About

What was the purpose of Blue Pedro, the ShyTalk kids club?

Officially, ‘a fun club to get to know your ShyTalk heroes and explore the world of pigeon related trivia and appreciate dirty meat and its animal origins’, that’s how they sold it and that’s what thousands of Britain’s pre-teens bought into – which all sounds somewhat tawdry to me.

By far the most likely explanation appears to be a cheap source of child actors and the opportunity for Stu to shag their mums.

Interestingly though, Noz has been heard to recollect on a number of occasions his fond memories of being a member of the Desperate Dan fanclub and the joy he experienced as a Pie Eaters Club newsletter hit his letterbox. If you own any of the Blue Pedro ‘treat sheets’ their own quarterly postal correspondance, badges or special offers please contact us – fair prices paid.

The big mystery remains who was Blue Pedro kid #1 ? We have hunted down kids 2-6 and 8-17, most of whom refused to comment, preferring to keep this phase of their life completely hidden from their new families, with child 12, Tegan C stating ‘There was nothing wrong with it per se, it just wasn’t nice – dirty meat is always fun, but why were 10 year-olds being encouraged to chat cheese maturation speeds and lard rendering processes. I did enjoy the supplements on linen soiling – until someone spilled the meat to me whilst at uni – I was mortified.’ Others like child 16 (anonymity requested) echoes Dale describing ShyTalk as ‘bastards’:

…although they used the term ‘monkey strangling penis graters’. Who can guess the influence of Blue Pedro on these young people’s emotional development, but no-one can question the impact on their imagination and verbal dexterity.

By this point onwards, our intrepid broadcasters entered a long series of managers, some like Barnabus Finch lasted months, Adrian Rexworthy nearly lasted a year, others like Paul ‘Nice Guy’ Pearce only survived 23 minutes. The reason? Rexworthy baldly stated ‘Noz is insufferable, Jim is inflammatory, Stu is indefensible and Dogger incomprehensible’ – no arguments here. However, manager extraordinaire Mike ‘no relation to Kenny’ Lynch (7 months) saw it as his mission after the Eurovision near-success of ‘Bang your Boom Boom Baby’ to get the boys passports and visit the uber keen continental crowds – rumours that he may also have been in league with Stu’s smuggling gang remain unsubstantiated as Lynch unfortunately passed in 2012 (after complications linked to an undiagnosed elongated spleen), although he was once drunkenly quoted as saying ‘I got into ShyTalk Radio on the promise of a weed grow, instead I was delivered greed woe’.

During one of their regular interviews with Tabitha Taylor of Pop Tart teen magazine, when asked about the upshot of the European dates Dogger said through his ever-present ball gag, ‘er-up mm er mm-i-cah mm-st-ee tor, er kmm-ber-i-shh er se-k-shll ik-pl-reshun, piri-toll mm-id-vensh-a nn a dg kll-a-k-shnn’. Years later, Jim the most fluent in Dogger-ese attempted to translate
Jim: ‘I am pretty certain he’s saying “Europe was our magical mystery tour, a combination of sexual exploration, spiritual misadventure and a drug ???-?-?-????” – no-one has ever worked out what that last word was.’
Noz took over: ‘But that’s what we loved about Dogger, he was a genius of interpretation and misunderstanding’
Jim: ‘This was a huge part of the ShyTalk sound and style’.

Unfortunately for us, much of the record of what went on in Europe was writen by Jeremy Tinkerton – Stu later told Taylor ‘Don’t trust Tinkerton, half of what he reported was true, the other half true for him and yet another half the fantasist ramblings of a narcissistic media whore’, but to be fair, can we trust a word of what comes out of Stu’s mouth either?

Most agree, it was Paris where the sex, drugs and debauchery took hold. Dutch Boy P the promoter not only seemed able to cater for all the lads’ desires (not an easy task with this disolute, curious and inventive four part trio), but he also seemed to take perverse pleasure in throwing substances and situations into the mix – ‘…like a cross between Fanny Craddock and Dr Frankenstein – just to see what perversities of nature he could bring to pass’ Noz would say at P’s funeral over a closed coffin due to the extreme violence of his turf war demise. Yet the reasons are irrelevant, the die was cast the boys behaved how they did, and the shows were superb. Eindhoven was smooth, most notable for the debut of the I think I did a dream sketch and Dogger’s faultless production. Belgium was cancelled, ‘Forget the Petite La Fleur and linen stuff’ Stu barked at me once (although Europe was where the ShyRegard for dirty linen took hold), ‘it was Jim poncing about in the nude at customs which got us barred’. Noz disagrees ‘I wish Stu would get past this whole “have a go at Jim at every opportunity – thing”, but the real animosity was a thing of the future’. Lynch gave his own take ‘They were all still getting on but got consumed by their egos, playing the comedy rockstar thing, they weren’t falling out with each other, more’ he paused in thought, ‘self-absorbed. You have to remember, Noz had never been abroad before, Jim had never shot the monkey’s dagger before, Stu felt he had been given carte blanche for just about everything and Dogger never felt he had been listened to before – which was ironic, as this is when his ball gag became an ever present accoutrement’.

Even if the personalities were starting to draw demarcations the showmansip never faultered, the international audiences lapped them up and the high-points were stratosphonic. Sketches like Butterscotch Labia titilated, Opium Popsicle thrilled and Knocked down, Knocked up, Knocked out, trail blazed, with ShyTalk Radio spearheading a rise in social satire which gave a dimension to their work that appealed to the serious politico as much as the stoner surrealists their comedy peers attracted.

‘Wow – France, seriously wow!’ Noz was heard to repeatedly utter having finally found his European feet and putting his grade ‘D’ French GCSE to good use. ‘Fuck me, France,’ Jim echoed ‘they got us unlike anywhere else, who would have credited it – especially considering Dogger’s well publicised Francophobe commentry’ (Lady Penelope later illuminated the situation ‘My father had several, increasingly nasty, encounters with General de Gaulle – he [Dogger] was very close to his Grand Papa’. They played five gigs in France to universal acclaim and increasing media exposure – but it was not seen as a healthy period for either their bodies or their egos. ‘I was a fucking super star in France – I remember one morning…that’s it I remember one morning’ Stu told regional West Country TV presenter Kendle McCloud twelve years late, ‘none of the sights, none of the travelling, none of the gigs – but the applause stayed with me’.

Five gigs later, our very washed out, dishevelled, slightly broken cohort of comedy clever clogs tramped into Sweden like a band of cryptic refugees. Each with their own recollections ‘Thank God for Sweden’ Jim reminisced ‘I needed their Nordic sanity’, ‘I forgot to stop speaking French – which kept putting Dogger on edge’ Noz recalls, ‘Scandinavian adulation just wasn’t the same, more… restrained’ Stu lamented, Lynch puts this in context, ‘Stu was a dick, always contrary, insisted on performing Barely Legal Teenage Volvo. I was mortified, so were the authorities – I was eager to skip town and see Luxemburg, until…’. Noz continues one of the most oft repeated European stories ‘In Gothenburg bar we met a tattooist and all got tattoos saying ‘ShyTalk Radio – Vi tar komedi på största allvar’ [we take comedy very seriously], except Mike’s [Lynch] which again in Swedish said ‘I masturbate into Luxembourg’s flag’ – Luxembourg was our next gig. I don’t know who was most angry Mike or the customs official!’. ‘Of course it was Stu’s idea, of course we all blamed Dogger’ Jim mused years later, ‘and of course Lynch resigned, but not before giving both Stu and Dogger a good slap. That tattoo is one of my biggest regrets, despite despite being followed by our most lucrative period, without Lynch’s steady hand on the tiller, we were soon adrift – almost literally in the North Sea – a vanity project that soon killed off ShyTalk Radio and almost killed us too’.

The snowballing success was in fact a hiatus in the madness, fuelled by a stream of die hard British fans followed our heroes around the continent, and through word of mouth and postcards home whetted the appetite of the British press ‘Our fans acted like drunken carrier pigeons’ Noz exclaimed. Comedy ripples turned into a humour movement, the numerous television appearances funded their next venture and desent into recrimination and madness, a new chapter awaited.

The summer of 1999 was considered both the high and low point in the history of ShyTalk Radio.  They were certainly at their peak in terms of exposure, but the quality of their content is thought to have plateaued long before this. Inside squabbles and differences in opinion regarding direction, royalties and linen policy had ShyTalk heading into a creative tail spin with a knock-on effect on the quality of their output, resultantly, the radio broadcasts were haemorrhaging listeners.

Earlier that year, Noz had married his 4th wife, Ginger, a successful concert promoter. She had arranged for ShyTalk to perform the stage version of their show at several summer music festivals and appear as a support act for various bands popular at the time. Hoping this move away from the more recent audio-only format would not only rekindle the groups camaraderie and inspire material in the same way the early Storm FM ‘gigs’ had, but also help bring ShyTalk to a more mainstream audience (bringing in some much needed money, a resource they were seriously lacking – Stu’s increasing paranoia had curtailed his dealing and the financial bedrock it had hitherto provided).

The stage shows were met with mixed reactions, however. Die-hard fans seemed to welcome the new format but people who were unfamiliar with ShyTalk were left feeling bemused, dejected and often terrified. Almost all of the live stage shows ended with them being booed off stage, usually in a hail of bottles, shoes, and cups of fresh piss (a far cry from the chunks of braising steak and cups of offal they were accustomed to).

They were notoriously inconsistent in how they interacted with other acts, veering from antagonistic to overly friendly. Legendary super groupie has been and paramore of Noz, Vanilla Kitten stated, ‘from my experience, it’s quite normal for a band with that much talent to behave in such an ambivert manner, they can’t compete in the normal way, so as one pushes, another pulls. When one is up, the other… you get the picture – now where’s that line you promised me’. Noz’s well publicized statement that ‘sharing a stage with anyone who wasn’t Elvis, The Beatles or Dollar was beneath them’, didn’t endear them to the either the industry or the proposed new fan base.

It is unclear what exactly happened at the V99 Festival, but they were forced to move their performance to a later day. In typical fashion it appears Stu and James Brown were in the green room, happily sharing tips regarding guns, drugs and high speed chases when Jim deliberately provoked Brown by espousing inflammatory arguments in favour of commercial dolphin farming (a cause Brown was on record as opposing). Allegedly, this quickly escalated into a near fist fight, with Jim repeatedly grabbing the Soul legend by the lapels and telling him to ‘get up’ before pushing back into his seat with a predictable ‘get on down’. Witnesses insist had it not been the quick thinking of The Beautiful South’s Paul Heaton, it would have likely ended in hospitalisation and arrest for at least one of the participants. As a result, festival organisers insisted that all members of ShyTalk were ejected from the tent immediately, despite Brown suggesting Stu should stay.

This however led to the Shaun Ryder affair which he recollected in a now infamous interview with Katie Puckrik on ‘The Word’, declaring he would ‘never, never, get wasted the ShyTalk way again’ describing Dogger’s pecadillos and Stu’s general behaviour as being ‘a bit much, innit’.

The problems continued when the ShyTalk team acted as comperes for a one-off gig by Rolf Harris. Although Harris seemed to get on surprisingly well with them, the rest of his band were not as accepting of their idiosyncrasies. Shortly before the show was due to start, the didgeridoo player (a key element of the live act) left the building in a flood of tears after being propositioned by Dogger and Jim had a (now increasingly formulaic) naked altercation with the drummer leaving him without the use of his forearms for a week

_{[editor: clarification needed was this the arms of Jim or the Drummer?]}

After the failure of the live shows, the sacking of another manager, a trip to Hereford and a return to the drug induced chaotic boredom of the oil rig, the radio shows quickly degenerated further.  Animosity between the members grew stronger and many shows were abandoned part way through, or, out of necessity performed by a solitary ShyTalker guided by an increasingly unstable Dogger. This gentle soul, friend to them all, was perhaps more deeply impacted than anyone the degenerated into an acrimonious indifference by this once tight knit friendship group of unparalelled musical and comedic vision .

Feeding off the success of the live shows, with much of the scandalous behaviour being kept behind closed doors (as is usually the way in celebrity circles) Rexworthy now at the helm, a hardened manager who knew how to make his charges behave found ShyTalk numerous invites onto panel shows and daytime talk programmes. Apearences on Win, Lose and Draw , Celebrity Family Fortunes and Call My Bluff were fan favourites – with Stu hilariously being given the word Quincunx to bluff (the shape of a five on a dice). More mixed reactions amongst the team came from the Give Us a Clue ShyTalk Special ‘I have never been happier’ Jim translated for Dogger ‘never has my ball gag been less of a hinderance – even if I did have to appear on the girls team’. Noz however, was furious ‘Nobody told me it was a reboot – you knew playing charades with Lionel Blair was a dream of mine’ he screamed into the face of his soon to be ex-wife Ginger. The ShyTalk team also comported themselves well on the chat circuit, sounding cogent and compelling when discussing censorship on The Time, The Place with John Stapleton saying he was ‘pleasantly surprised’ and swapping numbers with Noz. Even with Richard and Judy the trio presented as funny and polite, leading fans to insist Stu must have been sedated (and hardcore fans suggesting a body double).

Whilst no-one talks about Hereford, almost anyone involved with ShyTalk has something to say about Dirty Meat. It is remarkable how the ShyTalk fan community (Shy-sters) embraced many of the most far fetched conceits the our talented trio gifted to the world.

Sociologists of music and popular culture have suggested ShyTalk filled a deep seated need to satisfy a rebellious tribal belonging that wasn’t being fulfilled in the late 90s for the goth, emo and grunge communities. Soon you had competing factions within the Shy-Community, (towelmen, pigeon fanciers and shyters to name a few), each embracing their own fantasy – even Noz-tops and Jim-gimps emerged – dark days. The most frequent celebrations, as we all know, included soiled linen, cheese whistling and squirrel baiting – but none embraced the public imagination as much as the slapping of dirty meat and attendant practices – as any officer at Moregate Grove will attest with its notorious A wing soon overflowing with deviant meat heads. But why?

Beth January (friend and wannabe groupie) is certain it started with the sketch Butcher Shop Bordello but whilst it hinted at raunchy dancing around the meat counter, no-one can remember any meat slapping. Fellow Angelsey performer Elton Costello remembers a gig where a naked Jim screamed ‘Flay me with bacon and ham’, but this was slapping Jim with meat, not, Jim slapping meat. Where did the dirty meat fetish originate then? Thompson Jones (Bangor Oceanography lecurerer and part-time local historian) took an interest in the affair and remembers researching an early meat throwing gig ‘I think Stu picked up on the dark comedic potential of Jims “meat ‘n’ nudity” exclamations and wrote sketches like Pork Chop Punch Chump, Tripe Stomp, and, It’s Raining Meat – hallelujah! the last especially led to fans throwing offal and offcuts at the stage during performances’. It is my theory that fans, keen for any ephemera, would seek out pieces of post gig meat off of the venue floor – which by its very nature was dusty and soiled — dirty meat! Next, the media conflated this with the sketches and BINGO! we have ‘ShyTalk Spank their Dirty Meat’ headlines. Fans read the reports, imitate the acts and BOOM! more headlines and more extreme Shy behaviour.

It ended up being a media circus, meat-fest uproar – and not in a good way. TV appearances dried up overnight, councils threatened to revoke the licenses of venues with ShyGigs booked – at one gig in Caerphilly the ShyTeam were met by protest hymn singers and a Pentecostal preacher.

We can begin to see the appeal of running away to the hidey hole utopia of the ShyRig, a decomissioned north sea oil rig,

People have often asked me, ‘Mr Queensman, what is the proudest moment of your life?’ Easy, being invited aboard the ShyRig to perform in the sketch ‘Meat Hole Sailor’ (I was one of the background shanty singers). It easily eclipses even the birth of my children – let’s face it, kids come and go, but being a part of the ShyTalk canon is irreplaceable.

The team bought the decommissioned oil rig, possibly for tax purposes, possibly artistic or idealistic reasons, but to quote their then manager Bernie Davison, ‘Probably because they thought they were a bunch of fucking rock stars.’ Others have said it was a wonderful vision, a brief snatch at a Shy-topia.

Who knows exactly what beautiful agony occurred on that bleak man-made island? Some great sketches obviously, who can forget the hilarity of Shopping Channel Tunnel which regularly appears in the ShyFan top ten sketch list. Gimp Suite is polished, irreverent and subversive without feeling forced and Busted Mustard good old anarchic surrealism. Yet the dream crashed and literally burned. The conflagration was well publicised, yet today separated by years and careers, I am less concerned with the fire and more interested in the artistic and psychological flames that burned so brightly – then out of control and finally dimmed into smouldering resentments. All this in the fitting topography of the North Sea – cold, wild and desolate. Rather fitting for the demise of the pigeon pack, especially knowing what we know today.

I thought the best way to present this seismic period in comedy history was to speak to the people who were there. Find out who lit the fateful match and what made the time bomb tick. 

We begin, of course, with the meat surfing, pavement polishing trio themselves.

‘It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.’ Stu said about his time on the oil rig.

‘No, it was just the worst of times,’ Noz echoed looking the more Dickensian of the two.

‘I wanted to build a land of meat and honey,’ Jim mourned ‘a haven to be free, be creative, and party unashamedly naked.’

What we know for sure is the oil rig began as 3 men and Dogger, with the temporary resources of B-list celebrities and the drug habits of cartel bosses. It ended in a breakup, at least one breakdown, burn out and a burning down.

‘The vision was simple,’ Jim says ‘buy an island, live communally and be really creative.’

‘…and do loads of drugs’ Stu chipped in.

‘It succeeded on so many levels – until it failed,’ Jim added in a tone saddled with saddened pride.

‘And boy did it fail,’ Noz added, in a distraught whimper.

Thus it started, due to their success in Europe their egos were as inflated as their bank balances and before the tour was even over, they purchased the rig (October 1999). Without forethought, planning permission or even a full refurb, they moved aboard at the beginning of November, happily continuing the dissolute lifestyle they had recently become accustomed to. Adding a number of successful supporting gigs, TV and festival appearances they felt unstoppable, and broadcast their first show on 28^th November 1999 – still celebrated annually by the Scottish ShyCon. 

Alexander Bridge, a friend from the early days, was gobsmacked, ‘It was incredible, I was there for the first bash – I think Noz wanted to show off how well he’d done for himself, he still made me pay for my own flight though. The quarters were undeniably basic, but the studios were cutting edge, Dogger wouldn’t settle for anything less – as were the Acid Dungeon and Ketamine Hole – two rooms solely designed for your drug taking pleasure. For a suburban boy like me, the Glee Caves were a real eye-opener, it was the first time I’d ever seen barbed wire BDSM knickers. Dogger had his own sex cupboard though, and I was wisely warned to never look inside.’

Jim continues, ‘Part of the appeal was supplies could only be shipped in every two weeks, although this made us slaves to the Aberdeen fishing fleet, it also meant our visitors could only arrive fortnightly. The trawler men were cool though, they would stay and party for the weekend, then take our guests back to the mainland with them.’ 

Noz chips in, ‘To begin with we insisted people left, so we could concentrate on our art – after a while we insisted they stayed.’ 

Early rig trippers elaborate.

Garth Horton, a sound-land visitor gives us an insight into the early days, ‘I was part of the dogger pound, a group of cutting edge, autistic sound engineers. What a privilege it was to work as part of Dogger’s famous ceiling of sound, we called ourselves ‘sonic explorers’ it was like Dogger was the illegitimate offspring of Derbyshire and Shackleton. He would spend every working hour transgressing the boundaries of what was considered acceptable in the audio field – he would always insist on ceasing work at exactly four minutes to midnight though.’

Most would agree that the material in the early rig days was undeniably at the top of their canon – Geoff Capes Told me to Fuck Off (their fourth rig show) is consistently brilliant, with Fear of the Mouse Clowns a tour de farce [sic], I think I did a dream, insightfully thought provoking and Olympic Trinket providing a scathing piece of sporting satire – proving the ShyTalk lads really could turn their comedy hands to anything.

Jeff Pinter, founder of Dalai Llama-soft and regular ShyRig reveller gives his own pixilated take on the parties, ‘The festivities were legendary (as in, lots of the stories were pure fiction), don’t get me wrong, crazy bacchanalian shit was going down, but people were pulling strings to get invited just so they could brag about the insane stuff they saw or got involved in. It was a cycle of boastful exaggeration leading to crazier sex, crazier drugs, a crazier crew and ultimately crazier sketches – come on, we’ve all heard the last half a dozen episodes Jim, Noz and Stu just weren’t right in the head by the end and poor, poor Dogger was never that right to begin with.’

Bambi QT the resident dominatrix told me, ‘It was the most fun I’ve had in my life, and it paid for all this,’ she waves a hand indicating a gorgeously decorated, three storey Georgian town house, ‘I was provided with the most fabulous dressing up box, Swiss guard uniforms, circus apparel, G-force flight suit, you know – the usual. Yes, the meat stuff was undeniably weird and the sex shit was not for the faint hearted, but what do you expect – this was ShyTalk at their wealthiest and most dissolute.’

Chemical Dennis, alleged in-house drug dealer, shot me a dirty look ‘Fuck off with the ‘alleged’ I provided them with all their finest hardcore chemical needs, if you wanted weed, mushrooms or natural DMT you went to Herbal Henry, otherwise you came to me.’ Asked about the rig scene, ‘It was fucked up, they were fucked up, I was fucked up – but I made a fortune.’

Yet who could keep such shifting tectonic plates spinning?

‘When I first arrived, they partied hard but the sketches were flowing. The work was solid if not a little more – how shall we say… incorporeal.’ Stated Larry Bryson, on board photographer. ‘I was privileged to work and party with the boys, but being a snap jockey allowed me to get close and spend alone time with each of them. I felt for Dogger though, the gang were cutting corners, getting distracted, and it frustrated his fragile temperament, he was like a cordon bleu chef of sound – only used to working with the finest ingredients. Jim, Noz and Stu’s behaviour was an affront to his art’

Bryson is correct in his assertions, by episode 33, Broken to Order we clearly see evidence of laziness, half-hearted writing and poor performances – but this is ShyTalk Radio we are speaking of and flashes of gold still appeared amongst the mundane everyday broadcasting sludge. Slipper my meat sack, an understandable fan favourite, The Ballad of Captain Oblivious and the Balance Challenged Five received critical acclaim, Noz’s multi-instrumental performance in Occupation Jazz slut is superlative and in A kid called Marmite Jim and Stu bounce off each other with a creative friction only they could create.

‘Look a little deeper,’ said Garth Horton ‘their homo-genius dream vision was quickly turning into toxic pot gimp goo. I remember wishing I had a mind ladle and could just scoop out all the unnecessary brain gronk.’ He paused visibly upset, ‘It was getting too much for Dogger and he increasingly sought refuge in his cupboard, I was warned never to ask what he did there, but would regularly see him retreating to his sexual safe space with a carrier bag of offal, all manner of nipple stickers and a well-thumbed copy of Mail Order Corpse Bride.’

Niamh Nelson, the second of their three managers on the rig, tells her story. ‘I was asked to get involved after the previous manager, Roland Mustafa, disappeared. He finally turned up on A92 wearing only a sou’wester, its pockets overflowing with old black pudding, him clutching a well-oiled electronic Hamster – typical ShyBehaviour! I jumped at the chance though, I mean who wouldn’t? Just stuffed my duffel bag with some filthy linen, a pussy gag, my three favourite cheese graters and a gift of some sausage eclairs for the lads.’ Lost in wistful thought I prompted her and she resumed, ‘I joined in February 2000, you can hear me in the background of Pencil Sniffer shouting “Leave Noz’s socks alone”, who would have thought that would be a high point – by the end of April I was gone. Listening figures had already started to dip a little, but after Clunk, Click, Diana’s Shit they became regular hate figures in the mainstream press. Then the excreta really hit the rotor blades with the release of Detention at Columbine. Even I struggled with the content – and I consider myself a hard-core squirrel baiter. Noz, in his paranoia, he had banned outside media from the rig, but Lobster John, one of our fishermen friends, would bring me word of the onshore furore. In an attempt to appease the braying media hounds, I offered myself up and resigned – it was a sad day, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit it was tempered with just a little relief.’

Can you imagine life on the ShyRig readers? Just the four of them 24/7 – then every fortnight a 48-hr invasion of managers, groupies, hangers on and fresh supplies of drugs – Sandie, our researcher, tried to recreate the set up and barely lasted a month. Admittedly, she had to substitute the oil rig for a bedsit in Oswestry, but the point was proved when she stumbled back into our office begging for redundancy. I for one feel for the lads as I remember clearly noticing the dissemblance of brilliance whilst I listened to their Saturday night output on my portable radio. Thinking, even then, that the titles of the shows themselves were spelling out the slow decline and inner turmoil fomenting within the offshore pigeon coup. 

‘Realising they were lost at sea,’ said physics apologist Morgan Thomas – not to be confused with fellow Welshman and frequent ShyPartier Thomas Morgan, ‘they decided to double down and (briefly) clean their act up, Dogger even wrote a couple of sketches trying to stem the tide of rot, the truly awful Please Pass Me By and the surprisingly good Cephalopod Jardinière which became the centre piece of the episode Innocence is no defence in the eyes of the law generally regarded as their last good show. It reminded us why we used to camp out covered only in meat swaddling.’

‘This is what it was like,’ said Aurora De’Ath, resident shy-artist, ‘we were dealing with three huge egos and an eccentric aristocrat – so we all went along with it. We pussy footed around and pampered them, nobody wanted to risk ruining it – they were our cash cow and we were all, in effect, vegetarian.’

Consensus suggests any member of the core team could have spoken up and altered things, but they had their own individual weird shit going on – Jim was lashing himself to anything that resembled a mast, Noz was going through his psychic lying and worrisome lust phase and Stu, well we all know what Stu was up to – despite no-one being prepared to discuss it. Nobody expected Dogger to speak up, not with his new found peccadillos for flavouring the goose, shaking granny’s lampshade and tarmac facials. As a result, listening figures plummeted and the papers continued to ramp up the hate. 

Legendary groupie Strawberry Shortbread continues, ‘I went to the Lego pantry, an old defunct boiler room, with a giant bowl of liver-blancmange. Having already bedded the Fur Baby Fucktard and the Pastry Knocker, I was determined to finally seduce the Ferret-Faced Fuck Prince himself – I had even changed my name by deed poll to assist my pursuit. The sight that greeted my eyes though, both astonished and disgusted me in equal measure, a life size Lego gothic crypt draped in rotting meat. We had all heard the sketches and seen them mucking around with a bit of laminated ham at the parties, joking about meat showers – but I could never have foreseen this. Rats scampering over old maggot infested flesh, as he sat atop a Lego gantry wearing only a bejewelled Damien Hurt plague mask and a grubby towel as a cape. He was shouting inane crossword clues and yanking his… let’s just say, I couldn’t tell if the blood was his own or not. Admittedly, the next show included the sketch 23 across – Priapism of Pity, with remarkable similarities to the scene I had witnessed. It is not my job to question the creative process – but, put it this way, I never listened to another ShyTalk episode.’

Worst of all for any self-regarding Shyster, Towelman or Dirty Meat Aficionado, the team turned on each other. With the unity of the ShyCrew at stake drastic action needed to be taken. Business associates called in old friend Chillum Williams to bring resolution and act, as it turned out, as their last manger.

‘There had always been simmering conflict between Jim and Stu,’ Williams says ‘and it frequently worked for them, but it was getting unnecessarily spiteful. Noz, usually a settling and arbitrary force, was potless, sockless and witless. What’s worse, they all bullied Dogger and no-one deserved it less than the mouse mitted maestro – he had found refuge in ShyTalk, thought he had finally found his calling and some… friends. Stu’s continual threats of imminent bite violence understandably scared him, Jim sticking his genitals and bare arse into his face at any given opportunity was an affront to his dignity and Noz’s ceaseless petty theft undermined what little self-respect remained. Cruellest of all though, they inserted their digs into the sketches! Each knowing he would pore his soul into every episode, forcing himself to listen and re-listen to each skit in an attempt to reach the auditory perfection only he would settle for.’

Then came the fire. No one knows the exact origins, that miserable lonely night with just the four of them aboard. A nine day ‘party’ had come to an end, ‘I’ve had more fun in a morgue,’ stated Ribena Cooke, bassist for disco band DeFunkt ‘no seriously,’ she stressed ‘I have.’  

Emma Fine author of Dope Face Courage – ShyTalk and Recovery, blames Stu, and a misplaced crack pipe. 

‘I know it was Jim,’ aired Josh Rogan conspiracy podcaster and ShyTalk alumni, ‘a deliberate sabotage. All he had done for the last six days of the event was moan about the collapse of his opus magnus and being repeatedly mistaken for one of the inhouse chimney whores.’ 

‘I always thought it was Noz in the kitchen with the blow torch,’ said the Professor Pflaume resident expert of ShyStudies at the University of Vienna.

‘Everyone knows you can’t trust Dogger with matches’ added anyone and everyone we asked.

Some point a meat drenched digit at the inhouse vertical conga team who had been experimenting with tantric welding – had this caused structural damage interfering with the electrics? Others still mention the exposé by Fisherman’s Weekly, that the rig had been dumping untreated toxic faecal meat into the ocean and an imminent inspection by the environment agency was expected – surely enough to scuttle the rig and jump ship to avoid prosecution.

Whatever the causes, we all know the story that followed, one lifeboat, Jim naked and shivering, Noz catatonic and no Stu. Dogger raving that having been lost at sea for so long cannibalism had been their only option – it had been three hours. 

After hospital and psychiatric stays for the ShySurvivors and ceaseless media appeals hunting for Stu’s whereabouts, press coverage softened. The search for Stu’s body ended and a period of mourning followed. 

But do we know the full story? Some of the more credible conspiracy sites point to how upset certain government ministers were by the scathing brilliance of the sketch Hansard and Gretel. Many claim there were fans and hangers on left behind in the darker recesses of the rig when most revellers were shore bound. Post fire reports indicate three life boats were released, if one were for the lads, one we later discovered was for Stu, then who was on the never recovered third raft? 

One thing we know for sure was the dream was over. The cess pit paradise of the People’s republic of ShyTalk literally had nowhere to go. There would be no more rat folding, razor licking or vacuuming the gerbil and no more meat espressos. The ShyRig motto of I’ll try anything once except incense and folk darning was both liberating and limiting. Perversely turning our troubled troupe into rule bound anarchists – restricted by a straightjacket of breaking conventions which became moribund and mundane.

In many ways, the hellish experiences on the rig scripted the future. Noz’s breakdown and revolutionary use of medicinal shoplifting fuelled his Lego themed recovery and second more temperate career. Jim’s belligerent attitude towards his naturism led to his ground breaking TV shows. Stu prompted national indignation when he was tracked down by intrepid ShyReporters emerging from a brothel in Belarus and claiming all manner of unlikely adventures, fuelling the rumour mills and filling the column inches ‘just as Stu would want it’ Jim said voicing everyone’s thoughts. 

And Dogger? his deep unhappiness and rejection of everything he had aspired to, led him to shun the material realm and explore the outskirts of the spiritually acceptable – except no-one knows where. If you are out there Dogger, please get in touch.

During the interviews Beth January probably summed it up best ‘It’s nice to finally be able to talk about it all’. For me, Jamie Queensman, the talk of a reunion finally appears more than idle chit-chat, rumour has it the lads are actually talking again. If you were there last time around – dust off that monkey motor and turn it on – if you are new to ShyTalk Radio jump aboard that crazy yonic tonic trampoline – if you dare.

Dogger’s involvement with ShyTalk Radio is perceived by those who knew him best. His mother Lady Penelope practically yelled at us ‘They broke him in every conceiveable way, and some never previously considered’ before slamming the phone down, presumably to suck on the gin soaked meat teat she has been firmly attached to since Paris. Whereas childhood ‘friend’ Rupert StJohn-Smythe said it was the making of Dogger ‘he had always been bullied at boarding school “mousey mitts Montague” we called him – innocent stuff, but as an 8 year old waking up and finding that written in ketchup on your dorm curtains – well it can affect a child’. Dogger famously sought refuge in the music room and for us, thank goodness he did, Barrington Blygh his music teacher continues ‘at first he came to the music room to hide poking one key on the piano for hours on end – trust me that was preferable to the dark thoughts he used to voice – it still visits me in my dreams sometimes. Slowly though, he gained a proficiency, fiercly autodidactic – he was always open to new musical experiences, I would bring him in LPs and new instruments and he would just take the best they had to offer – I loved that musical boy!’

He was soon performing regularly, Lady P showed us his teenage clippings and posters. The Spanking Clare Herald lauded him as ‘Cumbria’s answer to Mike Oldfield – but posher’. An article in Piano Proud labelled him a ‘personal philharmonic pantomath’. But showing us a scrapbook we can see the homemade posters he akwardly penned as a teenager, where he simply describes himself ‘Dogger Montague – the one man band’, Lady Penelope adds as an after thought ‘He was a very lonely child’.

Like all passionate marriages that fail, the ShyTalk divorce was messy. But with no money or children to fight over, character assassination was the order of the day and an ever interested media provided the forum. ‘It’s the first time dirty linen wasn’t a positive in the Shy-verse,’ Noz moaned ‘only an unenlightened fool washes their dirty linen though’. Bitterness turned quickly to hatred and metamorphised into sabotage. Verbal attacks and diss tracks led to physical assault (and in at least one well documented event) defiling of a grave. Law suits followed, the papers lost interest and life carried on in a ShyFree manner.

Whilst I would happily describe myself as a super-ShySter, even I struggle to follow the machinations that followed. In short, Jim initially got ‘the career’ with his award winning nudity themed TV shows. Stu got lots of careers both inside and outside of media (and the law). Noz, debatedly, recovered from his breakdown and found solace as he always had in Lego and women. And Dogger? who knows, speculation abounds – spiritual awakening or cultural revolutions appear the most common speculation.

That is until this year, when news broke regarding…

The reunion?

Could it be true?
Interviews suggest yes!

Can they overcome the rancour of their wilderness years?
Interviews suggest yes!

Are they producing new music and material?
Interviews suggest yes!

Will Dogger be joining them?
No!

Watch this space – a new show has been heralded for the New Year.
Be the first to hear of all new ShyTalk news, broadcasts and publications here!

With me, keeping my monkey motor ticking over,
Jamie Queensman