Turned out nice again, haven’t they?

ON THE first Thursday of every month, 11 men and one woman gather in Paphos to strum away on the ukulele and burst into songs penned by a diminutive man of unimpeachable elegance, who would have been 100 next year.
If you haven’t grown up in Britain, and aren’t of a certain generation, the chances are you’ll never have heard of George Formby, music hall and film star, the most popular man with British audiences in the late 1930s.
Photographs show a man with distinct Royal connections, a man who could have been a dead ringer for Princess Anne. But George Formby was actually born in 1904 of working class parents in Wigan, Lancashire.
Vertically challenged, he first trained as a jockey, married Beryl (a vigorous local lass who trained to become a champion clog dancer), played the banjo/ukulele, became a major grossing British movie star who, at his peak in the late thirties was earning the huge sum of £100,000 a year.
George Formby, unlikely superstar, was a man imbued with a truly gormless charm. His cheeky songs not only raised the art of the double entendre to new heights, but helped bring much needed cheer to a nation throughout the depression and the war years, with such classics as ‘With my little Ukulele in my hand’, ‘Little Stick of Blackpool Rock’, ‘Leaning on the Lamppost’ and his most popular hit ’When I’m cleaning windows’.
He was a truly British phenomenon; with an act that would have been totally incomprehensible in any other, a simple ukulele playing chap, without guile, seemingly content in his own world, and who, 42 years after his death, is still revered as the Ukulele Daddy of all time.
Which is where the Paphos Twelve come in: they are just one of the raft of dedicated fan clubs and innumerable websites. Every year in the seaside resort of Blackpool, there is a packed convention held in his honour, where fans travel from all over the world and meet to revel in the re-showings of his movies, play their ukuleles, and, after two days of Formby worship, go home happily laden down with all the latest George Formby memorabilia.
So is that sad, or what? Well, no, actually. Granted, George Formby songs have never exactly floated my boat, but then again I had never until recently had the pleasure of hearing the members of the Paphos-based George Formby Appreciation Society belting out their renditions at the local UKCA club.
The team that makes up the GFAS are anything but sad (they may be a touch on the eccentric side but that’s no bad thing in my book). Actually, they’re rather jolly. There’s a retired policeman, ex-teacher, tax accountant, welfare officer, publican, engineer, jazz band performer, retailer, and a retired garage owner.
This rather eclectic group performs on the first Thursday of every month at the clubhouse, but, a word of warning, unless you are willing to endure sitting through a rather lacklustre cast of supporting acts, it’s wiser to slip out, and keep the barman happy until the GFAS hit the stage.
When they do come on, I defy anyone not to break out into a big smile, start their toes tapping, and experience one of those few and far between ‘happy moments’ as the group gets into its well polished grove belting out the best tunes from the Formby musical archive.
Whether you’d heard of George Formby or not, it’s the best fun you’ll have for a long time: a jolly happy group who ought to be destined for bigger things.