to the denims and leathers preferred by the audience.

Alex had to at least admire the official’s courage, walking out onto a stage in a feathery hat, trying to preserve civic dignity in front of an excited rock crowd.

Cuch stayed close to Lucas. His ears were pricked up and he was enjoying the music which was being broadcast in the open air.

“Oh no,” Janine said. “Look who’s there.”

Alex and Lucas followed her gaze to the row of journalists jostling for position in a roped off area at the front of the stage.

There was Alan Greyman, clutching his notepad, looking irritable, hopelessly out of place and way out of his comfort zone.

He stuck out like a sore thumb and looked ridiculous, too neatly dressed in his old man suit in front of hundreds of rock fans.

Cuch and his family were moved to the private area to meet the reporters.

One after another the questions were fired at the family:

“How’s Cuch enjoying his fame?”

“Does he have any new dance moves?”

“Where’s his next gig?”

Then Mr Greyman piped up: “Don’t you think having a dog (and he kind of spat out the word ‘dog’ with contempt) on the Walk of Fame is insulting to all the real stars?”

Before the family could answer, one female journalist quickly cut in with, “Don’t you think it’s typical that on such a fun occasion there’s always one who tries to spoil it?”

Lucas liked her.

Everyone laughed and Greyman looked flushed and angry. He was not one of the journalists who asked if they could stroke Cuch that day.

After the press conference the council chairman took to the stage braving the laughter and inappropriate comments from the crowd about his fine regalia.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to our historic city.” (Cheers from the crowd).

“Today we have an unusual addition to our Walk of Fame. We celebrate that a new star was discovered in our great city - a star who will keep Birmingham firmly on the map.

A special dog called Cooch... (‘Cuch!’ shouted the crowd) ... was found wandering the streets of Aston - the home of another famous Brummie on our Walk of Fame - Ozzy Osbourne (huge cheers from the crowd).

“Cooch... (‘Cuch!’ shouted the crowd)... has gone on to achieve world wide fame for his dancing.

“Today we are proud to have him installed for all eternity on our Birmingham Walk of Fame.

“It gives me great pleasure to introduce ... Cooch!”

(‘Cuch!’ shouted the crowd).

One exasperated fan bellowed above the cheers from the crowd, “It’s Cuch you wazzock!”

Cuch and the family ran onto the stage to the music of Paranoid by Black Sabbath.

The big screen clearly showed Lucas and Cuch bursting into dance (by now it was second nature).

Lucas and Cuch ended their performance with their special bow - the one with Cuch on hind legs. They had one arm/paw raised in mock rock stance.

The crowd’s applause was rapturous.

There followed a visit to the roped off area where the wet cemented paving slab was waiting for the paw print.

Lucas had practised the move over and over again with Cuch. He was confident Cuch could do ‘the ploddit’ on command - place one paw down, hold it, then release.

The journalists jostled uncomfortably for the best angle to take their photo. Greyman had suddenly become like an unpleasant yapping terrier, doggedly determined to get front place for his picture.

The family had no doubt that the caption would read something like ‘Crowds Cheer at Dog Cruelty’ or ‘Doggie Walk of Fame branded Ridiculous’.

The jostling was starting to get out of hand and one of the reporters took great exception to Greyman’s bad-natured shoving.

Elbowing the stocky reporter was probably not Greyman’s best move.

The big one gave Greyman an almighty shove - and splat! Before anyone realised what had happened Greyman was face down in the wet concrete.

Now the cameras really started flashing. And the sorry scene was beamed live to the Brummie crowd who laughed until they hurt.

Greyman struggled to his feet. His notepad had flown out of his hand and had been kicked away by one of the reporters. He had lost one shoe and one arm had come out of his old man’s jacket, leaving his sleeve dangling ridiculously.

His face and neatly pressed old man’s trousers were covered in cement, but you could just make out the furious red face underneath.

He could already imagine the headlines the next day:

‘Splat! Greyman Turned White in Cement Fiasco’.

And that’s precisely what happened.

Even the TV reports showed the scene and it was an instant hit on U Tube.

Workmen had to re-do the cement patch for Cuch to place his paw.

And unlike Greyman, he did so perfectly. His ploddit was a very professional and dignified performance.