I remember him as Hobo Rick. He used to play the little social club by me Ma's. Good lad. As for stories, Vic, he tells one in his own book, having to do one off our estate, sharpish, when Hubby come home and near collared him and the Missus. Our estate was like a maze. Early hours of the morning, shitting himself, lost, walking round in circles, couldn't get a taxi or bus. It's funny in the book, but serves him right.
He still does shows with the aul banjo, and he's got a little club in town. I can't remember the street off the top of me head, but he's got a website. Just put Ricky Tomo's club in your search bar. Or John will know where it is. Me sister says it's a great Sunday afternoon, like the aul time Variety days, few turns and a sing-song.
Just seen one of my neighbours there. Poor lad, walking up and down lost. I mentioned them, little gang of plonkies, no harm to anyone. He's had his sick money sanctioned, hasn't had a penny in 2 weeks, him and his Missus. Done what I can, but it wasn't much. Fucking Ian Duncan Smith, the kunt, sat in he's rent free Tudor Mansion now, on Father In Laws estate, eating fucking Quails Eggs and Pheasant off the Peasants backs. But then, that's the fault of these daft bastards down here. I told him that. He said... Don't blame me, I didn't vote.
I despair of us sometimes. No wonder IDS laughs his bollocks off at us.
