Bemusing, mind twisting art gallery description that only clever people pretend to
understand:
Not drunk enough to do one.
NAGSD (Non Art Gallery Style Description).
Joss Naylor, famous Cumbrian fell runner (seventy six is the new 25), leaps majestically between
two Lake District peaks. Yes, he can run up and down rocky mountains too! Not just cissy grassy
mounds. In the background, the Sun sets Sellafield glows (the Sun has already set ... easy mistake). The
Irish Sea is calm and the Isle of Man glows green in its early evening greyness (why’s that?).
How much more beautiful do you want? Less green?
Joss Naylor is a famous fell runner (among fell runners), a sheep farmer, a family man, and a
Sellafield worker. Recently, at 76, he ran several thousand miles over the fells with only a bowl of
porridge for breakfast (that’s what it said in the Whitehaven news). Joss is also famous for ‘running’ the
Biggest Liar in the World competition each year at the Bridge Inn at Santon Bridge, Holmrook, Cumbria.
Me? I’m a storyteller from Coventry who grew up in Millom, which is about twenty six miles from
the Bridge Inn, but being from Coventry and majestically un-rich, I can’t get there. I have recently
published in e book format, a book about Millom first written twelve years ago when Millom had a spot
of bother ... by the way, please turn the clock off I haven’t begun my tale yet ... it’s a ‘different’ book to
say the least, and is available from the Wonky Bookshop on www.frankie-lassut.com.
This then is my entry for the next Biggest Liar competition, which is probably null and void, as this
is the truth. Joss mate, I’m sorry (not).
Ok, start the clock please.
I was friendly with Joss because I shared the same changeroom with him at Sellafield, and as I was
next to him locker-wise, I, and only I, knew his ‘secret’. After a gruelling days radioactive work in the
harshness of a Cumbrian Winter, us ragged overalled philanthropical Sellafield workers would be glad to
get back to the changeroom for a hot shower before being released to return home. We would get in the
communal shower and as we washed, we struck poses for ‘Mr Sellafield’, which is similar to Mr
Universe. We would make ourselves shiny and slippery with soap, then ‘pull off’ poses like Arnie.
We also, quite naturally would have a biggest ‘you know what’ contest, which I used to win each
year during the Summer (when everyone else had gone on holiday) ... but that’s another story.
Everyone was happy;.the contaminated soap suds would disappear down the plughole on their way to the
landfill at Drigg, which was a relief. Everything would be going exceptionally well, when all of a sudden
there would be screams of agony and bodies would fight to get out of the doorway to the drying area. The
