The African King

My grandad just told me a story about when he was a kid. Apparently he was pretty good at boxing and even thought about trying to be professional. Anyway, in those days there were traveling carnivals with boxing rings where you could try to stay in a fight for three rounds to win a pound. I can imagine it exactly, in my head its in black and white and they're wearing all-in-ones. So he lined up to get fixed up for a fight, and he was supposed to fight the Welsh Schoolboys champion but when they weighed him in they found he was too heavy, so they matched him up with the biggest boxer there. He was called "The African King". My grandad told me it was doubly frightening to him because this was the first black fella he'd ever seen. He got battered, but managed to stay in the ring and win his pound. In his words, "That African King couldn't catch me with a bike, it was like if you've ever seen one of those films where the bloke sees the other bloke and tries to get under the ropes but they won't let him, it was just like that." Brilliant image ... he did catch him though because when he got home his father, my great Grandfather John, saw his nose spread all over his face and smacked him again. They were in the back yard and he threw a shilling on the floor and said, "If you want to fight, your brothers will give you a fight for that right here". They didn't fight, the point was made. I told my grandad not to worry, I have no intention of fighting at the fairground.