Michael Fish: reassurance and the storm of 1987

THE gentleman called Fish, not sure if he’d cook a good dish. Weather is his game, trustworthy was his name.

The year was eighty-seven, weather not from heaven. A forecast of interest, reassurance not to stress.

She’d heard the hurricane was in a hurry, but Fishy said “don’t worry!

Technically he was right, a hurricane did not bite, but instead, whilst many slept in bed, a storm almighty bled.

As morning curtains opened, ohh good grief, no relief, a storm had torn, like a thorn, shredding without mercy.

Wind and rain expected, but nothing like this storm, lots of broken pieces, led to many teases.

Teasing target Fish, innocent throughout, must have wished, he was in a dish, hidden from the teasers.

We look back the laugh, many think he’s daft, now a national treasure, living a life of leisure.


The Milk Tray Man, mouthfuls of Angel Delight, smashing Smash Hits magazine, splashing it all over with Brut aftershave, World of Sport or Grandstand? A fat wallet or your flexible friend the Access Card? Could you survive a term at Grange Hill? Nostalgia with enough clout to send you flying back to the 80s and 70s in the hardback book Section N Underpass. Click image below to get the rundown:


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