At a fancy-dress party in the early 1980s, one guest stood out among the various heroes and villains of the night: A man in a giant papier-mache head.
The face was shaped like a rugby ball. The eyes were wide and unblinking, resembling a pair of Pacman heads. The hair was painted-on – with a single streak removed to resemble a side parting. The mouth was carved out as a pair of protruding, pillowy lips.
That party crowd – who were both tickled and terrified by what they saw – would be Frank Sidebottom’s first ever audience.
Within months, people were actually paying to see him.
By the nineties, Sidebottom – a whiney, constantly-distracted overgrown child in a badly-fitted suit – had turned into a multi-talented superstar of Timperley: A lead singer, comedian, chat show host, guest speaker and football club founder all rolled into one.
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He left his mark in music, media and print; spending a lot of time performing off-key, localised covers of classic songs (Born In Timperley, Panic On The Streets Of Timperley, Anarchy In Timperley etc.) whilst his other adventures were detailed in cartoons (drawn himself).
When he wasn’t performing on stage or cheering on his football team Timperley Bigshorts (which he created) from the sidelines, Sidebottom could be found frolicking all over Manchester, be it splashing through water fountains on live TV, pestering passers-by, or parading through gardens with the head of Aphex Twin on a stick.
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He appeared at Reading Festival, Wembley, The Cavern Club and pretty much any place in Manchester that had a stage. Sometimes he’d just head out to the pubs and chat nonsense to a half-drunk crowd.
He lived an enigmatic life quite unlike any other character in history – with authors, journalists, filmmakers and fans still poring through his back catalogue to this day.
The man underneath the head was Chris Sievey – a young illustrator, doodler and musician. He’d mocked up the costume on a whim for an evening out, but decided to don the large head more regularly after seeing Sidebottom strike a chord.
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The papier-mache was constantly being refined before eventually being upgraded to fibreglass, and Sievey would always wear a nosepeg tied to a cord around his ears to ensure Sidebottom spoke with a nasal, northern twang.
One person to play with Sidebottom during his heyday was journalist Mark Kermode.
“Everyone who was in Manchester at that period gigged with Frank Sidebottom,” commented the critic.
“Because Frank Sidebottom performed all the time, anywhere and everywhere.”
Starting out as mega-fan for The Freshies (Sievey’s band), Sidebottom slowly turned into a big draw on the gig circuit, which led to him branching out as his own musician, before eventually turning into an interviewer and on-the-ground journalist.
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He became the Manc equivalent of The Naked Cowboy in Times Square; a familiar sight for locals, but someone who perplexed out-of-towners.
Given his Marmite brand of humour, it was always fascinating to see what type of reaction Sidebottom would get from his interview subjects. Celebrity guests on his chat series Frank’s Proper Tele Show would either keel over laughing at the absurdity of it all, or sit squirming in their seats in visible discomfort.
Not that it really mattered who was on the show, anyway. They’d barely get a word in edgeways.
Sidebottom would pepper his guests with inane questions and seemingly lose interest in the answer before the final word fell off his tongue; promptly flopping back into his chair, flailing his limbs in the air, or letting his oval head droop to the ground.
Sometimes, he’d make an inquiry then respond to it himself. On other occasions he’d throw tantrums.
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Sidebottom’s later shows were screened on the now-defunct Channel M for smaller local audiences, and there’d be ridiculous prizes for those who tuned in. He would proudly present items like “out of date food”; “a press pass to get into an event that’s already finished” and “pickled Power Rangers” (toy figures inside pickle jars); promising to mail each gift out to the winner.
As if Sidebottom himself wasn’t peculiar enough, he’d often bring out a cardboard mirror image puppet – Little Frank – who he’d routinely berate.
Anyone meeting Sidebottom would find getting a sensible conversation out of him absolutely impossible. One BBC interviewer, adamant to uncover the truth, once asked him: “What is it you’re trying to do?”
“I’m trying to make some money without me mum finding out,” replied Sidebottom.
But it was supposed to be that way. As his old bandmate Rick Sarko put it: “Frank didn’t want to be exposed as being a normal human being. Which he wasn’t.”
Very few people had Sidebottom figured out. Even now, ten years after his death, speculation surrounding the character remains rife.
Some think he was just a bizarre comic creation built solely as an excuse for Sievey to act daft and score cheap laughs in snooker clubs. But those closest to the man with the big red smile believed it was more complicated than that.
The fact that Sidebottom’s true identity was a mystery for many years was no accident. Sievey had gone to great lengths to keep it that way.
One of the few people who knew the real man during his lifetime was the journalist Jon Ronson, who played alongside Sidebottom in his Oh Blimey Big Band (the criteria for getting into the group was Ronson’s ability to play notes C, F and G successfully).
When Ronson walked backstage for the first time and said hello to “Chris”, a strange silence filled the air. He cautiously corrected the greeting to “Frank”, and only then, did he get a cheery, nasally reply.
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When it came to Sidebottom, Sievey never, ever phoned it in. When that giant head went on, he completely slipped away and let his chaotic character take the reins.
Mick Middles, Sidebottom’s biographer, suggested Sievey was consumed by his creation, calling the transformation into Sidebottom as “unsettling and remarkable”.
It reached a point where Sievey flipping between egos wasn’t entirely voluntary. It just happened.
Ronson remembers that Sievey would sometimes stay in character as Sidebottom for hours after he was done performing – despite there being no audience to play up to.
Andy Hay / Flickr
Sievey and Sidebottom seemed to live very different lives. But occasionally, the lines between them would blur.
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When Sievey was summoned to court for late payments to HMRC, for example, the experience was supposed to scare him straight, but instead it served as inspiration for Sidebottom to write a song about the merits of the taxman.
The footage of him singing “tax is absolutely fantastic” whilst merrily filling in financial forms on a kitchen table in front of an absolutely baffled onlooker is gold.
A restless creative and fun-loving cartoonist, Sievey had little time for the dull seriousness of adulthood, and Sidebottom offered him the perfect outlet for escape.
Still, the pair didn’t always coexist harmoniously.
In Steve Sullivan’s wonderful documentary, “Being Frank”, it’s revealed that Sievey set the costume aside for a period, partly resenting the fact that Sidebottom had become famous when “Chris” had not.
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Sievey spent time away from Sidebottom by working as a designer on animated shows like Pingu and Bob The Builder, but he couldn’t stay mad at his alter ego for long.
After a lengthy absence, he blew the dust off the head and the two reconciled, although the comeback would tragically be cut short.
Sievey was diagnosed with cancer in 2010, and he was found unresponsive on the floor of his flat just weeks later.
He passed away on 21 June 2010 at the age of 54.
Frank Sidebottom & Chris Sievey’s Big Page / Facebook
Despite Sidebottom’s local fame, Sievey died almost penniless, and was left facing a pauper’s funeral until Ronson tweeted the news to followers.
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Within hours, Sievey’s family had a pot overspilling with thousands to give him the kind of send-off he deserved.
Sidebottom has been gone for a decade, but you can still see him today – encased in bronze in his hometown of Timperley; a single thumb raised to greet passers-by.
The Sidebottom statue sculptor, who hailed from Eastern Europe, admitted she’d never seen anyone quite like him when she was recruited to do the work.
Even in death, Sidebottom was still surprising people.
A scheduled memorial was due to take place in Timperley this weekend; ten years to the day since Sidebottom bid farewell. But, like so many other major gatherings in 2020, the meet-up has been scuppered.
You can’t help but wonder what Sidebottom would have made of everything happening today. He’d certainly have had no problem with being locked down in his hometown.
Between his statue’s feet lies a plaque containing a message scrawled in the lower-case cartoonish handwriting style that both Sievey and Sidebottom favoured.
“As long as I gaze on Timperley sunset, I am in paradise,” it reads.
You know he was, he really was.
Feature
The 81-year-old Red being forced to give up his seat after nearly half a cenutry
Danny Jones
We recently had a touching, albeit heartbreaking chat with one Michael Carney: the 81-year-old Manchester United fan who is being forced to give up his current seat after nearly half a century.
The lifelong Man United supporter has been going to Old Trafford since he was seven years old, meaning he’s spent nearly that same number in decades going to the iconic footballing arena, longer than most who currently attend the ground have been on thre planet.
Put simply, Michael has regularly attended matches for pretty much as long as he can remember and held a season ticket for the bulk of his adult life. His current seat in the old south end, now known as the Sir Bobby Charlton Stand, has been in his name for over 45 years – but not for much longer.
The die-hard Red was recently told that his particular part of the stand would be sacrificed to make way for new hospitality seats, a decision that supporters aren’t taking lightly. Some of you may have witnessed the protests in his section with your own eyes; even if not, millions have since seen this image:
This is Mike Carney. I know him well. He’s never felt entitled to anything. But he was at Benfica in 66 & Madrid in 68. Now #MUFC Directors think it’s a good idea to take his seat off him for ‘corporate’ fans next year. Support the protests Reds. It matters! @The__1958@TraMufchttps://t.co/fK5r2kl7bF
Holding up the modest but emphatic sign, the message was clear: the current administration is favouring tourists and casual visitors over the so-called ‘legacy’ fans who have devoted their time and money to the club for generations.
The reverse of Michael’s sign read: “I was sat here before you were born”. Having moved from the old Cantilever Stand, a.k.a. ‘United Road’ (now where the Sir Alex Ferguson Stand is situated) to this particular seat back in 1979, that’s true for the majority of the INEOS Group now at the helm of the club.
Met with cheers from those sitting around him, especially those facing the same eviction, as well as countless others around the stadium when he held the sign aloft during the most recent Manchester Derby, his vocal but peaceful protest saw just as much coverage as any organised fan march.
Looking up to co-owner Jim Ratcliffe (who still wouldn’t fit into the same ticket age category as Carney, even at 72) and other members of the administration in the moment, Michael told us that those sitting in the executive seats refused to even acknowledge him and his peers.
Revealing that failed to offer so much as a glance down, merely making their “glum faces” very plain to see, he said his immediate feeling was one which many have echoed since they arrived: “They’re just puppets for the Glazers.”
Long before the days of wealthy billionaires and entire nation states splurging their cash on football clubs, Michael still remembers the simpler times in football; a time when players like Charlton, Law, Best and, most poignantly for him, often overlooked legends like Duncan Edwards were the story.
He still has a newspaper clipping from the Munich Disaster.Been there, got the shirt…Back in those days, “you could smell the liniment and the red was so vivid” that you couldn’t help but pick United. (Credit: Supplied)
As most fans do, he still remembers his first game: it was a Saturday on 29 September 1951, when Matt Busby’s side took on Preston North End at Old Trafford and went on to lose 2-1.
Although he “cut [his] teeth” watching local non-league clubs around Cheshire back then, enjoying the likes of derbies between Northwich Victoria and Witton Albion, the joy of going to watch United for nine old pence as a junior with his uncle is a feeling that has stuck with him.
That being said, it’s fair to say he has little trouble recollecting even more recent history and big turning points, such as that first buyout back in 2005, pretty well.
Few could have predicted just quite how turbulent things would gradually become in the time since, but some certainly feared as much, and Carney isn’t the only one who now considers those same people as “visionaries” doing their best to warn their fellow supporters of a growing spectre.
Not only were they applauded by purists for splintering off and starting their own grassroots phoenix club, FC United of Manchester, but they also helped ward off the possibility of the leveraged buyout model as a threat to other teams in the future, as the attached controversy and debt only grew greater.
In short, as Michael summed it up, “I don’t think people realised just how bad it was going to get – they knew it was coming. Fergie hid it with results on the pitch, but with a lack of success even from last year, it’s increasingly evident how big a mess they’re in.”
The next generation of matchgoing Carneys and fans, full stop – quite literally awe-inspired. (Credit: Ben Carney)
One of the biggest concerns, as he and many others see it, is the crowd itself and how decisions such as these imminent hospitality seats continue to chip away at the spirit within the stands.
Fast forward some seven decades later, however, and when asked point blank if he felt the atmosphere had changed in the modern era, he couldn’t have answered quicker: “Oh yes, I think so – definitely.”
Touching on the ‘forwarding membership’ debacle brought in for the 23/24 season, he carried on: “They’re trying to force people to refund their ticket so they can resell it [at an inflated price]; they’re just making it so difficult. They want the end-of-season ticket holders over 65, full stop, I believe.”
Perhaps the hardest thing for us to hear was when Michael told us: “I don’t feel part of the club at all, and I haven’t for a long time. It’s that feeling of not belonging and loss of feeling like part of a family – they’ve got to get that back.
“How they’re going to do that, I have no idea. I think they’re rotten from top to bottom.”
This becomes an even more bitter pill to swallow when you consider how football can play a part in local communities and families like the Carneys; for instance, without Michael, his grandson Ben may never have enjoyed truly unforgettable moments like these:
Conveying a genuine feeling of heartbreak behind his treatment, in one exasperated moment, he could only utter, “It used to be so simple…”, before going on to joke that if things keep going as poorly as they are on the pitch, they won’t have as many tourists to attract and “they’ll want people like me back.”
We had the pleasure of speaking to Ben himself too, a fellow lifelong Red and now aspiring sports writer studying at UA92 (the further education facility set up by United legends) and he had no reservations in admitting that he owes his love the club, the sport and the magic of watching it live to Michael.
“To me, supporting United is a religion — a way of life”, he says. “It’s in my blood, and that’s all thanks to my grandad. This season, the troubling trends of the past decade have continued, both on and off the pitch, but never underestimate the stoic spirit that runs through Manchester United.
“Even in the bad times, we do it differently, and the chaotic win against Lyon was proof of that. As the chant goes: ‘Ruben Amorim, he’ll bring the glory days again.'”
Unfortunately, many well-meaning Reds, who also expressed their frustration with the club during that frankly bonkers game, have seen their memories of the night somewhat sullied.
Michael might be the oldest fan having to advocate for his own seat but he’s from the only United supporter holding up homemade signs.
Neverthless, without him, treasured memories in Ben’s life like Lyon, that PSG game in 2018/19, derbies both here in Manchester and when the Irwell flows into Merseyside – not to mention core, life-affirming experiences like ones seen above – may never have happened.
He’s been here through the ups and downs and brought the next line of his kin, friends and numerous others along with him; he’s also stuck with the club through the big periods of transition in the past too.
Each time a new chapter has been turned, he’s refused to be left behind and still has all the passion to witness whatever comes on the next page, but its the club that seems to be trying to obfuscate that as they prepare to ultimately leave the Theatre of Dreams after more than 115 years.
The Northwich-born fan says that he understands the need for a new stadium, even though he believes “renovating would’ve been alright” – admittedly quipping that it’s already a bit like Trigger’s brush from Only Fools given how many different iterations of Old Trafford he’s already lived through.
He pointed out that “people probably said the same” back when the club then known as Newton Heath left Clayton’s Bank Street back in 1910, but did admit he wasn’t the biggest fan of the bold and controversial vision for it, which has been said to resemble a circus top by more than a few.
Being perceived as a somewhat fitting metaphor for modern-day Man United by fans, rivals and neutrals alike, “it was ready-made for the p***-takes”, says Michael, but you can gurantee that he’d be going their in full faith and getting behind his team – only the problem is it isn’t exactly up to him anymore.
Michael text me not long after the full-time whistle following the incredible comeback against Lyon last month to joke, “Forget everything I said about them not being entertaining!”, even going on to rather sincerely apologise for what he feared was “too much ‘fings aren’t what they used to be’ chat.”
Like any truly loyal fan of a club, it doesn’t take much for him to be sucked back in and football cannot, under any circumstances, afford to take undying levels of support like this for granted. Without veterans like this, nights like the one now being set up against Spurs for the Europa League final just don’t exist.
When you factor in how much time, money and energy he’s sunk into travelling for games both home and away – getting trains from Northwich to Alty, then buses to the ground, coaches all over the country and even abroad to see his team play – circumstances like his imminent ousting feel all the more unjust.
He admitted himself that while he might not be around much longer to see the likes of the new stadium and maybe see finally win another league; to cheer on that next generation of youngsters onto the pitch and see a United reborn, he’s more than earned the right to spend every second he can at that ground.
Ruben’s reds might be going to Bilbao and, who knows, maybe they’ll even be back on track from next season, but one things for sure, they won’t get anywhere without true fans like Michael.
Five mindful activities for you to enjoy in Greater Manchester this Mental Health Awareness Week
Danny Jones
This month, among many other important observances, we here in Greater Manchester and all over the country are celebrating Mental Health Awareness Week, and there are plenty of ways for you to join in.
One of our New Year’s resolutions for 2025 was to ‘take better care of up there’; it’s important that you treat your brain like any other organ and muscle and look after it properly.
Between work and our personal lives, it can be easy for us to neglect our psychological health and wellbeing with the stresses of the everyday, but what better time to make a conscious effort to properly focus on it than Mental Health Awareness Week?
With that in mind – pun very much intended – we put together a quick little list of accessible, affordable and even some completely free things for you to do in and around Greater Manchester.
Five ways to take care of your mental health this week
1. Free yoga at Printworks
Having already started one of our days this week with yoga at the Printworks, we can confirm we definitely left feeling immensely relaxed.
Not only that, but given that these very bendy sessions are completely free to the public (to be fair, doing yoga pretty much anywhere is free, but you get the point), there’s really no reason not to give it a go.
With safety in numbers for anyone self-conscious of stretching in sight of passers-by, and Europe’s largest digital ceiling to make the experience even more mesmerising, we really can’t recommend it highly enough.
2. Casual charity 5k and quiz
Exercise really does work wonders for the old noggin’ when you need it, we firmly believe that, and so does doing something nice for a good cause.
That being said, this month’s Run The Streets event has swapped their usual ‘run and rave’ format for an even steadier plod with much-loved Sale-based run group, MileShyClub.
In an effort to keep things on a much calmer level after the laid-back social 5k around Manchester, they’ll be swapping out the typical club vibes for a casual little quiz. Find out more down below.
In fact, this particular Manc writer would go as far as to say that running has probably been the single most transformational thing for mental health full stop, whether that’s solo or with other lovely people.
So it’s a bloody good job that Greater Manchester is absolutely packed to bursting with running clubs, and if ending an evening jog with a quiz doesn’t quite sound like you’re thing, then a post-run pint might.
The likes of Manchester Road Runners have regular sessions throughout the week, including their flagship meet-up at The Wharf on Wednesdays, and as a community with dedicated mental health ambassadors to turn to, we can vouch for their commitment to mindfulness.
These keep getting bigger every year, but they never stop looking after each other.
4. ‘The Drop’ gig at an exciting new Manchester venue
Now, enough exercise for a bit, how about saving your legs for some dancing, or at least some light two-stepping? Yeah, you know want to…
We’d say listening to live music is up there with getting your body moving when it comes to blowing away cobwebs; it’s one of those things that can help express those feelings you might otherwise struggle to put words to, and that’s what ‘The Drop’ series is all about.
Teaming up with mental health through music charity Headstock, The Drop sees artists of all different genres and profiles spotlighted at local venues, with the latest coming up at the brand-new Renae bar.
5. Chill one of Greater Manchester’s many amazing green spaces
Last but not least, sometimes the best thing to do is nothing at all, and both within central Manchester and the boroughs beyond, you’ll find some of the most beautiful places to reconnect with nature.
Be it a stroll around your local park, walking the dog around a lake
It goes without saying that this is by no means a comprehensive list of brilliant things you can do to give your brain so well-deserved TLC for Mental Health Awareness Week 2025.
Go on a hike, pet a pup, take a day off (pulling a sickie if you need, we won’t tell anyone), have that extra brew, cook your favourite meal, or better yet, have one of our region’s many marvellous restaurants make it for you.
Please use resources like Manchester Mind and SHOUT if you need them; call Samaritans on 116 123, use the NHS (111 service), and if you or someone you know is in crisis, please dial 999 immediately.
As the saying goes, it really is the little things that go along sometimes, and if you take nothing else away from this list, just know that you are loved, everything will be ok, and most importantly, no one is alone.
The Manc -
19th June 2020 
