Chips N Tits

My step-father is a superb after-dinner speaker. At least, he would be if he could contain his excitement and stop telling the stories during the meal! In his youth during the 1960s-70s, he was a successful sportsman and enjoyed the life that came with it. Over the years, he has told me many great stories about his exploits around Cardiff. Many of his tales are clearly a product of the past, which is probably why they are still so entertaining today.

I’m sure I never did them justice, but when I wasn’t turning into Mick Hucknall, I would often regurgitate those golden oldies to my university friends during lunch. Or perhaps a particularly boring lecture. Either way, a big favourite was always the one about a long-forgotten, Friday night tradition.

The site where the Cardiff Marriott stands (an area which, thanks to demolition and redevelopment, currently looks like a war zone) was once a fruit market where my step-father began his working life. At the end of the working week, he and his co-workers would go along to an establishment to unwind. By day, the premises acted as a standard pub and restaurant. By night, it would show adult movies and stage a revue show called Chips N Tits.

The idea was quite simple. Your group would be seated at a table and served a delicious meal of chicken and chips. A chance to enjoy a breast before the breasts, I suppose. At the end of the meal, the lights would dim and a drum roll would begin. A young lady would then appear on the small stage and remove her clothes in an erotic manner. Anyone foolish enough to sit in the front row would be treated to a show so in-their-face that they would have some difficulty finishing their meal.




At the end of the performance, the house lights would be turned back on in time for the barman to call last orders.

It was during an evening of Chips N Tits that this particular story is set.

My step-father was never happy to just watch the main show. He liked to speak to the performers afterwards too. I suppose that you could say that he was Cardiff's first (and possibly only) Chips N Tits groupie.

He soon became a regular at the venue and his face became recognised by staff members and performers alike. He actually became the unofficial Chips N Tits chauffeur and would often find himself driving the girls back to their homes in the early hours of the morning (any excuse, eh?). Splott, Tremorfa, Lisvane - no distance was too far.

He therefore thought nothing of it when a new performer asked him for a lift home one night. As usual, he just asked her to direct him as he drove and away they went. It wasn't until he got to the M4 and she still hadn't shown any indication that they were nearly at her destination that he thought to ask “where do you live?”

"Wolverhampton", she replied.

True to his word, he did take her all the way to her door. As my mother was present when he told me this story, I'm not entirely sure what happened when they arrived in the West Midlands. However, I do know that he arrived back home in Cardiff at lunchtime the next day and slept until the following morning.

By the end of the 1970s, Chips N Tits was no more. However, as one friend once remarked, "I'd pass on the Wetherspoon's Curry Night for the Chips N Tits deal any day."