I AM sure you all know of Jim Bowen and I'll bet most of you listen to his radio programme and have seen him on TV.

Well, Jim and I go back a long, long way. When I first knew him he wasn't Jim Bowen, he was Jimmy Whittaker PE and sports master, a teacher at a big Longridge school. He and the football team came down to practice on some land that we had, they also came to the Lodestar for their social dos.

Jim gave us a lift behind the bar, and he and my husband John used to act the pig and made a very funny duo.

We thought Jim should have a go at it full time, and of course we said so. 'But I haven't got an act' was his excuse.

We were lucky because at that particular time, John and I were doing some work for Butlins, so Wally Goodman, the big entertainment manager, was asked if Jim could do a stint for a week at the Metropole at Blackpool, so that he could try it out so to speak and get his act together.

He did just that and was a big success, and as they say, the rest is history.

He was an excellent games and PE teacher -- well he had to be. He took it on himself to teach me how to walk on my hands down the middle of the Lodestar bar, no mean feat I can assure you.

And if you've tried walking on your hands, which I'm sure you all have, just try it again after closing time. And don't forget to tuck your gymslip into your knickers, I mean our Jim's got his reputation to think of.

And while we are on the subject of reputation, I read that he's having to leave his job because of a chance remark he's made. Well if it is only because he said Nig Nog, then I must admit to being guilty too.

It makes me feel so angry. No, that's not the word, annoyed? No, that's not it either. Disheartened may be a bit nearer. This word with lots of others, crackpot, noggin, ninny, nincompoop, bloody twerp (found out later this meant pregnant fish), ten shilling barmpot, these were the swear words of my childhood. Nothing remotely racial, because I never saw a black man till I was about 10.

All this sort of thing doesn't help race relations at all.

When I was at the Jubilee in the early Sixties we had quite a few Nigerian customers who were studying at the 'Tec. They came in regularly and played cards and dominoes in the vault. We called them Paddy, Ace and Sam, they called me Snowflake. We thought it funny, they thought it funny and they were accepted, they were one of the lads.

I think if the great and good left us alone, we the black, brown, yellow, white and coffee coloured, would work out our own methods of communication.

At the moment we are all struggling to find some common ground, and we are not being helped by this sort of petty bigotry which merely stokes up resentment.

Who was offended by this remark? I would like to bet it wasn't anyone from the black community, they have too much sense. I have it on good authority that no complaints were received.

Would we not get along better without all this interference? I wonder if all this press and public attention doesn't just add to the so-called 'problem' making things much more difficult.

Anyway Jim, the best of luck, and by the way, I'm just a bit rusty with this walking on my hands lark, so now that you have a bit of time to spare...

PS: I wonder what I would have won if I'd have thrown that last dart?