Presenting a Personal Image

It is important in life for the sake of your career, never mind the social effects, to present a positive image of your true self.

Trying to portray a false impression or pursue meaningless value statements and the perceptive amongst us will soon reveal the personality behind the mask.

Here is an anecdote of my past to illustrate the point.

?In the 60's we had a neighbour who bought a brand-new Ford Consul Mark 1. He parked it directly opposite my car, a self-maintained 1947 Morris 8 nicknamed 'Bessie.'??

His nickname was 'Jiver,' he was the guy you saw regularly on tv playing the Xylophone in the variety shows. Everyone and everything on the Broxtowe Estate had a nickname. Many times, tv celebrities would visit him in his council house for afternoon tea. The rest of us took no heed even when it was the tv stars of the era Morecombe and Wise.

Perhaps that is half the reason they came, as they were left alone in peace, nothing impressed us on the Broxtowe Estate. ‘Jiver’ was the only one on the street with a telephone because of his need to be in contact with his showbiz agent. The rest of us didn't bother. Who would we ring, no one else we knew had a phone??

When winter came, off we would trot early to work. I would turn the ignition key of 'Bessie', pull the choke fully out and half a turn of the starting handle and Brmmm, Bessie was ready to go. Meanwhile opposite, Jiver would be sat in his Abercrombie and Fitch overcoat, frosty breath filling his car as he, on the turn of the starter motor, would hear the overture, Urhh, Urhh, Urhh, Pop and then a wheezy Brmm; pause and then a roar of a Brmm.?

Others tried in vain to change their image. My neighbour opposite Mr. Rayner, he with the Luger war souvenir on which we would practice loading and unloading the bullets, decided to have a drop-down coupé. Unfortunately, the hood didn't fit properly, and it leaked in the rain. Stray cats were attracted to the warmth of the black leather top and regularly peed on the roof creating an awful smell.?

The nearest to changing his image and nearly succeeding was Morris. A very smart dressed young man who initially we thought might be a 'wally wufter' until he was spotted, smoking in the back garden, spying one evening into the bedroom of the Mr. Rayner's very pretty daughter next door as she undressed with the bedroom light on, and the curtains drawn. What a relief in those homophobic days he was not AC.

He bought a brand-new Wolsey Hornet, in my view a very smart car. I later learnt that the object of his attention became a prison governor for an Arkansas jail. Broxtowe girls weren't for messing with either, even the pretty ones.

No one wore sunglasses, polaroids or imitations, that would be too great a humiliation and a target for the ultimate weapon of our community, humoristic sarcasm, no wanton knifings in those days, we did have some class.?

The Broxtowe Culture is embedded in our DNA, we can spot the fake artists a mile off. We readily resort to humiliation with no hint of compassion and trowel dollops and layers and layers of sarcasm to anyone who thinks themselves above their deserved station in life.

So beware, you can’t kid people all of the time!