THERE was a lot of hoopla recently about comedian Paddy McGuinness riding a Raleigh Chopper a long way in aid of Children In Need.

A noble achievement indeed and much money raised for charity. However, it appears that for most of the journey he was accompanied by a television camera crew and no doubt a back-up team to rub the sore bits better.

Neither of which was on hand for a Worcester character known simply as Mr Perry, no one seems to remember his Christian name, who performed just as amazing a feat in the 1930s.

Except there was no charity element. As a modest shop owner, Perry didn’t do charity, especially if it involved foreigners.

He ran a one-man business in the St John’s area of the city selling and repairing bicycles, a pro rata form of transport more popular then than now. Above his premises was the name H Perry but no one knows what the H stood for.

Remarkably, an American staying in Weston-super-Mare got wind that Perry had a Penny Farthing cycle for sale. He contacted the shop to say he would like to see the bike so, ever eager for a sale, Perry jumped on the machine and rode it the 80 or more miles down to the seaside town. Which would have been some journey along the highways and byways of the day.

On arrival the American asked Perry how much he wanted for the cycle and was told a price. However, in a bit of sharp practice, the potential buyer made a lower offer, assuming having come all that way the seller would not want to go home empty-handed. It was a bad miscalculation.

The American had severely underestimated the redoubtable Perry who refused to do a deal and promptly got back on the Penny Farthing and rode it all the way home again to Worcester. All the while cursing every occupant of the Land of the Free from Davy Crockett to Babe Ruth.

But this was not the only time H Perry entered Worcester folklore. When the Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII who was to abdicate for the love of Mrs Simpson, visited the city in 1932 to officially open the reconstructed Worcester Bridge and the revamped Cripplegate Park, Perry became so excited he fired a shotgun into the air in celebration.

Security was as keen then as now and police quickly swooped on the gun-toting Perry and carted him off to the cells. However, it appears the Prince, who was an enormously popular figure before he became King, got to hear of this act of over-enthusiasm and asked the police to let the high spirits off lightly. It appears they did just that because no trace can be found of any court appearance by Perry which would seem to indicate he was just cautioned for his exuberance and not charged.

St John’s has always had its fair share of characters and here are a few from more recent times.

For over 50 years, until he retired in 1994, Horace Perks ran his potpourri of a corner shop at 71 St John’s. It stood on the junction where Bransford Road comes into St John’s, opposite the old cinema site.

It was an 'Open All Hours' type of business. When he packed up Horace was still selling pet food by the scoop and the shop had old-fashioned wooden shelves and a good old-fashioned smell. A combination of dry animal food, garden fertiliser and cardboard boxes.

Then there was Cordles, a grocery shop which stood opposite HW Perks and closed in 1992. Records showed a grocery business had been run from the quaint and narrow building ever since the late 18th century.

Another long-time operator in St John’s was Les Jacson-Jones who ran the Bush Inn with his wife Helen for 33 years before leaving in 1992. The Bush had been the centre of the city's emerging rock ’n’ roll scene in the late 1950s and even boasted its own band The Bush Boys.

The group produced one of St John’s real stars in a young lady called Rita who fronted the lads energetically shaking a pair of maracas. It was a skill Mick Jagger was to perfect with the Rolling Stones a few years later although there is no record of him pinching it off Rita. As far as we know.