As a kid stood on the wall of the Pop Side, I remember Arthur wandering up and down the front of the Pop Side. A wizened, weather beaten, well wrinkled face. A few strands of whisky grey hair. One or two strategically placed teeth and invariably wearing a suit and wellies.

He loved having a go at the liner, following the poor chap up and down and IIRC his favourite word was ‘shithouse’. I got squashed once as the old fool lunged at the liner. No liner in their right mind would have got close enough to the Pop to have been collared by Arthur!