Barry Fry
Afternoon Bazza. How’s it going?
I’m fucking freezing. I’m watching my reserves at Ipswich. It’s windy as hell and we’re fucking losing one-nil. They’re fucking dirty, too.
Painful. That why you swear so much?
I put it down to a lack of vocabulary.
Does anyone swear more than you?
I’m in a photo finish with Graham Taylor, although he can’t swear now he’s a journalist. He’s a gentleman now!
What’s the angriest you’ve ever been?
I was 4-1 up with three minutes to go at Hillingdon Borough, and we lost 5-4. Two own goals. I was fucking livid. I couldn’t fucking believe it.
How did you express that anger? Gentle wrist-slapping?
I fucking exploded. The lads just had to sit and take it. I’m getting fucking angry thinking about it now... fuck... and this was 25 years ago... don’t start me off...
Sorry. Let’s return to a calm place. Who is history’s greatest Barry?
Hang on, mate. I’m getting a cup of tea and some biscuits.
Nice. How do you have your tea?
Strong, one sugar. The biscuits are custard creams. I’m 62, fat and happy.
Smashing. Now, back to the best ever Barry question...
Right. Got to be Barry White. Love his music, lovely stuff.
What’s the worst film you’ve seen?
[Screaming] GOOD GOAL! Oh fuck, no, he’s missed it. Thought we’d scored then. Sorry, what were you saying?
Films, Barry, films...
I can’t remember bad films. If it’s a sad one, I bawl my fucking eyes out. My wife says to me: “If your players could see you now, you big southern softie.”
What was the last weepie that got you blubbing?
I can’t remember. I’m having tea and biscuits here, aren’t I? I don’t want to talk about fucking crying!
A fair point. Ok then, when did you last ride a bicycle?
In Halfords, a while back. I was showing one of my kids how to ride a bike, and I ploughed into this big display. The kids ran out the shop, they were so fucking embarrassed.
Hardly surprising. What did you wear at your last fancy dress party?
I went in a wheelchair. I had a dressing gown on, a bandage round my head. Blood everywhere. My wife wheeled me about, but I’d leap up and start dancing.
That’s just sick, Barry.
Yeah, I know [cackling].
What’s the drunkest you’ve ever been?
I’ve only been really pissed twice. I was so sick the next day that I thought, “What’s the fucking sense in this?” You can’t remember what you’re doing. So I’m always merry, never hammered.
How’s your carbon footprint Barry? Are you into recycling?
My missus keeps fucking telling me you’ve got to be putting this thing in this fucking bag and that in the other one. But I just lob everything in the bin. Then I get a bollocking.
If you were murdered, which fictional TV detective would you like to investigate the case?
Colombo. He seems daft as a brush, but he always gets it right.
How do you deal with spiders in the house? Do you use the glass and paper method?
In fairness, I just stamp on them. My missus picks them up by the legs. I chase them round the house.
Finally, can you give us three words on the following Barrys? Firstly, McGuigan.
Great fighter, great character, oh... Hang on... GOAL!... No, fuck, he’s missed that too.
Barry McGuigan, Barry...
Sorry. Three words? Great boxing personality.
Barry Manilow?
Superb solo artist.
Barry Island?
That’s a horse, innit? Runs in the 2.30 at Newmarket?
It’s a tourist resort in South Wales.
A what?
It’s got a funfair.
OK: great kids entertainment.
Cheers Barry. Hope you equalise.
Me too, mate. Ta-ra.