Wrote this about him this week for a website I'm starting up.
I truly hate the kerb-crawling prick.
– If any budding impressionist wishes to ‘do’ Pleat here’s some handy tips.
Firstly, mimic the universal voice used to denote a ‘nerd’ – say something clever-sounding like ‘I think you’ll find that A multiplied by B is the natural circumference of C’ if that helps. Then imagine that the nerd in question grew up to be a market trader with a sex-dungeon in his cellar.
Mix the nasally twang of nerd, the earthy undertone of a working class upbringing, and the creepy timbre of an old man who would sneakily leer at your teenage daughter all together and you’re nearly done.
Finally mispronounce every name, particularly the foreign ones, in a bid to sound more cultured and knowledgeable than the commentator sitting beside you.
There. You have him.
We all remember when he ran maniacally across the Maine Road turf after seeing his Luton side avoid relegation in the early 80s. Wearing a suit borrowed from a best man at a pikey wedding his delighted dance and skip was reminiscent of someone who’s discovered the lifeless prostitute in his car isn’t dead after all.
