Let's all remember Selwyn Corbett!

Morning Dance fans,

On flicking through my diary late last night I stumbled across a small reminder that today would have been the 76th birthday of my late, dear old friend and proud purveyor of all things pork Selwyn Corbett, so to celebrate his great life I offer you this wonderful picture of some beautiful, tasty severed pigs heads!! - Simmer one of these in a huge pot for 6 hours with some water, carrots, a few leeks, potatos, and a few onions and you have a wonderful pigs head stew....fookin' priceless!! - Old Selwyn was a giant of a man - mentally, physically and spiritually and I cherish the times we spent together.

We were both cut from the same metaphoric slice of pork loin, from the heady days we spent roaming the rat infested streets of Barrow as shoeless children to the joyous moment when we both finally escaped our poverty stricken misery and made it as true champions of our chosen fields....me as the grand master of dance and Selwyn as the North Wests master pork butcher from 1967 to 1974!! I miss old Selwyn dearly and wherever he is hopefully (up there in pork heaven) I send this message:- "I still miss you old proud lad but until we meet again just remember the sacred, solemn motto of the Guild of pork master butchers.........HALLOWED BE THY PORK!!!!"

A Final snippet from "Feet of Flames"!!

Well loyal friends here is the final teaser from my authorized life story - "Feet of Flames".

Concentrating on the blissfully happy years from 1970-73, chapter 7 covers my first marriage to Glenda, continued ballroom success, amazing times spent with Mater' and my fondness for pork and all it's glories...so settle down with a large mug of suuugary tea and a nice wild boar sausage toastie and fookin' read on!

"I first met Glenda Sealey in August 1971, at the Mecca ballroom in Barrow in Furness. I was strictly off duty that fateful hot Friday night as I was recovering from a rather severe bout of gout in my ankle which had forced me to opt out of that years British championship in Blackpool. Anyway I was stood by the bar chatting idly to two of my dancing pals the effeminate Galton Linseed and the fleet footed Wilmot Singent when I spied a pretty maid sat by the dancefloor with her friend Valerie. After introducing ourselves we bought the girls a few drinks and before long old Wilmot had paired off with Val and I had snared the alluring young Glenda, poor old Galton was out of luck although he did leave for home later that night with a nice young chap called Mervyn!

After treating Glenda to a substantial pork roast supper at a local carvery what followed was a whirlwind romance of torrid proportions, I was well and truly smitten. Yes over the next few weeks Glenda and I spent every waking hour in each others company - we shared a common bond.....a love of dance and a lust for life itself. I introduced Glenda to the joys of pork and in return she showered me with love and devotion. After a quick courtship I knew the time had come to unite the two most important women in my life, Mater' and Glenda.

I remember clearly that fateful first meeting in the back parlour of the house I shared with Mater' in Rosemund street, Hinge had pulled out all the stops to welcome Glenda into the Sheepshanks family nest. Laying on lashings of sweet suuuugary tea, with some nice pork luncheon meat, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, and a nice selection of cakes including cream horns, chocolate eclairs, choux buns and Mater's favourite - a big chuffin buuuuutery Eccles cake, eeeh a real chuffin' treat I say!!! anyway I really thought that Mater' and Glenda would hit it off straight away but for some bizzare reason there seemed to be a frostiness and distance between the pair of them, what a dissapointment. Here I was with the two most precious people in my life and they wore unable to interact. Mater' was a classy lady who had dragged herself from the rat infested back streets of Barrow into a two time ballroom pairs champion but she had never forgotten her working class roots and so I really thought that she would embrace the pretty hardworking Glenda, but no it wasn't to be. After I wed Glenda six months later she would often claim that Mater' was jealous of her and she wanted me all for herself but that was pure twaddle! naturally myself and Mater' had a special, unique Mother and Son bond but she would never stand in the way of ol' Lesleys happiness......no way!


Anyhow undettered I vowed to marry Glenda in the belief that things would right themselves eventually and in time Mater' and Glenda would become truly great friends. I pulled out all the stops for our wedding and hired out the plush sir Harry Twigg-Chafe suite at the stately 4 star 'Hassocks hotel' in West Barrow, nothing was too much trouble for my precious one as we enjoyed a prime five course pork bonanza (devised by my great friend and best man master butcher and keen amateur cook Selwyn Corbett) including seasoned pigs kidneys wrapped in pork luncheon meat, on a bed of lettuce, sprinkled with some luscious bacon bits fried in pure pork fat and clarified buuuuuuuter, oooh fookin' beltin it were I tell you!!

I should have known that problems lay ahead at the wedding, when the registrar pondered the fateful question as too if anyone present had any objections to our sacred union Mater gingerley got to her feet and murmured something under her breath. My cousin Rupert later drunkily claimed that she had indeed muttered quietly that 'that little shrew Glenda won't get her mitts on my little tinkie poo Lester, no chuffin' way!!!!', anyhow the wedding went ahead and our vows were finally exchanged! yes British ballrooms most eligible bachelor had made an honest women of Glenda Sealey!

With the reception over Glenda and myself spent a wonderful three days honeymoon at my luxurious caravan in Bournemouth before returning to Barrow to move in with beloved meek Mater'. Initially everything seemed fine and blissful and after a brief fragile few weeks Glenda and Mater' began to finally bond and started to get on like a house on fire, Mater' even offered to help Glenda to re-decorate our marital love nest, and the two proud beauties would often spend hours scouring Barrow market for pork treats for ol' Twinkle toes!

As ever in old Lesleys life though tragedy was waiting just around the corner, we had only been married for four weeks when I recieved the hideous phone call at my 'Lester Sheepshanks Dance School' in downtown Barrow!!! Glenda had somehow mysteriously fallen from the top rung of a rickety step ladder at our home in Rosemund Street and died almost instantly, Mater' found her twitching body on the floor and boldly tried to recusitate the poor soul but alas it was too late and the lovely, thoughtful Glenda had gone to the the great ballroom in the sky.....

Years later awful, sinister allegations were cast by that foppish, lead footed, limp wristed twot Austin Lockett that Mater' had indeed pushed Glenda from the step ladder but that is evil nonsense, Mater' told me that she was downstairs making them both a pot of suuugary tea and a nice pork based platter at the time and I had no reason to doubt my silvery haired Mother, no this was a terrible freak accident and nothing else, the searing, red handlike marks around poor Glenda's porcelain neck proved to be from when dear Mater' pitifully and rather heroically tried to save Glenda after her awful, tragic fall, and the severe bruising and bloody cuts on her soft head where not inflicted by Mater's size 10 orthopaedic shoe as alleged by Lockett but by the fall onto one of my unfortunately placed dance trophies, no it was an awful bizzare household decorating tragedy and nothing else, but once again happiness eluded me.............."

Austin Lockett - An apology

It has been brought to my attention by my brief Mr.Uttoxeter Arbroath that in my last few posts I have in someway sullied and cast asperssions on the alleged "good" name of my nemesis and ballroom rival Mr.Austin Lockett of Barrow in Furness. I apologise whole heartedley to Mr.Lockett for any distress caused by my "allegations" and by way of pennance I am hereby offering to make a donation to the charity of his choice......

The fookin' lousy, mincing chuffin fooker!! no way NO WAY I say, that fooker did poor old Mater' in and everyone know's it, AAARRGGHHH fook the fookin' lot of yer.........!!!!

"Feet of Flames" another taster......

Morning old friends, as promised here is another gripping installment from my forthcoming (and fully updated) autobiography due out in the new year, available from all reputable book stores for just £5.99!!!. Right now let's settle down and fix ourselves a cold drink, a nice gin and tonic perhaps and feast on some delicious crusty bread spread with prime "head cheese" (any pork novices simply must try this delightful offal delicacy which is the tasty section of meat and tissue found in the pigs skull which is chilled and then set in gelatin!!!!) as I transport you back to May 1982....

"My 5 bedroom mock tudor mini mansion in Barrow in Furness (above) is truly an imposing building but inside it is a peaceful, safe haven for my huge collection of dance artefacts and treasures. Housed within the ornate Tudor style outershell is a breathtaking array of tasteful decor and spectacular rooms but the most splendid and solemn of living quarters is Mater's shrine which is housed on the 2nd floor........

When I first moved into the glorious building the first thing I set about doing was hiring the services of Barrow based interior designer Roger Paquette who had the unenviable task of recreating Mater's simple but decorative bedroom from our old home in Rosamund Street in West Barrow, Mater and I lived in the nice 3 bedroom semi from 1966 to 1974 - the year of Mater's brutal m-m-m-m-murder....I still can hardly bring myself to utter the word but the truth will out, someone took her away from me and left me a shell, nay a fookin' wreck, stranded on a seabed of despair and loneliness. Deep down that person knows he has done wrong, that man is wandering around to this day gloating in the knowledge that he has killed not just one person in Hinge Sheepshanks but also me. On that day when Maters' head was thrust into the vat of scolding hot boiling lard not only Mater' died but I died too. Legal proceedings prevent me from discussing this in more detail but I'll say just 2 words.....Lockett and murder - the dirty fookin' bastid!!!

After the pointless slaying of Mater I left the pleasant, leafy surroundings of Rosamund Street and moved down to Bournemouth to mourn Mater'. I spent 4 painful years in my luxury caravan but in 1980 I knew that I finally had to move on and so plucked up the inner strength and courage to return to Barrow and rebuild my life, as luck would have it my dear old friend Selwyn Corbett was selling his luxury tudor home, he named a reasonable price I accepted and the rest as they say is chuffin' history..........

To recreate Mater's bedroom was truly to be a massive project for Roger as he painstakingly studied pictures and drawings to lovingly craft a perfect reproduction of Hinge's bedroom. On the day of completion, I handed over a cheque for £18,000 to the grinning Roger and he left me alone to soak up the pure majesty of Mater's finished shrine. Everything was perfect - her huge old oak wardrobe which housed her luxury dance gowns was in it's rightful place along with the ornate dressing table festooned with perfumes, hairbrushes and make up accesories. Pictures of myself and Mater on holiday and at prestigious dance functions adorned the walls and her old size 10 orthapaedic shoe sat serenley on the bed next to her glass eye which was fished out of the pan of hot lard on that deathly day and given to me back in 1978 after the official closure of the Hinge Sheepshanks murder case.

I must have spent 3 hours in that room alone that day, just sobbing hysterically into Maters' plastic wrapped pillow. It was a great help in my grieving process, to learn to take one day at a time and to return to normality....I retired from competitive dancing for 4 years in the midst of my grief and misery but I knew that Mater would want me to return to dance and this was confirmed late one night in a spiritually enlightening visitation by Mater!!!

Now I had never really believed in an afterlife but that fateful night in 1982 forced me to change my opinion. I remember it like it was this morning, By this period I was hitting the gin quite heavily and after a marathon binge session of 2 bottles of Gordon's finest and a handful of sleeping tablets I had just turned off 'Come Dancing' one warm July evening and after finishing off a large Corbetts sausage roll with lashings of pea juice had alighted the stairs to change into my velvet pyjamas. After cleaning my teeth I staggered into Maters shrine and gingerley sat down on her plastic covered sheets. Moments later and I felt a cold, deathly chill down my spine, suddenley Mater's old silver music box began to play a lullaby and I was bathed in celestial heavenly light. Fook! there was Mater' hovering over me in her 1946 British cup winning dance gown, her silvery soft hair slightly caked in lard.....chuffin' fook I thought as she beckoned me towards her, 'Tinkie poo, listen my son dearest Lester, you must move on, Mater is gone but she is fine and happy waiting for you dear Lester in heaven, Live your life to the full, enjoy all the pork and dance based experiences that you can and do not worry about me, the moment will be upon us one day and we shall be together again.....'

Minutes later I woke up soaked in sweat on Maters bed, the room was silent as I took a deep breath and slowly returned to my bedroom before falling into a restful Mater' dream filled slumber......that next day I vowed to live my life to the full again, Sheepsy was back and my feet of flames were reborn - Eeeeh fook, the sheer magic of dance!!!!!!"

Chuffin hell' if it's not old Toby!!!

Several of you have e-mailed me lately enquiring as to where you can send donations to "Fops" (the Barrow Federation of Poorly Red Setters) so to mark your kind requests I have decided to post this delightful festive picture of my old, dear companion Toby who was sensessly taken away from me 3 years ago.....why does ANYONE I ever get close to or love always get snatched away from me? Mater? my beloved first wife Glenda? Toby? my friend and blood brother Selwyn Corbett?!?!?!

WHY OH WHY OH FOOKIN' WHYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!??!

Erm....this snap of Tobias was taken at my luxury 5 bedroom mini mansion back in 2002 and as you can see in the said picture ol' Toby is recreating the look of Father Xmas.......fook! I miss the old lad, he was a true friend - god bless him!!!

Ps. All donations can be sent to Sheepshanks Heights, 108 Farrowdale Crescent, Barrow in Furness, B078 4FG.

Remember it's nearly Xmas and give what you can, a red setter isn't just for Xmas - it's for life!

A little Pasa doble into my past!

Morning dance fans, it's been a bit of a busy old week (more of which I'll reveal later) but as my authorised autobiography "Feet of Flames" is to be reissued in the new year I thought I would post a few chapters here to titillate your Sheepsy tastebuds, so we can reminisce together about the fruitful and florid life I have led.

With an extra 5 brand new chapters and totally updated to include my breakdown and unsavoury "faked death" 3 years ago this amazing story of my extragavant career and life is a must for all lovers of ballroom, pork and Sheepsy in general. Over the next few weeks you will be able to read about my loves, highs and huge dance success, along with the losses, severe lows and misery that I have suffered in my eventful life - discover the true insight into my constant battle with the pain of losing Mater', my desperate wranglings with severe gout, and the full salacious story of the women I have truly loved.....

So make yourself comfy, settle down on an easy chair - plump up a pillow, ease into your favourite carpet slippers and fetch a nice pork platter from the fridge. Try a balsamic vinegar pickled trotter, and a few lightly pan fried pigs gizzards, maybe add a homemade scotch egg, and finish off your platter with a few crisp salad leaves and a "Corbett's prime pork nudger" a 4 oz heady intoxicating patty of prime organic sausage meat, sage, onion and pork fat fried up in some clarified buuuuuter.....Eeeeeh a fookin' beltin treat!!!!

Back to literary matters, settle down and here we go with the first excerpt, enjoy........

"Unlike some of my peers in the showbiz world I was never lucky enough to be blessed with a privileged upbringing, my parents Whitworth and Hinge' had little in the way of material posessions but my brothers and sisters rarely went without much - in part thanks to my kind mothers hardworking nature (at one point she had 4 jobs on the go - including barmaid at the 'Wounded Badger' public house, and cleaner at the local bus depot!) and my Fathers petty criminal dealings. We lived in a shabby 2 up 2 down house in the working class backstreets of Barrow and to be honest they were mostly happy carefree times, most days after school we would return home to the familiar aroma of a delicious casserole wafting through the house to find Mater' stirring a huge pot of pork offcuts, carrots, potatos and onions. That sacred image is one that remains with me still to this day, whenever I am down and in need some poignant relief I think of Mater' resplendent stood proudly over a vast pot of bubbling pork slurry and my mood is instantly lightened....

I remember one Xmas in particular, all year I had been mithering Mater and my Father for my 1st pair of proper dancing shoes, up until then I had been managing with some delapitated worn out black school galoshes which certainly hindered my Rhumba and Salsa moves, but fook me more often that not I still managed to win 75% of the contests I entered even dancing with threadbare plimsolls!

Mater' knew that I simply had to have those shoes and she slaved and slaved to make sure I would get them come Xmas day morning, even if it meant that my beloved brothers and sisters festive treat's would have to be jeopardized. She simply did everything she could to help me to fulfill my dreams. After all I was the only family member who had the talent and promise to dance myself out of the rat infested streets of Barrow in Furness and hopefully provide financial solice for Mater' and my siblings. As for my cruel violent Father Whitworth I had nothing but anger and hatred.

Xmas day came and we all hurridly scurried downstairs at 7.00am in the morning, filled with excitement and glee. Peeping our heads around the door we glimpsed a pile of gifts laid out for us under the tree, Father was still asleep sleeping off 15 pints of strong bitter from the night before so we eagerly collected our gifts and began to unwrap them with anticipation!! first up was Minton who couldn't wait and so ripped off the inky newspaper wrapping to reveal a sumptious plump orange, Minty wasn't happy and tossed the fleshy citrus fruit into the fire with a cry of 'fookin' tight bastids!' next up was young Frimley who had been given a bruised apple, followed by my older sister Florrie who also seemed slightly dissapointed by her nice gift of a small bag of assorted nuts....this continued until it was finally my turn, being the youngest I had to wait until the very end and all eyes were on me as little Lesley gingerley fingered the shiny gold wrapping paper and beautiful silver ribbon festooned on my luxury festive package.

'No, n-n-no no NO!!!! it can't be, can it ?' I cried as I ripped the glittering material away to reveal a beautiful, shiny pair of black patent leather dancing slippers. Grinning from ear to ear I carefully slid them onto my feet and proceeded to dance a jubilant Pasa doble on the threadbare rug in front of the fireplace, the look on Mater's face was a real delight as she began to cry tears of pure joy and pride. Even in later years my brothers and sisters still made sickening allegations against my character, suggesting that there was always preferential treatment to me from Mater but that's fookin' nonsense and petty jealousy - she loved us all equally and would do anything to help us all, even if meant sacrificng everyone else's Xmas for my dancing dreams!

It was a strange sedate Xmas for some reason, I still don't really know why to this day but my siblings sobbed often and seemed quite tearful for most of the festive period but for me it was a complete dance based paradise. For dinner as we so poor we had to make do with a small turkey crown split between the 10 of us but Mater' being Mater' had managed to save up all year and had obtained a couple of special pork and leek sausages for me. I never asked how she managed it but the old trooper fookin' did.....to ensure that I was fit and nourished for my upcoming dance career!! I had my true wishes at last, my dream was coming true and my dancing trotters were begining to simmer, on that very day I promised to Mater' that one day soon I would take her away from the misery of my Fathers brutal regime, I had the power, nay the gift to harness the joyful dancing desire of my feet of flames!!!!

I won't deny that was a special bond between Mater' and myself, but being the youngest of the family it is only natural that there should be, I am not ashamed to say that to me Mater was a vision of beauty, a beacon of purity and innocence in an otherwise dark cynical world, my sacred dear Mater', I'll never forget you- yer proud fookin' beauty........'

Les is lighting up Barrow!

Just a little reminder that on Thursday night I will be helping to switch on the official Barrow in Furness Xmas lights. If you fancy getting yourself along to join in the festivities you can find out more information in the council's statement below:-

Barrow Christmas Lights Switch On~~~~~~ (22/11/07)

A family event for all ages, come along and see the live reindeers.

Barrow Town Square 5 pm - 8 pm meet the live reindeers, visit Santa's Grotto (supplied by BAE Systems Community Challenge - there will be a small charge in aid of charity 'The Barrow in Furness damaged dog retreat', street entertainers, fun fair including roundabouts and fun stalls, Punch & Judy, and a visit from the Dick Whittington Pantomime Characters.

At 6 pm local ballroom legend Lester Sheepshanks will switch on the lights before hopefully warming 4 lucky ladies up with a special festive ballroom dance masterclass!!!


Just a little footnote to the above statement, due to the agonising gout in my ankle I will be unable to present the promised dance masterclass after the grand lights big switch on, my apologies!!

My heartfelt apologies.....

Morning dance fans, it is with immense regret and sadness that I announce I have had to withdraw from my planned performance in the wonderful panto that is Cinderella....

I was really looking forward to once again donning my ugly sisters outfit at the lovely Theatre royal in Barnsley and entertaining the public with a combination of camp slapstick and dance prowess!! But it is not to be sadly, I awoke on Sunday morning with a searing pain in my left ankle - yes it was my fookin' gout, back with a vengenace the pesky arthiritic rotter! my doctor reckons I'll be out of action for about 4 or 5 weeks so no dance Tom foolery for old Les!

I'm more dissapointed for the loyal people who have already bought tickets for the show and no doubt are now facing a miserable, bleak festive period without their fix of "Sheepsy panto fun".

Oh well as they say the "show must go on!" and I will bravely battle through my gout affliction to hopefully take my place in the production in time for the final week. Luckily my manager Maurice Shotleley had the foresight to include a sneaky clause in my contract stating that if for health reasons I dropped out my substantial fee will still be paid in FULL!! - tee hee happy chuffin' days.........

So I write this post from Maurice's laptop in the bedroom of my plush 5 bedroom mock Tudor mini mansion. Just across the hallway from Mater's room. I'm going through a rather painful period of missing old Hinge at the moment so in a while I'll hobble in and slip between the plastic lined sheets of her old oak bed before maybe donning her old pink towelling dresing gown before lurching downstairs to catch up with Jeremy Kyle on TV, what a card that lad is....some of the people he gets on that show, I don't fookin' know? it fascinates me. Fookin ell' what a shower of fookers!!!

Maurice has arranged for a private carer to come around at 10.00am to rustle me up a nice fry up. I'm thinking a few poached duck eggs, 5 rashers of "Corbett's" prime organic streaky Mudchute farm bacon, 2 fat pork and liver sausages, a few shards of black pooding, maybe a few pigs gizzards, a gammon steak and some toast! Eeeh a true pork nirvana! Anyway must dash as I'm expecting a call from my old pal Bernie Clifton to hopefully fill me in on how rehearsals for the panto are going. No doubt his pesky hilarious ostrich sidekick will be pecking around in the background!!

So till next time friends, keep your spirits up and remember to keep your feet moving and your trotters twitching!!!

Lester.

It's Panto time......oh no it isn't!! - oh yes it chuffin' is!

Yes it certainly is, this year I'm appearing in Cinderella at the quaint theatre royal in Barnsley, and I can't chuffin' wait! Rehearsals begin today and I'm really excited about meeting the rest of the brilliant cast later this morning. The very talented breakfast show DJ Tim "Cheeky" Chambers from local radio station Barnsley 108FM is taking the role of Buttons, whilst the lovely Sophie Prigg weathergirl from Yorkshire tv local news makes a delightful Cinders, I'm playing one of the ugly sisters with Tony Green of Bullseye fame whilst my dear old friend Bernie Clifton will make a marvelous Baron Hardup with his humourous ostrich sidekick!!! I'm being put up in a rather nice 3 star hotel just outside of Barnsley for the majority of the shows run so expect lots of amusing, hotel related shennanigans from this blog over the next few weeks!

I fookin' love panto me, I really do, It plays to all my showbiz strengths and ticks all the right boxes. People may say I'm only doing it for the money and yes it pays well - I'm not doing it for nowt, I'm not running a charity you know, I've got a five bedroom luxury home to maintain and Mater's memory to honour but I really honestly do love it!

Xmas time for me can be a pretty lonely time anyway, so it's best I'm not alone. Since Mater' was taken from me back in the 1970's I've had little motivation or desire to celebrate the festive season and thats why I love the family joy that panto brings, I'd only be rattling around my mock Tudor mini mansion on Boxing day or at Maurice Shoteleys house playing charades so it will save me from some unwelcome misery........

I clearly remember the first Xmas after Mater' was killed, I awoke to a cold empty house and after opening some of my many presents from my scores of showbiz friends (Angela Rippon, Judith Chalmers, Bonnie Langford and Bernie Clifton) I gingerly crawled up to Mater's shrine and slipped into one of her glorious silvery ballgowns (actually it was the garment she wore to win the 1949 Lancaster and district pairs title!) before applying some foundation and rouge and then finally settling down to eat my Xmas meal for one of roast pork, lightly salted tripe, roasties, honey glazed carrots and some sage stuffing, Mmmm - that brief pork based interlude was the only highpoint of a truly bleak, dark day. After my pork bonanza I spent the rest of the day wandering around Barrow in Furness town centre in Maters' clothes with her orthopaedic shoe on, oh fook it's bringing it all back to me now......must move on, have to move on. By the way the dressing up in Mater's clothes is by no way a sexually repressed thing honestly it was merely an emotional cry for help, my therapist at the time confirmed this, I repeat it was just a form of positive grieving, honestly!

Fookin' chuff what a commotion that was!!

I'm afraid due to my busy panto schedule that I had to turn down ITV's very generous offer to be airlifted in to the Australian jungle as late surprise guest for "I'm a celebrity.......", It was between me and old pal Christopher Biggins but I think old Biggin's really needs the work and money more than I do so I gracefully pasa dobled to one side and let the old mincer take the job!!!

God look Biggins son, you'll fookin' need it!!!

Must fly now as I have an appointment at the private "Heathcote" health clinic in Barrow in an hour, nothing serious but the veins around my lower rectum seem a bit more inflamed than usual lately so I'm booked in for some intensive "Rubber band ligation" treatment...pesky fookin' chalfonts!

Poll results - What is the true king of pork!

Well a respectable four of you voted and yes we can confirm that in your opinion the king of pork snacks is........THE GAMMON STEAK!!! - well you certainly surprised me but one can't argue with the democratic vote, you have spoken and the tasty, humble gammon steak is the winner!!

Watch this space for more light hearted polls!

A Blast From The Past!! Madame Greta Du Font....(RIP)

Chuffin fook! I just had to share this wonderful old picture with you my loyal readers, yes it's Madame Greta Du Font the great French dancer who I had the honour of foxtrotting with back in the late 50's, but who is the young fleet footed suave chap on the right? yes it's my good self dancing with Greta back in 1957!! fookin' ell it seems like just last week when that picture was taken, but how times have changed, crime is out of control these days, gangs of feral youths roam the streets, immigration has become totally unnaceptable and the price of pork is on the rise too!! - fookin' ell!

I recall the amazing times Greta and I shared in Bournemouth in the comfy interior of my luxury caravan, we spent endless days frollicing on my pink floral eiderdown, 2 people in love and at one with each other, sharing a burning passion for dance, nature and the medium of pork based products..... but in the end we drifted apart and I had to follow my true path, my one vocation to become the greatest ballroom dancer in history!!! the choice was a hard one, follow my heart or choose my "Feet of flames"? I think you'll agree folks ol' Twinkle toes made the right one!

But she really was a wondrous lady with all the grace of a released butterfly.......sadly I recieved the awful news last night that she had been killed in an horrendous bizzare wallpapering accident at her retirement home in Toulouse. She was 81! Greta I'll miss you and all you gave to the world of dance, god bless you yer proud beauty!!!

Tantrums, tears and pork loin memories....(Part 2)

6.30am Saturday morning and I awoke to Maurice's snoring reverberating around the walls of our humble room, it was a glorious day and I could hear the reassuring sound of seagulls squawking outside. After picking at a rather average full English breakfast in the B&B we left in disgust and hit "Ted's Cafe" on the Golden Mile for a tasty alternative. Maurice ordered 14 slices of toast with butter and suuuuuuugary tea whilst ol' twinkle toes decided on a light platter consisting of 3 fried eggs, 4 cumberland sausages, a gammon steak and 5 rashers of streaky bacon, all washed down by a pot of sweet Yorkshire tea - eeeh chuffin' pork heaven!

After a mid morning stroll along the promenade Maurice nipped off for a quick bet whilst I went back to the hotel room to take my medication (for my career ending chronic gout and high blood pressure).

After catching up with Maurice at 2.00pm back on the North pier we had arranged to go and meet one of my old friends Judith Chalmers who was up North filming a segment on Blackpool for "Wish you were here". I've known Judith for donkeys years and she was a particular tower of strength during my very public breakdown a few years back, rumours still persist that Judith and I have a carnal history but I can confirm now that it's not fookin' true, granted if the chance arose I probably would have had my fill as Judith is a fine, good looking woman but alas we are good chuffin' friends and no more.

After sharing a pot of tea and a couple of cream horn's with Judith we bid our farewells as I had planned to honour a sacred promise I had made over 2 years ago to my old late friend master butcher Selwyn Corbett, just before his senseless murder Selwyn had pleaded with me that if he ever perished he wanted his ashes to be cast into the cold, polluted sea at Blackpool. As a man of honour I had no choice but to grant him his wishes, and so at about 4.00pm I strolled down to the sea front with dear old Selwyn's tin of ashes under my coat, with a tear in my eye I gingerley loosened the old biscuit tin lid and removed it, steadying myself and with tears now streaming down my face I leant forward but suddenly a huge gust of wind swept forward and sent my dead butcher friends ashes flying in a thick, grey cloud all over me (and my favourite fookin' blazer - the inconsiderate bastid!) dusting myself down I began to snigger and afforded myself a gentle laugh before tears of joy and mirth again began to well in my eyes. I must have looked a sight as me ol' twinkle toes Sheepsy strode valiantly back to my B&B covered in a fookin' dead man's ash giggling hysterically......hee hee what a fookin' palaver!!

Maurice chuckled as I retold my story and as we strolled down the promenade that night we both laughed with delight as we skipped along without a care in the world......That last night was a perfect end to a beltin' weekend as after dancing the night away at the Tower Ballroom I bumped into Joyce again and enjoyed a romantic late night stroll along the beach and some tasteful, respectful shennanigans back in my hotel room before she left to return home to her husband and I met Maurice at a late night gentlemans club for some bawdy entertainment including my old pal Burton Curle doing an impromptu stand up spot and a few exotic dancers! fook I had too look away as in old Les's book THAT wasn't dance but live and let live I say, these girls were making a good living out of their "saucy act" and with added tips etc they can't be knocked so I respectfully doff my cap to them, the fookin' proud beauties!!!!!!!

New poll - Pig's Trotter Vs pork chop!?!?

I can confirm that I have a new poll started today (just for fun!)

Everybody knows that pork is the staple of all good, homely British dishes but what is the best form? that's up to YOU! Yes you the British public have to decide on your favourite pork based product, whether you are partial to a nice sausage or prefer a tasty pickled trotter the choice is yours.....

The choices are at the bottom of the page! - happy voting and remember Pork is what makes this country great!!!

Tantrums, tears and pork loin memories....(Part 1)

How do folks! well it's been an eventful old weekend for me, one full of top notch japes, fish suppers, pork loin memories, some no strings attached shennanigans, and the glorious, sensual dance that is the Samba!!

It all began on Friday morning when my good friend Maurice Shoteley pulled up outside my 5 bedroom mock tudor mini-mansion in his black Bentley, yes we were about to set out on our annual Blackpool beano, a jolly boys outing if you like for Maurice and me. Originating from the mid 70's the "Pig Trotters Seaside Bonanza" began life as a chance for Maurice, Selwyn and ol' twinkle toes to recharge our batteries with some sea air and scrapes! However since the terrible death of our old pal butcher Selwyn Corbett a few years back Maurice and myself have vowed to keep the knees up going as a glowing tribute to the memory of dear Selwyn.....

Anyway we promptly set off in Maurices car and arrived in my spiritual home at midday after a quick brunch stop at a little chef on the way! (Maurice opted for a pot of tea and 5 large doughnuts whilst I selected a full English "porkfest" including baked beans, 3 rashers of bacon, chips, mushrooms, 3 pork and leek sausages, fried bread, scrambled eggs, a gammon steak, and a side order of sumptious black pooding!! it was a beltin' fry up I can confirm!!

Upon arrival at the 4 star "Sunnydale" hotel at Blackpool it quickly emerged that blinkin' old Maurice hadn't confirmed the reservation and so the hotel was fully booked...anyway after an hour and a half of scouring the streets we finally we managed to get a "cosy" double room at the basic but homely "Shepperton" B&B on Regent Street facing the majestic North pier. After unpacking our bags and a quick wash and brush up we hit the town, I had decided to change into my 1979 beige safari suit with maroon silk cravat whilst Maurice slipped into his comfy favourite blue Farah slacks and a nice grey slazenger v-neck pullover/green polo shirt look. After a leisurely stroll down the golden mile we stopped off for a quick port or 2 in a local Wetherspoons hostilery before having a wander onto the North pier to check out which cabaret acts were lined up. Well chuffin hell the first thing we saw was a poster advertising my old pal Burton Curle, I was flabbergasted as old Burty has rarely worked since an ill judged performance at a fundraising do for the Terence Higgins trust 2 years ago. It was all a simple error - Burton's bumbling agent mis-booked him for the bash thinking it was a former coal miners do in Wakefield when in fact it was a black tie dinner/cabaret evening for the mincing charity down in London!! anyone who knows their stand up comedy will vouch that yes old Burty can be a bit blue and sometimes a tad risky but it's all good humoured innocent fun much like other misunderstood comic greats like Jim Davidson and Bernard Manning, suffice to say Burton made a harmless joke about "backs to the wall" and all hell broke loose! oh well some people take themselves far too seriously!!

After a stick of candyfloss and a quick tram ride we retired back to our hotel room for a brief siesta'. After showering and changing into our best suits Maurice and myself hit the Blackpool tower and a return to my spiritual home - the Tower fookin' Ballroom!!!

I must confess I had mixed emotions on returning to the beautiful gilded ballroom as I haven't been back their since those outdated fools at the BBC decided to axe my "Lesters Funtime Hour!" t.v. show from it's Saturday night slot a few years back. Granted viewing figures were initially dissapointing but it was early days and I believe I could have pulled it round in time. I had some first class acts lined up but those foolish bastids at the Beeb had other plans, they wanted cheesy modern acts like McFly, Busted and squeaky voiced joker Joe Pasquale whilst I had pencilled in a long overdue screen return for funnyman Roger De Courcy and Nookie Bear, The multi-talented Bucks Fizz and my dear old friend Bernie Clifton and his hilarious ostrich sidekick!!!

We arrived at about 7.30pm and promptly took our seats in a private VIP area roped off from the public, thanks to the kindness of ballroom manger Stan Tressle (cheers Stan son!) No offence to the dear OAP's and dance fans who tend to frequent the tower ballroom but you must understand that as a multiple ballroom title winning veteran I need my privacy too and urge all followers of the medium of dance to please respect that....but after a few more ports I suddenly felt the familiar warm tingling sensation in my feet, yes my "feet of flames" were starting to heat up and I had little option but to follow my heart and take too the dancefloor. I plucked a lucky lady from a nearby table and gave her the waltz of her life, it was fookin' intoxicating I tell you, aaah the beauty of dance!

I have to confess readers that I think my heart briefly fluttered, and I felt the familiar pulsating warm feel that I haven't felt since dear old Mater' was taken away by the angels (well that fookin' rotter Lockett!!!!) - Joyce and I literally danced the night away, we did everything, the pasa doble, the rhumba, the waltz and finally the dance of lovers - the samba!! it was truly a wondrous evening and after an intimate late night pork-loin dinner at a nearby carvery the 67 year old Joyce and I returned to my hotel room. By this time I had slipped Maurice a fiver to keep out of the way for an hour or so (the last I heard he was winning £60 in the penny arcade on the North pier!!) so Joyce and I could continue our dance of passion in privacy. After what seemed like hours of beautiful, torrid lovemaking I escorted Joyce to the high street and pointed her in the direction of a mini-cab firm before dashing back to the ballroom to meet up with Maurice.


After signing several autographs and chatting to my public I was feeling rather tired and emotional so Maurice and I downed our last Cherry Brandy chasers and decided on stopping off on the way home for some scran! - 1st stop was the legendary "Cap'n Barnacle's" fish bar on Chisleworth Avenue. Maurice ordered a sausage in batter with chips, peas and gravy and old Les went for a large tray of chips, pea juice and some "Fish thumpers!" - you really haven't dined until you have experienced the sheer joy of a proccessed fish thumper, How they do it I don't know but at a push I'd guess that off cuts of cod and plaice are combined with potato textured granules, preservatives, monosodium glutamate, flavour enhancers and lashings of salt before being ground into a fishy paste then deepfried in dripping......oooh fookin' lovely!!!!

I'll update Saturdays remarkable events as soon as I can, must dash now as I have to visit dear Toby's shrine in Barrow in Furness cemetry, the poor old lads plot needs a bit of a clean up and some fresh flowers laid down for him, the proud lad! whilst there I will stop by Mater's plot and have a few quiet words before returning home to update on my Blackpool bonanza!!

Poll results! Pick your favourite past Les partner!

Well since the poll opened last week literally dozens of you have been voting for your favourite partner, the votes have been counted and I can confirm that with a huge majority the winner is.............

MAVIS FEKKIT - yes that's right, the highly respected Florence Yeast ran her a close 2nd place but you the great British public have decided that Mavis is your most beloved of my former partners. Unfortunately I am unable to contact Mavis to gain her thoughts and feelings on this prestigious honour. Due to a ridicilous, archaic restraining order I am unable to be within 100 yards of Mavis or her husband businessman Lucifer Entwhistle but suffice to say I'm sure that she would be delighted by the news.

My lawyer is still currently in the process of trying to have the said restraining order removed as I am nothing of a threat to Mavis, obviously I can't really talk about this matter as it is a legal issue but all I can say that is that I am innocent and will not rest to my name is cleared, fookin' ell!

Orthapaedic shoes, trinkets and other treasures....

Finding myself at a bit of a loose end yesterday afternoon I decided to venture up into my loft to finally clear out some of my massive clutter. Since I retired from competitve dancing in the late 1970's only the most majestic of my awards, trophies and prizes are housed in the living quarters of my wonderfully lavish 5 bedroom mock tudor mini mansion, golden shimmering monuments to my dance prowess adorn the walls and display cabinets of my home. From my earliest certificate for winning the national under 10's ballroom trophy to my final competitive trophy - the 1979 British men's veterans cup from Bournemouth.

But the true treasures and secrets are held in the dark and dusty old loft directly housed above Maters' bedroom. So at about 2.10pm yesterday afternoon just after watching Neighbours and polishing off a rather delicious snack of one of Corbetts prime Balsamic vinegar pickled pig's trotters with a nice potato salad I nervously climbed the ladder up into my Aladdins cave!!

One of the 1st things I instantly saw brought a wistful smile to my face and a little tear to my eye, fookin' ell it was one of Mater's old orthopaedic shoes, blowing the dust away from the size 10 NHS regulatation issue shoe I held it close to my moist cheek as my tears streamed onto the old clog.....such chuffin' memories.

Next amidst a few old copies of "Mayfair" and "Ballroom monthly" magazines I noticed some old letters, love letters from a selection of my past conquests. Now it's no secret that I have shared carnal relations with some very eligible ladies in my past but one particular letter made my heart sink. It was a passionate literary outpouring from the heart of one of my former lovers Anglea Rippon, things started to develop during the 1980's when Angela was presenting BBC1's "Come Dancing". I was occasionally a special guest during the series promoting my "Lester Sheepshanks Dancers" troupe', who were a talented collection of hand picked toe shufflers from my massive group of friends and pupils. Anyway I got chatting to Angela over a few weeks and we would often enjoy a large port or two in her dressing room after the show, sometimes I would drop by and whisk her off for a late night supper at one of my favourite London carverys for a nice pork roast dinner or we would stroll hand in hand giddily at midnight through Hyde Park....aah such joyful times.

We both knew that things were getting out of hand, I was 10 years older than Angela for one thing and she also had a jealous husband. Things came to a hand when one fateful July afternoon back at Angela's leafy country home, we had just commenced carnal proceedings when her husband bolted in through the bedroom door, what else could I do? I was stepping on another mans dancing shoes as it were, I had to do the decent thing and stand aside and let them sort out their marital problems - so after quickly finishing off my strokes I pasa dobled out of that bedroom with my clothes still under my arm and Foxtrotted down the stairs back to London. In her love torn letter Angela claimed that if I truly loved her I would have fought for her, but as I've said before, her husband offered to cut my feet off!! yes my sacred "Feet of Flames!"- any master of dance will tell you that his feet are his prized tools..... no thanks I thought to myself, I've had my fun - see you later Angela......ho ho ho tee hee hee, fookin' ell!!!!

Strictly come dancing? - no fookin' ta.....!!

After sitting through last nights "Strictly Come Dancing" I was astonished, nay fookin' bewildered by the Great British public's decision to axe "fleet footed BBC bit of fluff" Gabby Logan. OK Ms.Logan may be no Ethel Pokey let alone the legendary Mavis Fekkit but the way in which she was treated has left a sour taste in my mouth. As I sat on my chaise lounge' chomping through a rather tasty dish of 3 sumptious faggots (thanks Corbetts master butchers!!) a crescent of proccessed mushy peas and a fried duck egg sat in the middle I almost choked on a morsel of my delicious offal based meatball! How on earth the phone voters could chose the likes of the heavy footed Kate Garraway or former Queen Vic landlady Lettitia Dean over Gabby astounds me, whoever thought up this format should be rounded up and shot like a lame mare.....fookin' ell.

The style and grace with which Gabby performed last night was first class and speaking as a former grand master of ballroom I am flabbergasted, this morning speaking to my old dance partner Miss Gloria Munt at her retirement home even she agreed with me, sitting smiling vacantly and spilling her liquidised full English breakfast down the front of her green cardigan she told me that she could not believe the decision and that if she was 30 years younger (and indeed not deranged!!) she would whisk me down to the BBC's headquarters in London right there and then and we would perform a dance based political protest outside the BBC centre in support of Gabby.....shortly after the nurse admimistered Gloria's sedative medication I chuckled as she drifted away to sleep before I bade my farewell to the rundown "Spring Days" retirement home!!

Don't even get me started on the "Strictly..." judges, I was winning ballroom titles long before Craig Revel whats his name had even danced his 1st pasa doble! Bruno I have a lot of time for as I tutored him back in the late 1970's up at my masterclass in Blackpool, I indeed comforted him late night on more than one occasion as he wrestled over his heartbreakingly painful limpwristed indecisions...... I'm not so sure about old Len, he seems a nice cheeky bloke on TV but let me tell you having danced against him on numerous occasions in the 1960's I can vouch that he is as hard as they come and simply can't be trusted. I remember one time up in Darlington competing for the Northern counties Inter-challenge trophy, as if it was yesterday. It was the final dance off between myself and Mavis Fekkit and Len and his partner the leadfooted cockney harridan Rita Trout. Just as I was about to coax Mavis into a complex latin "Bonita Beuna gusset touch" manourevre the wily old Len could clearly be seen to lean forward and squirt a tube of toothpaste into our path causing me to slip awkwardly and spill Mavis onto the floor with a crash, needless to say Len had the last laugh as he and Rita carried off the trophy and poor old Mavis broke her ankle...the dirty fookin' rotter!!

The jury is still out on on Arlene, she certainly knows her stuff and her credentials can't really be questioned. Indeed our paths did cross back in the 1980's when she was working on Hot Gossip and I was touring my ill-fated stage show "Le Dance' Orthapedique" which in hindsight was a bad move, I was very depressed at the time and didn't realise that a dance and musical extravaganza based on Maters trusty NHS big shoe wouldn't really work, she seemed quite pleasant and friendly but that said she does seem a bit harsh to the contestants at times and really should encourage them more. If I was on the show I would be constructive and positive and not resort to petty sniping, I'm not fookin' bitter but it is common knowledge in the showbiz world that it was between Len and myself for the 4th judge's spot, I was overlooked merely because I was known for being outspoken and a dance trail blazer back in my competing days, I called a spade a spade and the fookin' BBC knew it!!!!!

That said I still enjoy the show occasionally, my money is on cheeky bald presenter Dom, believe me he is improving slowly week by week and if he continues to improve he could cause a few shocks!!!

Mater, dear Mater

Well it's that time of year again, yes my dear friends the anniversary of Mater's death. I never could imagine all those years ago just how deep and affecting the pain of loss can be, from that fateful, dark day when Mater's head was forced into the deathly vat of boiling hot lard in our back kitchen in Rosemund Road back in Barrow in Furness to now. Here I am still alone and still waiting for the day when I shall be reunited with dear Mater in heaven and we shall glide hand in hand, dancing the pasa doble on a fluffy cloud dancefloor, Mater resplendent with her silvery, lard encrusted hair in a shimmering ball gown and me wearing the very suit that I wore for my famous 1963 World championship win at the majestic Blackpool Tower ballroom!!!

Even to this day the true details of Mater's mysterious death have never been fully explained, yet only an hour after Mater was found dead that heavy footed fop Austin Lockett was openley heard drunkenly "bragging" in the "Shackled Beggar" public house in down town Barrow that he had "finally got even with old Sheepsy!!"

What a waste, we could and should have settled our differences on the dance floor like proper gentlemen, there was no need to harm innocent old Mater, she was just an innocent pawn in Austin's vicious game of revenge - but from that day on I have vowed to Mater's memory that I will not rest till he is brought to justice, the fookin' cad.....!!!

Today will be a quiet reflective day for me, around 10.00 am my agent and confidante' Maurice Shoteley will drive me to tend to Maters' grave and lay some fresh tulips on her lavish, austintatious tombstone before we return home for a luncheon of Corbetts finest pork brisket and sage sausages with a creamy pile of mash and some lighty steamed cabbage, perhaps with a side serving of pan fried pooding.....Mmmmm lovely but I digress. After lunch I will retire to Mater's "shrine" upstairs and lie down on her plastic covered bed and sob wildly for an hour or two before putting on one of Mater's beautiful glittery ball gown's, this just makes me feel closer to Mater - there is nothing morbid or peculiar about this, it merely enables me to feel the "spirit" of my beloved, dearest Mater.....

After parading around the living room in one of Maters' ballgowns, a pair of her size 10 silver dancing shoes and perhaps one of her decorative wigs for an hour or so I will as always return Mater's dress carefully to her wardrobe before phoning my only surviving brother Minton at his retirement home in Worthing. Dear old Minty is not the man he was, he is now sadly ravaged by severe dementia but he is the only link I have to Mater now and so I must persist with our empty phonecalls and meaningless cards at Xmas, he really hasn't got a clue who I am now - the matron at his care home insists it is a sympton of his illness but I believe it is just a jealous reaction to my success, none of my family apart from dear Mater have apprreciated my wealth, fame and entertainment skills....bah!

The day will finish as it always does by a light supper of maybe a Corbetts special pork pie with a slither of picalilli or perhaps a fish supper at Mater's favourite fish and chip shop in Pankhurst street, Mater would usually order chips, gravy and a fat sausage while I would usually decide on a large portion of chips, mushy peas and some "fish flavoured thumpers!!!" delicious!

God bless you Mater....................

Brand new DVD....

"LESTER SHEEPSHANKS BALLROOM MISHAPS - DVD"

'Rimco video entertainments are happy to offer you this delightful DVD for the smashing price of £7.99!! yes £7.99 buys you 90 minutes of hilarious ballroom accidents, scrapes, scandals and mishaps!!

Presented by Ballroom legend and 18 times British champion Lester Sheepshanks (CBE) this remarkable compilation is sure to delight hardened ballroom fans, Grannies, Mum's and all lovers of the medium of dance in general, highlights include:-

Harry Smith Hampshires infamous 1964 "fall" in front of the judges panel resulting in a rib tickling broken ankle for ol' Harry!!!,

Mavis Fekkit's amusing "bladder" incident in the 1987 Burnley challenge cup!!

and an array of bizzare and amusing accidents...

Les Sheepshanks says "Chuffin' ell, I've been gliding over dancefloors for over 50 years and I've seen some funny things, but this compendium of ballroom scrapes had me in chuffin' stiches, I tell you....."

Welcome....

Greetings and welcome to the world of Lester Sheepshanks, fans of the medium of ballroom will no doubt be aware of my work but for the uninitiated I am an 18 times British ballroom champion, dance choreographer, general entertainer and patron for several excellent charitable causes such as the Barrow in Furness damaged dog retreat and FOPS ( The federation of poorly Red Setters) - in memory of my late, faithful companion Toby.....

I live alone in the leafy commuter belt area of Barrow in Furness in my luxury 5 bedroom mock tudor mansion (which I purchased from my old friend Barrow based master butcher Selwyn Corbett) I am currently single as I'm far too busy with promoting the magic of dance and honouring the sacred memory of Mater'.

Hopefully this blog will be a vehicle to display my on-line diary, promote my work, publish my thoughts and opinions and also act as an official archive for my glorious career. I adore pork based products especially offal and advocate organic, humane slaughter and butchery of all the products that I consume.

I hope my one remaining true legacy to Barrow in Furness and beyond is simply that when I finally dance my last pasa doble and shuffle my final Rhumba - I will be remembered and honoured as Ol' Twinkle Toes.....the fookin' master of Dance!!!