slider 2

I’m not eating any of that foreign muck


Brian Thacker knew very little about his dad’s life. He knew he was born in Royal Leamington Spa in 1931 and
that he was one of eight children. He knew that he spent time in a children’s home when his mum died and that he
served in the Royal Navy as a cook. He met Brian’s mum at a dance hall in Birmingham and emigrated to
Australia with four kids in tow in 1967. But that was pretty much it.

In a fearsomely foolish display of pro-activity Brian Thacker decided that the only way to finally uncover the truth
about his dad’s mysterious early life was to drag 73-year-old Harry Thacker off the couch and half way
across the planet – to England, Gibraltar, Malta, Sri Lanka and Singapore – in an attempt to retrace his Dad’s history.

Along the way Brian hoped to finally figure out just how Harry lost those two fingers on his right hand, not to mention
where he picked up such an inexhaustible supply of truly awful jokes. Which is all fine with Harry, just so long as
Brian was paying and Harry didn’t have to ‘eat any of that bloody foreign muck.’


 ‘In hilarious prose, Thacker describes the endless, leaden roast beef and Yorkshire pudding dinners his English relatives load on him.
An amusing portrait of a prickly but affectionate father-son relationship’
American Library Association

‘It’s the humour in difficult times that makes this book so enjoyable.’
The Daily Telegraph