Meeting Myhr

The very first time I saw Myhr was on a front copy of Chatterbox. He was standing back to back with Vincent and both had their arms folded in front of them (I mean where else would they have them ; it would be pretty awkward folding their arms behind them wouldn't it?)

Anyway as I was saying, I first saw Myhr in a photo, actually it wasn't a photo exactly it was a painting, probably done of a photo, or maybe out of Jamie Murray's vivid imagination. Now I have to say vivid, because anyone that knows Jamie can only describehis imagination as such in all areas of his life.

That first time I saw Myhr I hated him on sight. I thought he was tacky and a bad replica of Vincent, if that's what he was supposed to be. I hate anything that misses the mark, things have to be originals for me to like them and Myhr was not Vincent and in my estimation he didn't even come close. I no longer think that way.

So when I attended my first Beauty and the Beast convention in Manchester during May 1999 and heard that Jamie would be coming I didn't even bat an eyelid. Actually I have to admit it was a while before I knew that Jamie was inside Myhr, but that's another story as they say.

So my very first sighting of Myhr was at the con, when he was strutting around in his tight black jeans and silky white shirt - a proper puss in boots if ever I saw one.

He amused me. And I loved the way he walked. I could watch that prim little posterior move for hours and never grow tired of the view. And it was sometime during Jamie's Q&A that I had to know the answer to my burning question, 'When you are dressed as Myhr, do you intentionally walk differently, or is it just that your black jeans are so tight?'

I admit that Jamie's answer was lost in the applause and laughter that arose after that question, but I did manage to hear that Jamie was unaware that his black jeans were tight. But a roomful of affirmative nods soon had him convinced that this was so.

Sometime during that day, I found myself downstairs in the lobby standing next to Myhr and heard myself telling him, 'I would give anything to walk down the road with you dressed like that.' To which Myhr replied 'come on then' and off we went. Not just me but Sue Haley, her husband and several other people as well as my young son David who was then four.

My reason was not just for the fun of being with Myhr, but because I used to work in the Motor Claims Department of an Insurance Company for overseas business. And I was used to very funny claims coming in, either written in broken English or just funny because the cultures were different to us British people. I mean for example, there was a claim from a man in Greece, who had written; 'I was driving down the road when I came across an imaginary round-about and I hit a cow, that later disappeared.' Our guess was that the cow was probably imaginary too, and the driver had had one too many.

So bearing that in mind, I had this deliciously wicked thought as to what people might write down on their motor claim form when crashing after seeing Myhr walking down the street.

'I was driving through Manchester when this imaginary giant cat stepped out in front of me. Had it of been black I would have concluded that my luck had changed for the better, but it was ginger and so it is understandable that I should crash into the police car coming the opposite way.'

Yes I could just imagine those claim forms coming in, and that really tickled me.

And did they look! Those drivers almost did a double take. Cruel really when you think of it, 'cos Manchester is a pretty busy place. And drivers have enough to contend with, with just driving here there and everywhere, without continuing to drive forward while looking behind or in their rear view mirror at a group of people, a small child and a giant cat crossing the road, and walking towards the nearest lunch bar.

We chose The Little Chef to have our lunch, but Myhr couldn't eat anything, 'cos he said eating did something to his make up, or his make up did something to his eating. Can't remember which now, but I know just being there with him was an experience I will always remember with fondness.

You know those people that sit and try to spoon feed their offspring with tantalising titbits? They usually have the children sit with mouths sealed for the first time that day, absolutely refusing to eat 'the last chippy whippy' or 'this delicious spoonful of ice creamy weemy.' Well there was no problem that day. Children with eyes wide were staring at Myhr with mouths opening and closing obediently without complaint. (I actually think they weren't even aware that they were eating what they were eating or even who was feeding them).

And I don't think parents were particularly put off by he sign that said no dogs either ; after all Myhr was stopping their children from wasting food ; so why should they? Besides he wasn't a dog ; he was/is a cat.

Another thing, it's a known fact that these places take longer than usual to serve lunch when people eat anywhere near lunch-time. (That reminds me of the café I went to for dinner down in Cornwall that had a sign on the door saying 'closed for lunch'. A café closed for lunch ; huh I ask you!)

Well this Little Chef did not disappoint us. In fact the chef, a biggish woman who seemed to have sampled every meal on the menu repeatedly, and whom was therefore the big chief, I mean chef, actually dropped her eggs more than once while staring at Myhr, so the meal took longer than was probably usual. But we filled the gap with humorous conversation, usually revolving around Myhr.

He told us that in his home town of Texas, he thinks nothing of walking alone down streets as Myhr, and that the little children love him. I could well picture this. In actual fact I hadn't heard much out of David all day and he was being very well behaved.

On the way to the Little Chef some teenagers had remarked among themselves 'Is he real?' as Myhr had walked by. People seemed to cover their mouths behind their hands, no doubt laughing but not wanting to be seen doing so, but their eyes told another story. They were happy…truly happy…and so very pleased to have seen Myhr with their own eyes.

This sighting would also be good to verify those motor claims when they started rolling in.

Unless the insurance companies tried to get out of it by implying that every body in Manchester had received a similar kind of fix that day and were all seeing the same thing! Because some insurance companies are apt to do that ; believe me I know.

My daughter was with me when I went to Manchester along with some friends, who being anti B&B (how could they?) had gone off sightseeing intending to spend the day at Granada Studios. So that evening, trying to explain Myhr was nigh impossible.

With a hand held to my brow to see if I had a fever the girls asked me repeatedly, 'so tell us again about this giant cat…'

David's version of the event was constituted as make believe ; he was only four after all ; and therefore entitled to create a monstrous feline.

I had to do something, before they carted me off to the funny farm and so I took them downstairs to the bar.

Terrific no Myhr.

Why does that always happen? Try to prove something and it always backfires.

Besides these girls thought I was a little doo lally as it was to travel four hours on a train to mingle with a group of women who were dotty over some lion man anyway. It wasn't the sort of things mothers did.

But…hip-hip horray… Jamie was suddenly there. I heard his voice first. Great I thought, now I can prove it. 'That's him!' I cried. My daughter was the only one remaining at this time, her friends having given me over to her protection while they retired to a late night movie. Joanne turned as did I only to see this perfectly ordinary guy standing there even though he did have an American accent.

'Please' I begged as he drew level, 'tell my daughter about Myhr. She doesn't believe me.'

"Myhr? Pardon me? Do I know you?" Jamie replied innocently.

Grrr. I was flustered. I glared at him. "Jamie!"

"How do you know my name?" He replied. His eyes twinkled mercilessly.

I noticed, my daughter didn't. In fact she wasn't entirely sure what to notice, or to think. Was her mother nuts after all? What would her dad think to her mother chatting up strange men at a bar?

I laughed, somewhat nervously true, but only because I was beginning to wonder if I might have imagined everything after all.

Suddenly I had an idea!

"You know me. I was the one who asked the question about tight black jeans." I detected a grin, but it wasn't noticeable to anyone else.

"You aren't the only one to ask that question" he confessed. That threw me, until I thought ah huh wait a minute, so others had seen him wear tight black jeans too?

I tried another tactic. Turning to my daughter I introduced her, "This is my daughter Joanne, she hopes to be a journalist, have you time for her to ask you a few questions?' Wow transformation!

Suddenly confronted with sitting beside a pretty sixteen-year-old as opposed to a frumpish forty something, was too appealing an invitation to be wasted, and Jamie was right on in there. "What would you like to know?" he asked her. But it was me that answered, (besides Joanne, thrown in at the deep end again ; just as I had thrown her in with Roy Dotrice a year before ; was suddenly lost for words ; and glaring at me I might add with some malice ; now why I don't know ; I was only trying to help her future career after all).

"Please," I asked, "Just tell her about Myhr."

"I can do better than that" he told us, "I'll be right back." And he was gone.

While he was gone I cannot remember making conversation with Joanne at all ; everything seemed a trifle unreal ; as if we were dreaming.

Then he was back, "Here" he handed her an autographed photograph. Joanne stared at it, looking intermittently back at Jamie as she did so. "Is this you?" She asked at length with disbelief warring in her tone.

He nodded, then replied, "Well no actually…its Myhr."

"The giant cat?" Joanne asked looking first at me, then Jamie then the photo.

"Ah huh." Jamie replied.

Joanne fell silent. For just a few minutes. And then the questions began.

Jamie told her almost everything that he had told the group of lion man lovers that afternoon ; Joanne was amazed ; she was also incredibly impressed by his artistry talent and the radio show job that he has. And she thoroughly enjoyed her meeting with Jamie, the man behind the cat.

And her friends no longer thought I was a candidate for lunacy.

That was the first time I met Myhr. The second time I decided to have a little fun. If only to pay him back for those few moments when he made me feel like I was completely off my rocker in front of my daughter.

David and Joanne were with me again, as well as my eldest son John, and Ella a friend of Joanne's, when we went to Nottingham, to the Masquerades 2000 convention.

Jamie was there, dressed as Myhr occasionally, and David too - it seemed - felt it was his place to have some fun with this oversized cat.

He seemed not to remember having met him before ; how he could forget ; I'll never be able to understand.

So at the auction every time Myhr walked by, David took it upon himself to stick out his foot. He was in his element and a fit of giggles when he successfully tripped Myhr up while he was strutting back and forth holding up a painting. Myhr got 'that look' in his eye, and from that moment on - it was war

After the auction where ever there was David there was Myhr. Myhr hounded him, and David ran ; squealing ; and giggling ; away from him. Darting in and out of groups of people, under tables, around chairs, a backward glance to see if Myhr was still hot on his trail. It was great fun. And when all seemed safe and David could relax, Myhr pounced and the fun began all over again. But it wasn't until the Sunday night that the game intensified.

David found himself with me standing behind Myhr in the queue for the buffet. Innocently I pinched Jamie's bottom, and David got the blame for it. Myhr turned, "I have you know young man that only ladies pinch my bottom." David looked at him gone out. Why was he telling him this? I smothered a laugh.

We made our way to our respective tables and after the meal the dancing began. John mingled, but Joanne and Ella danced. I was a wall-flower, deriving immense pleasure from watching David ran and throw himself to skid on his knees right across the dance floor. He did this many times, before suddenly from out of the crowds pounced Myhr!

He flung David up into his arms, and held him upside down for quite sometime. David struggled to pull his tea shirt down or rather up so that no one could see his tummy while desperately trying to wiggle free.

Joanne ran for her camera, but missed the whole event, so we begged Myhr to grab David again, but that was no mean feat. Once grabbed twice shy, and David was under the table and wasn't coming out!

Myhr was under the table too, table cloth over his head trying to entice David out.

"Come on out" he coaxed.

"No no no" giggled David.

Myhr must have made a grab for him, because David suddenly reappeared on the other side of the table, shouting 'oh no you don't' and ran as fast as he could to another side of the room, giggling as he went. By now the spectacle had drawn heads and everyone was smiling and laughing.

Bit by bit David returned to his place, and Myhr pretended he wasn't interested. It almost became an anti climax for David as Myhr seemed to forget all about him. Then suddenly as David started his skids again, out from the crowd leaped Myhr, grabbing David before he landed to skid, and holding him upside down for the waiting camera.

David squealed and wiggled and giggled until Myhr finally put him down.

It was a great end to a great weekend, but it didn't finish there. Later when Myhr became Jamie again, we spent some time talking to Jamie outside of the dance area where we could hear one another and Ella and John were able to talk to him as Joanne had done the year before. All the children were very impressed and said what a wonderful person they thought Jamie was.

David will never forget it this time ; he still talks about it ; but the same thing happened to him as happened to me with Joanne ; his friends at school do not believe him ; despite the photo. And I can only hope that one day Myhr becomes really famous so that children everywhere will come to know him as a household name ; failing that - when can he visit David's school?