A Man Called Wigan

I had to let you all know about this guy that was on the scene many years ago. This guy was dedicated to Northern Soul. He had all the clothes, records, went to all the best clubs but something was lacking. Looking back now he was something like Mr. Bean with soul. Please do not get me wrong. He was not disabled in any way. He was, how can I put it?... funny. He didn't know it; but everyone else did. Read on you will understand what I mean.
The first time I saw him was at a non-soul club in central Lancashire. A delegation of Soulies were trying to convince the manager of the club that playing Northern Soul would bring in punters from all over the place, plus big bucks for himself. He was almost convinced and laid down a few ground rules one of those was "no blokes dancing together". We might as well have stopped there. But not Wigan. He convinced the manager that we didn't dance with blokes (in reality we didn't, it just appeared that way on a crowded floor) because a new dance had come in called the Soul Waltz!? He said he would show the manager at the disco the following Wednesday. Thing was 'Wigan' just could not dance. But we waited for him the following week. The disco was playing the normal crap then in walks Wigan with his mum, yes his mum. The DJ put on some of Wigans records and up they got. The best way I can explain the dance they did is 'line dancing with your shoe laces tied together'. We laughed until our sides split. The manager looked on in shock. But over the months he mellowed and allowed a few Northern Nights. The place never took off. I wonder why?
Wigan followed the fashions of the scene but in his own distinct way. The way he dressed was weird. He had the correct trousers, shirts and badges etc. But never looked right. The trousers were cut too short, the shirts too tight or too baggy and the badges upside down. But to be honest he did start a fashion that we all followed. That was the practice of covering our eyes whenever he danced.
On one occasion he was dancing and for some reason jumped up in the air and landed in a grotesque position. We ran to his aid and found that he had bitten the tip of his tongue off. Off he went to hospital to get stitched up. We thought that was the last we would see of him for a few weeks. However, a few hours later he was back dancing away like nothing had happened, with his swollen tongue sticking out of his mouth like a black pudding.
Wigan you were a star mate, as much part of the scene as the music, DJ's and clubs. I often wonder if Rowan Atkinson ever met you and gave him the idea for a character. Wherever you are mate thanks for the memories.
Bob