Hey Mister?
I heard a joke recently that took me back to childhood.
I was brought up on Copeland Road in Govan. On Saturdays, when Glasgow Rangers were at home, my pals and I would make a few shillings offering to watch visitors’ cars parked along the street.
A simple “Hey Mister, can I watch your car?” usually did the trick. Most folk handed over a shilling—or a half-crown on a good day—perhaps feeling slightly threatened by the idea of a ten-year-old damaging their car if they refused. But that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted a bit of extra pocket money, especially when the Friday-night allowance from my parents had already been squandered at the pictures.
That was my childhood motivation to earn.
I saw similar scenes years later in the Philippines. In Manila, young, shoeless kids would act as jeepney barkers and waving down passing taxis for guests as left the hotel. They’d receive a tip from both the driver and the customer. On the motorways, when the traffic ground to a halt—and it often did—kids would appear selling snacks or offering to clean your windscreen. I saw the same in Rome, too.
But I digress.
Back to the joke that kicked this all off.
A match was about to start at Ibrox. A wee street kid said,
“Hey Mister, can I look after your car?”
The man replied, “D’you see that Rottweiler in the back seat? Go near that car and he’ll bite your head off.”
As the man walked away, the kid shouted,
“Hey Mister—can your dug put oot fires?”
(Translated : Hey Mister, can your dog extinguish fires.)
Image created with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot