Life with dustmen in the theatrical belt

Press, 27 March 1980, Page 19

Life with dustmen in the theatrical belt

VIEWERS’ VIEWS

Frdm .KEN COATES in •Y, • London The stars. of film and jV may appear to be , aolden people in public, but they present different images to the men who e nipty. their dustbins. ‘ Jhe dustmen . of St George's’Hill, Weybridge, inf Surrey, the millionaire’s ro fr of London commuter land, have spoken out about serving the stars. Tension rises as soon as you go' through the gates, says 'one dustman. “You never know what they are going to say. _

“We get a bit of .the old acid from Eric Sykes who doesn’t seem to want to speak to us. “And our foreman warned me not to say good morning to Cliff Richard. But I did anyway ' — it * was a waste of time: he didn’t utter a word.” But Dick Emery got top marks from the dustmen, or “cleansing officers,” as they prefer to term them in such nice wooded sur-. roundings. “He is always nice to us and has a word,”- they said.

And the dancer, Peter Gordeno, who lives on four acres of high-priced land, was also voted a good chap: “We always get along with him.”

The dustmen are still waiting to meet the singer, Gilbert O’Sullivan, after taking away his rubbish for years. And what did the stars think of the dustmen?

“I am surprised,” said Eric Sykes, who has just returned from a tour of Kenya. “I certainly don’t mean to put any acid on the old dustmen. The trouble is, I have this hearing problem, and. I just can’t hear people.

“I am never the first to speak to people in case they reply and I can’t hear what they are saying.” Dick Emery was delighted to find he had been given the stamp of approval. “I don’t, forget my humble beginnings,” he said.' “I just adore the dustmen. They’re charming fellows. I often invite people like them in for a cup of tea, or a beer, and often I get material from them for my shows.” He says if he has anything awkward for the dustmen to take away, a plank, or something like that,’* he gives them a couple of quid and everyone js.happy. I can’t stand this idea that they are working class.”

Gilbert O’Sullivan, re-* nowned for his shyness, was not surprised the dustmen had never seen him.

“I’ve been here seven years, and I’m a virtual hermit,” he said. “My brother looks after the dustmen and things like that. I must make a point of meeting them one. morning.” Peter Gdrdeno’s wife, Angie, says her husband always chats to the dustmen. >

“He prefers them to thq neighbours,” she said.

■' -■ THE NEW TV ■; ‘J ' Sir,—The., lack of com-*, ment from the media re-i garding the recent TV consolidation could indicate that what I have to say below is nothing more than a bout of personal paranoia. After watching TV’s “News Report” last Friday, I am now convinced that those in power have virtually finalised their covert policy of depoliation. With only 6 per cent of the whole of TV’s

weekly programmes devoted to current affairs, we find that, even where the original format survives, the critical interpretation of political news relevant to New Zealanders has been leached out

and replaced with nugato-. ry, non-controversial matter that is so boring it does not even qualify as entertainment. What better way to make the most dynamic of subjects — politics — so uninteresting, as to give our machiavellian policy makers justification to discontinue even what remains of our current affairs programmes? Yours etc L. J. ROBINSON