Dr John Coulter ✍ I’m recalling an embarrassing incident when a schoolboy-type prank almost landed me in trouble with MI6!


At first reading, you would think that having a primary degree, masters, two postgraduate qualifications plus a doctorate would mean that I approach every situation in life with large doses of common sense and maturity.

While God blessed me with a dark sense of humour to help me cope with the stresses and strains of being a preacher’s kid, I’m now assuming the Good Lord meant me to use that humour wisely - not land me in even more potential trouble.

The title of this column comes from my life-long love of my favourite television sitcom - Dad’s Army. For me, it was compulsive viewing and still is, especially the original 1971 movie and it’s later remake.

One of the accident-prone characters in this sitcom is Private Pike, whom Home Guard Captain Mainwaring often refers to as ‘you stupid boy’.

What makes this tale even more embarrassing is that it took place - not as a teenage Presbyterian minister’s son in the 1970s - but as I had just turned 50 in 2009!

For years, dad and I had talked about a father/son holiday in London spending as much time as possible at the city’s Imperial War Museum. Finally, for a 50th birthday present, dad decided it was time to honour this promise and he booked a break for the two of us in London.

Even at 50, touring the Imperial War Museum - and especially its Holocaust Memorial section - is still many men’s boyhood dream. We stayed in a plush hotel overlooking the River Thames, within about a 15-minute walk from the museum.

Dad had just turned 80 and in spite of his spritely steps along the Stormont corridors, his legs would give him trouble so he would carefully time his walks.

Dad was no longer the skinny Presbyterian assistant minister who had served in Westbourne Presbyterian Church in east Belfast in the very early Sixties.

Since entering politics in 1982 when he announced that he was seeking the Ulster Unionist Party nomination for North Antrim for the next year’s Westminster General Election, his weight had rocketed considerably.

Indeed, he quite proudly used to joke with fellow politicians that he had become President of the Curved Tie Association! At Stormont, some MLAs had bought him a wee fat Buddha statue wearing a tie!

During his time at Stormont, from 1998-2011, when people visited his office, Room 306, they would be bemused with a born again Presbyterian minister having a statute of Buddha in the office.

The Buddha with the tie mysteriously disappeared from Room 306 in Parliament Buildings when dad retired from Stormont in 2011 and has never been seen since.

So if anyone reading this column should happen to know the whereabouts of the emblem of the Curved Tie Association, please do get in touch with me via The Pensive Quill as I would really like it back!

Meanwhile, on the first day of our London expedition, I was like an over-excited schoolboy at the museum, virtually wanting to climb into the cockpit of the planes on display. Such is the variety of exhibits to see at the museum, it cannot be done in a single day, hence the four-day holiday.

Now at age 50, you might think it would be safe to assume that I didn’t need accompanying by a parent to the museum each day after breakfast. In preparing for the trip, I had noticed that the hotel was within walking distance of the headquarters of MI6.

The schoolboy in me thought - what about a selfie with MI6 headquarters in the background with me wearing my ‘KGB still watching you’ tee-shirt? Cue the Captain Mainwaring quote - ‘you stupid boy’!

Unbeknown to everyone, I secretly packed my KGB tee-shirt. After day one at the museum, dad decided to take a nap in the hotel while I would make the return trip to see more planes.

Leaving dad to snooze and enjoy his afternoon nap, off I set into the perfect London sunshine in spite of the winter season. I had my KGB tee-shirt under my shirt, camera and water bottle in my mini back pack. As far as dad was concerned, I was at the museum.

Off I strolled across the bridge which would take me almost near MI6 headquarters. The plan - on paper - was simple. Me standing with the KGB tee-shirt with the MI6 headquarters in the background - the perfect silly selfie.

I pick my spot. Unbutton my shirt. Check in phone that I can see the headquarters and the KGB logo - and snap! No, not the camera on the mobile phone, but my back went again.

It was my past catching up with me yet again. In 1976, I’d got a kicking in the Presbyterian church hall simply for being a minister’s son and it has left me with a weakness in my lower back ever since.

Through my late teens, 20s, and 30s, I could control the pain with medication, but as I entered my 40s, it became increasingly more difficult to predict when the pain spasms would strike.

As if I was back in 1976, the sharp spasm in my lower back on the left hand side would suddenly kick in (forgive the pun!); my legs would go very weak, and if I was not holding onto something near, I would collapse completely.

My eldest son christened it ‘daddy’s falling down trick’. Once I hit 40 plus, anything could trigger the spasm - getting out of bed or the car, turning sharply, even lifting something heavy. But on this sunny day in London, it was simply me raising my mobile phone to get a selfie.

The spasm hit hard and heavy. I felt the legs starting to go. Luckily, there was a concrete bollard nearby and I grabbed it. Then the awkwardness of the situation settled in along with the pain.

So picture the scene. A middle-aged man with an Irish accent, wearing a back pack, holding a mobile phone, and wearing a clearly visible tee-shirt with the logo ‘KGB’ along with the Communist hammer and sickle symbol is beside MI6 headquarters - what would you think?

In spite of the pain, all I could think off as I clung to the bollard to prevent myself falling onto the pavement were imaginary headlines - ‘UUP MLA’s son shot dead outside MI6 HQ’; ‘KGB attack on British security building’, ‘SAS heroes nobble KGB bomber’ … and so the list went on.

I couldn’t even get my painkillers from my back pack as that meant falling onto the street. I tried to look as normal as possible, but how can you with a back pack, KGB tee-shirt and mobile phone near MI6 headquarters.

Using breathing exercises to stem the spasms, I told myself: “Think, John, think!” The answer soon came. I couldn’t phone dad as he wouldn’t believe me that I’d been so silly and childish.

Luckily, I knew a relative was also in London at the same time. I phoned them. They, too, initially did not believe me, thinking it was a wind-up and someone could not be such a ‘stupid boy’.

Then the penny dropped with my relative that I really had got myself into bother near MI6 headquarters. Minutes later, my relative arrived in a traditional black London cab.

“Get in now!” They yelled. “I can’t move!” Came the pathetic reply. Out jumped my relative, and pushed me into the cab. It looked like a Mafia abduction.

As we made the short journey back to the hotel, in spite of the constant spasms, my plea was: “Don’t tell dad!” It was agreed that the spasm incident has taken place near the museum and that’s why I had rung my relative, whom I had subsequently invited for a slap-up evening meal - which was technically not a lie - but the stunt near MI6 headquarters would not be mentioned as I buttoned up my shirt to cover the KGB tee-shirt.

I still have my KGB tee-shirt, but my relative constantly tells me - “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again; you could have been shot dead!”

I never told dad of my escapade. But I can imagine meeting up with dad in eternity when the Lamb’s Book of Life is opened and God reading out my childish prank. Dad will respond: “You stupid boy!”

Follow Dr John Coulter on Twitter @JohnAHCoulter
Listen to commentator Dr John Coulter’s programme, Call In Coulter, every Saturday morning around 10.15 am on Belfast’s Christian radio station, Sunshine 1049 FM. Listen online

Diary Of A Preacher’s Kid 🔴 You Stupid Boy!

Dr John Coulter ✍ I’m recalling an embarrassing incident when a schoolboy-type prank almost landed me in trouble with MI6!


At first reading, you would think that having a primary degree, masters, two postgraduate qualifications plus a doctorate would mean that I approach every situation in life with large doses of common sense and maturity.

While God blessed me with a dark sense of humour to help me cope with the stresses and strains of being a preacher’s kid, I’m now assuming the Good Lord meant me to use that humour wisely - not land me in even more potential trouble.

The title of this column comes from my life-long love of my favourite television sitcom - Dad’s Army. For me, it was compulsive viewing and still is, especially the original 1971 movie and it’s later remake.

One of the accident-prone characters in this sitcom is Private Pike, whom Home Guard Captain Mainwaring often refers to as ‘you stupid boy’.

What makes this tale even more embarrassing is that it took place - not as a teenage Presbyterian minister’s son in the 1970s - but as I had just turned 50 in 2009!

For years, dad and I had talked about a father/son holiday in London spending as much time as possible at the city’s Imperial War Museum. Finally, for a 50th birthday present, dad decided it was time to honour this promise and he booked a break for the two of us in London.

Even at 50, touring the Imperial War Museum - and especially its Holocaust Memorial section - is still many men’s boyhood dream. We stayed in a plush hotel overlooking the River Thames, within about a 15-minute walk from the museum.

Dad had just turned 80 and in spite of his spritely steps along the Stormont corridors, his legs would give him trouble so he would carefully time his walks.

Dad was no longer the skinny Presbyterian assistant minister who had served in Westbourne Presbyterian Church in east Belfast in the very early Sixties.

Since entering politics in 1982 when he announced that he was seeking the Ulster Unionist Party nomination for North Antrim for the next year’s Westminster General Election, his weight had rocketed considerably.

Indeed, he quite proudly used to joke with fellow politicians that he had become President of the Curved Tie Association! At Stormont, some MLAs had bought him a wee fat Buddha statue wearing a tie!

During his time at Stormont, from 1998-2011, when people visited his office, Room 306, they would be bemused with a born again Presbyterian minister having a statute of Buddha in the office.

The Buddha with the tie mysteriously disappeared from Room 306 in Parliament Buildings when dad retired from Stormont in 2011 and has never been seen since.

So if anyone reading this column should happen to know the whereabouts of the emblem of the Curved Tie Association, please do get in touch with me via The Pensive Quill as I would really like it back!

Meanwhile, on the first day of our London expedition, I was like an over-excited schoolboy at the museum, virtually wanting to climb into the cockpit of the planes on display. Such is the variety of exhibits to see at the museum, it cannot be done in a single day, hence the four-day holiday.

Now at age 50, you might think it would be safe to assume that I didn’t need accompanying by a parent to the museum each day after breakfast. In preparing for the trip, I had noticed that the hotel was within walking distance of the headquarters of MI6.

The schoolboy in me thought - what about a selfie with MI6 headquarters in the background with me wearing my ‘KGB still watching you’ tee-shirt? Cue the Captain Mainwaring quote - ‘you stupid boy’!

Unbeknown to everyone, I secretly packed my KGB tee-shirt. After day one at the museum, dad decided to take a nap in the hotel while I would make the return trip to see more planes.

Leaving dad to snooze and enjoy his afternoon nap, off I set into the perfect London sunshine in spite of the winter season. I had my KGB tee-shirt under my shirt, camera and water bottle in my mini back pack. As far as dad was concerned, I was at the museum.

Off I strolled across the bridge which would take me almost near MI6 headquarters. The plan - on paper - was simple. Me standing with the KGB tee-shirt with the MI6 headquarters in the background - the perfect silly selfie.

I pick my spot. Unbutton my shirt. Check in phone that I can see the headquarters and the KGB logo - and snap! No, not the camera on the mobile phone, but my back went again.

It was my past catching up with me yet again. In 1976, I’d got a kicking in the Presbyterian church hall simply for being a minister’s son and it has left me with a weakness in my lower back ever since.

Through my late teens, 20s, and 30s, I could control the pain with medication, but as I entered my 40s, it became increasingly more difficult to predict when the pain spasms would strike.

As if I was back in 1976, the sharp spasm in my lower back on the left hand side would suddenly kick in (forgive the pun!); my legs would go very weak, and if I was not holding onto something near, I would collapse completely.

My eldest son christened it ‘daddy’s falling down trick’. Once I hit 40 plus, anything could trigger the spasm - getting out of bed or the car, turning sharply, even lifting something heavy. But on this sunny day in London, it was simply me raising my mobile phone to get a selfie.

The spasm hit hard and heavy. I felt the legs starting to go. Luckily, there was a concrete bollard nearby and I grabbed it. Then the awkwardness of the situation settled in along with the pain.

So picture the scene. A middle-aged man with an Irish accent, wearing a back pack, holding a mobile phone, and wearing a clearly visible tee-shirt with the logo ‘KGB’ along with the Communist hammer and sickle symbol is beside MI6 headquarters - what would you think?

In spite of the pain, all I could think off as I clung to the bollard to prevent myself falling onto the pavement were imaginary headlines - ‘UUP MLA’s son shot dead outside MI6 HQ’; ‘KGB attack on British security building’, ‘SAS heroes nobble KGB bomber’ … and so the list went on.

I couldn’t even get my painkillers from my back pack as that meant falling onto the street. I tried to look as normal as possible, but how can you with a back pack, KGB tee-shirt and mobile phone near MI6 headquarters.

Using breathing exercises to stem the spasms, I told myself: “Think, John, think!” The answer soon came. I couldn’t phone dad as he wouldn’t believe me that I’d been so silly and childish.

Luckily, I knew a relative was also in London at the same time. I phoned them. They, too, initially did not believe me, thinking it was a wind-up and someone could not be such a ‘stupid boy’.

Then the penny dropped with my relative that I really had got myself into bother near MI6 headquarters. Minutes later, my relative arrived in a traditional black London cab.

“Get in now!” They yelled. “I can’t move!” Came the pathetic reply. Out jumped my relative, and pushed me into the cab. It looked like a Mafia abduction.

As we made the short journey back to the hotel, in spite of the constant spasms, my plea was: “Don’t tell dad!” It was agreed that the spasm incident has taken place near the museum and that’s why I had rung my relative, whom I had subsequently invited for a slap-up evening meal - which was technically not a lie - but the stunt near MI6 headquarters would not be mentioned as I buttoned up my shirt to cover the KGB tee-shirt.

I still have my KGB tee-shirt, but my relative constantly tells me - “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again; you could have been shot dead!”

I never told dad of my escapade. But I can imagine meeting up with dad in eternity when the Lamb’s Book of Life is opened and God reading out my childish prank. Dad will respond: “You stupid boy!”

Follow Dr John Coulter on Twitter @JohnAHCoulter
Listen to commentator Dr John Coulter’s programme, Call In Coulter, every Saturday morning around 10.15 am on Belfast’s Christian radio station, Sunshine 1049 FM. Listen online

No comments