With him, I was the one who found out that he didn’t do it and took him to the Bilston Police station, and he’d handed them over to the female desk sergeant, but he’d never had them back, so he said. I’ve no idea if he did or not. `
They’d go after him for the money they lent him, but he couldn’t pay them back because he never had it; he’d go to friends for the money. “They said no to him, ‘they suffer if they didn’t lend him the money,
He’d argue with them by banging his fist on his desk and telling them that he’d have them boated up by people that he said he knew, but nothing happened to those people,
He’d lied to get the money from them; some gave in to him, and others didn’t. They stayed far away, left him to get on with it, and turned their back on him.
Another person he‘ll talk about is his Grammar Fisher, who was part of the Suffragette movement and was sent to jail for two years for breaking a window in a government office, and his Gram Par Fisher.
As he used to call him, he was done for having sex in a public place and was conscious for two years who died in a Jail fight with another inmate, but this wasn’t what ‘he told me. He said that ‘the Granddad was killed in World War One when he hadn’t
If people didn’t speak to him for months on end, he couldn’t take it and cried like a child, always quoted the words of the later Winston Churchill but used his own words, then “I shall fight you till the end of my life. I’ll never surrender to any of you” anther of his saying was you can’t see the wood for the trees, he’d used this word in letters that he sent to those people he didn’t like,
My quote to him was, “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing them and blaming it on you,
“you’ll be a man, my son” (RUDYARD KIPLING); when it came to women, he couldn’t see or handle it and thought of himself as Frank Sinatra.
He wanted to live the life he’d lived but without the money, his version of the Rat pack. ‘This was the kind of music he liked, and the composers were Beethoven’Symphony Number Fiveve in C Minor’ Bach’s Double Violin Concerto and Strauss; this was why we became friends.
His collection went back as far as the 1920s, some even earlier than that; his favourite comedies heroes were Tory Hancock, Blockader, Steptoe & Son, the original Dad’s Army’ Charles Chaplin’ and all the silent films and those with Buster Keaton.
All the Carry-on films, on the Busies and Marry, others Like Fawlty Towers, all the municipal movies and the life of Brian and the others like Resting Damp’ Love thy Neighbour.’
Mind your Language and anything with the last Ronnie Barker’ in like the Two Roomies’ the original Porridge and Open All Hours, Only Fools and Horses,
The Comedians, the only sport he liked to watch besides darts, snooker, was professional wrestling. That was on ITV on a Saturday afternoon,
There were times he was a phone pet. You couldn’t ‘him off the dam thing; he couldn’t talk for England, spoke about his father all the time, or talked about Christmas and why.
so-called friends of mine didn’t give me a card or parents, and this made him mad that he’d speak to them in public and showed them that they’d walked out of the pubs
We first met in September 1995 at the Skill Centre at College, which is now closed. Our friendship lasted for just eighteen years, but on October 8 Two thousand and thirteen,
I had to report his behaviour to the police because he told market traders what was happening and what people were doing to me in private.
He’d broke confidentiality by telling everyone about the agreements, which wasn’t anything to do with any of them, but if others did it’ he’d tell them off about it.
ON A Monday in June 2013,
He’d turned up at my flat with a four ‘embrace lope’ with writhing on the back, names of people he’d heard talk about me, but when I told him that I needed proof of this, he couldn’t prove it.
So, I did nothing about it, but he wouldn’t have it. He did my heart in; that day, I felt like knotting him through a window, some of those who knew him well gave him the nicknames Ernest Jekyll and Sidney Hyde, across between good and evil; in his care, some mothers did have them.
A good reader at the time, I’d asked him to read things for me; this was keeping him away from those master crimples that defy the law and break every one of them, that were they were bafflement of the Bilston Police,
Who had nicknamed them the Napoleon of Crime, the untouchables; when a Bilston shop ‘was broken into, they were nowhere “to:’ be” seen. He was set up and was left to take the can and wouldn’t tell them when asked where they could find those who did it, and he didn’t talk because he knew that “it did that he wouldn’t be alive to tell the story to anyone,
Though he could get away with it, I always told him that the same thing employed to him, but he felt that it didn’t; there were times he badgers people into doing things that weren’t right in my book, and he demanded that they do it.
He’d make up stories about what wasn’t right, that shouldn’t be on T.V., owes everyone money and couldn’t accept that he was in the wrong; it was always everyone else who was
He told me that some of those people were tight-fished-selfish-unfeeling people who couldn’t say to people’s faces what they thought of them. It’s just an agreement that gets out of hand; it was his misconduct, verbally abusive to me and Mrs Hill at the time.
That upset me. I got it wrong; I always jumped in before I’d finished what “was saying, too.’
“He took the law into his own hands. I will not put up with this behaviour to my wife from anyone; he picked on those who couldn’t read or write well.
I did understand that he felt terrible about it; he always wanted to do things his way; he would sell other people’s details for the money to anyone who would pay him for them. They’d sent emails to them or made calls to those people who knew that they thought it was me that was doing it when it wasn’t
I’d liked to have remained friends with him’ He shouldn’t know better than he did; our friendship was a bit like Morse and Lewis, but in reversed order; he always told me that other people didn’t appreciate me and that they couldn’t take the truth when it ‘was said to their faces.
I thought he was a good friend who liked what he was doing with me, but I found out that “he lied to me about those things that he told me that those people said something about me when I wasn’t there.
He was always on the phone telling me that I should do something about those people who were saying sad things about me because they couldn’t tell me to my face what they said, but when I went and asked them, they said that it wasn’t them who was saying it.
It was him telling them that I wouldn’t fight back and take them to court for slander on his say-so, as I only had his word that this was going on when I wasn’t about; sometimes he’d play silly games when I tried to speak to him on the phone about it, he wouldn’t pick it up.
He’d go off one of his shucks and always wrote letters about anything. He couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie when told to; through that, people hurt me and would go after them with those crimes' friends of his.
Stumpages that I wouldn’t give the time of day to, the kind of people who would supply drags to people and couldn’t care about what happened to those people, who took them, or how old they were.
Those were the kind of people he liked, and he said they were better than me. Who’d called his other friends and blackmailed them for money: He told them that if they didn’t come up with the money.
They’d do something to them, and they ended up in a hospital, but he was the one who spent more time in a place like that; he was never out of business; it was a home from home for him.
Even when he was in there, he’d use their phone to call me when I told him not to run the N.H.S. bill up, but; “he didn’t care about that just did it can describe him in three words, one ‘he was a bit of a Waiter Minty, he was a child at times crying for deadly.
Two, a troublemaker who went looking for it; three, he loved T.V. characters, more of them real people.
His favourite of the week was Thursday. This was because it was payday
‘This caused an argument between close friends that turned out to be lousy behaviour towards those people that he started causing trouble
I told them those people were talking behind my back, but he couldn't develop a constant complainer when I asked him to prove this.
When all the time it was him that was doing it towards me; he’d shout at us in the street and on a bus, that everyone heard him, that they’d call the police, he tried to talk his way out of it; he’d buy them gifts, thought that he could purchase friend as if they came out of a shop or something.
At times, he was a tough person to get on with, a compulsive worrier who worried about other people and treated a friend of his. I once told him that if he carried on worrying as he did that, he’d end up in an early grave that came true.
He’d been at death’s door many times before, but this time, death didn’t miss him; she came to like the rain in the night and took him in hand. Noting can be about this: I won in the end but didn’t want to win this way.
He was dead as a regard coffin nail, and that was that. The Chapel was full of people who knew him, it one of the poleis Funeral that I’d only been to in my lifetime, the only good thing about it was the music.
I think that there’s more to his death than meets the eye and that they were all part of the cover-up, and they knew more than what they were saying; it wasn’t the case.
“They couldn’t tell me it was the case that they didn’t like what ‘to’.
‘this what I think happened the night they found him on the floor of his flat, a person or an unknown gave him pills’ that caused his heart attack, as he didn’t have any.
G.P.’s notes on him when they took him in
the person on the phone told me that there are lots of ways you can cause a heart attack: one is his heart couldn’t have stopped beating, and another is he took something, or someone gave him a pill, and that’s what I think killed him, but no-one would accrete to it or face up to it.
When he was taking him in because he’d full out with his G.P. over not giving him his Madison because they wouldn’t give him any pills, he found someone who did; that person could be the one who helped him do himself, Just as Billie Holliday did. What
I’m happy that “he is not around to hurt me or anyone else for that matter as one of those who know him as well as I know that none of us should say this.
I like I did. There are things that he’s done to me and others that they don’t know about, as they won’t be there when this happens. He used to do my head in, make threading phone calls, and get one of those other friends to ask me for money. That was it for me. I’d had enough, so I awoke away and didn’t want to know.
I won in the end, but I didn’t win this way; unfortunately, this person died at age four on July 4, 2014, at NEW Cross Hospital. Wolverhampton,
. The cause of his death was a Myocardial Infarction and Dilated Cardiomyopathy;
sadly missed by some friends, the Funeral Service was held in the East Chapel at Bush bury Crematorium
On Wednesday, July 30, it was a warm day. That day, the only good thing was the music.
He had to be different to everyone else and two services; they would put him away on quit, but I stepped in and stopped that game.’
They wouldn’t ever tell anyone which funeral directors they were using; we had to wait until the day and make our way there or let anyone go and say our farewell to him.
He’s buried in St Mary Church Gardened in Oxford Street Bilston. ‘This was in the Express and Star on August 8, 2014: this was the church he started going to on a Sunday to ask God for givens for all those sad things he did before he met him.
Sid, the Kid
A five-foot-eight-inch brown-haired man wore glasses and was nicknamed the junkman. He thought of robbing a bank but couldn’t drive a car. You wouldn’t want him in your house. He just sat there looking through his window and watched T.V. all day long, couldn’t put a plug on flex or paint a door,
In the film, he thought of himself as Dirty Harry: women wouldn’t marry him, he always blew his trumpet, sat covered in crumbs, and told people he’s behe was better than I wouldn’t give him a king’s crown. He doesn’t know if black is white or white is black or crack an egg.
When paying for a round of drinks, he tried to talk his way out of it. Drove people up the wall, always in their faces and on their case:
The first time we met, he said he was a hard and dangerous man who told
people to their faces, don’t mess with me. Being around him was a hazard for some.
When the church clock struck Two ‘0 ‘watches, he went to see the dock. Some Women hated him that they left him crying in his beer, and some people would cross the road to avoid him.
Dogs and cats would leave him, pack their bags, and move in with Joe and his crow; the people laughed at him when he fell off the wooden horse. He about finds his way around town, a cold man who can’t drink from a can just as other men do, no women’s man, couldn’t kiss Rita the water meter.
BURNT TO ASHES
Stop the music, turn off the T.V.s and close all windows, doors, curtains and blinds. Stop all traffic and let the automobile through carrying Sid; let the mourners wear black; no service ‘was’ read,
Or tears shed, eyes weren’t red. They placed the coffin on the altar, wanted a drink of water,
The Vicar spoke, “We’re all here to say goodbye to Sid” Prevent cats from meowing. Stop rows, milking cows, and church bells sounding, lifted his coffin on a conveyor belt.
It rolled along, the doors opened, into the furnace, the curtains drew around it, and it bunted to ashes’ There were no kings crowned as they raised their glasses,
A woman sat at the back of the church and wore a black skirt, a white-black ribboned blouse and a hat with a veil, she hid her tears as she buried his ashes’,
She fluttered her eyelashes. That was cruel of those who didn’t put in’ we have to forgive and forget, is ‘’in heaven or hell, and is there life after death? If so, then what is he doing now?
A Memorial Service ‘was held at St Mary's, Oxford Street, Bilston, at 10 am on Sunday, August 10, followed by Burial in the Memorial Garden; at 11.15, you were only forty-four when you shuffled off this mortal coil.
I didn’t think much of your style doing what he did when he was here doing their hoards as he did mine many times.
I close. My eyes and I can still feel you near me. As God punished him for all his wrongdoing, memories of years ago fill up my mind with tears flowing down my face, heart beaten
The unborrowable Sid, we all missed your ha Kid and our telephone concerns. I was glad to have shamed your life over the years; we’ve had fights, but ‘he’ you away put them right now. We’ve turned out the light, and your no was a sight to see.
It was on July 25, 2014, in the Express and Star. Viewed by 111 Visitors
FISHER Sidney Ernest Passed away on July 4, 2014. Cremation on Wednesday, July 30, at Bush bury Crematorium at 9.15.
Sadly missed, it will never be forgotten. It was loved by all members of Hand in Hand Leaders, Bernadette And Ken, Friends Garry, Mr Whitehouse, College Friend John, his queen Carol, Michael & Glenis Hill.
Adios, my friend, you are missed by all those who knew you well. If God can forgive you, then so can I re; God peace, God bless your kid and how you live in that beautiful place in the Sky,
So, kiss Princes DI and shake hands with Spike Milligan and play snooker with Alex Higgins and Sing with Frank’ all those others too and my brother John and Friend Des is with you; I still miss them; look after them for me Sid.
