By Ron
The Hotspur Press (Percy’s) is considered an historical building now, and, no less . . . a piece of iconic art of the Industrial Revolution. I visited about six years ago and walked around the almost empty structure. Occupying the former Composing Room were a group of young artists, I had a nice chat with them and they welcomed me recounting a little the history of the various floors, doors and some of our crazy antics in the day.
One of those jokes we played on a fellow Compositor, Adrian Hope. Adrian was an entertaining target due to his gullible nature, and vociferous apparent knowledge on all things (even when he was wrong). Of course, due to his character, Adrian was the perfect ‘victim’ for us apprentices.
Saturday morning overtime always brought a little more relaxed environment by management and workers — more time for apprentice capers!! We got busy and printed up a ready-made label on the proofing press, with words something like:
YOU HAVE WON A PRIZE BALLOON RACE, Call XXX-XXXX to claim your £20 prize
(of course the number was Adrian’s home – data protection was something in the future, far, far away…).
We waited for one of the workers from Dunlops Rubber factory, just a little further up Gloucester street, to push his heavy cart of steaming, smelly rubber past our door (usually two or three times a day), and we launched the balloon down, to land in his sightline.
The aged ‘grafter’ watched balloon drop down before him and his load, glanced upward (three of us teen ‘men-of-mischief’ had to duck inside the open window very quickly!), then he reached down and snatched the balloon with such gusto it burst in the dust. Without glancing at the label, he put it in his pocket, and hastened his laboured pace, as he trundled his load down towards Whitworth Street.
Of course, first thing Monday morning Adrian ‘opens up’ with his slightly upper-class tone, and loud complaint: “This horrible man keeps calling Jean and I . . . once before I got home Saturday, and twice again. Finally, after three calls on Sunday he demanded we send him money . . . something to do with a £20 balloon race . . . ?”
Half of the Composing Room staff of approximately 40, had already been forwarned of the latest ‘giggle-in-the-offing’ as Mr Hope continued to loudly describe his and his wife’s weekend of harassment.
Now, the natural stance of a compositor working at his frame with type, was slightly hunched due to the angle of the work surface , but, on that particular Monday I’d never seen so many ‘Comps’ stooped as low, as they stifled their laughter and tried to hide their guffaws. Occasionally one of the ‘lads’ would control their obvious amusement and attempt to reason the event with Adrian (this will have been Ron, for those who hadn’t already guessed, EDITOR), asking pointed questions, which added to the ‘piss-take’. This, not only brought more giggles, but, eventually inspired a ‘Faux response of bravado’ from Adrian as he declared “I told this fellow I might have to DO something if he didn’t stop calling our home, and then . . . he just started started swearing at me . . . “
By this point half the Comp room had been forced to retire to the toilets . . . cue, echoes of loud laughter!!!!
Just another typical day on the Comp Room at Percy Brothers, The Hotspur Press!! — circa 1965-1970