I hope you haven’t come here for mind-blowing super-macro photography this week, chaps. You may be disappointed. This is an in-depth delve into the social history of Clackers. Homage to 1971. You are most welcome.
Or, if you are from the US, Klackers.
Or, if you hail from Germany,
Or, if you are from some Eastern European place ending in ‘grad’, Popper-Knockers (oo, er, missus). Ker Bangers.
Remember them? The incredibly dangerous toy that every kid in the western world possessed? Think ‘Conkers’ but with two dangling, cherry-like balls on two strings joined at the top, made of sturdy, wrist-cracking glass.
Sadly, such a large proportion of the aforementioned western world succumbed to major eye injuries that the original glass version of the toy was banned, to be replaced by a plastic usurper. Bloody wusses.
This fine lady (who gives off the crafty impression that she may not have ‘clacked’ her knockers for many a good year), does an awesome impression of a world champ.
I never reached the heady heights of actual rotation. I aspired to be able to ‘clack’ whilst looking at my own arse, whilst undertaking the ‘ Super-Pro ‘ position. Awesome. It was not to be. I couldn’t do an Underpass under my Underpass without the danger of my parents being hauled in for quizzing over heinous, inexplicable bruising.
Did anyone out there have the Clack Factor? Still got it? Or even better, care to prove it…?
Watch this space for more of these amazing insights into classic blasts from the past. Keep it here, folks. You can’t buy this stuff you know.
Oh, and just for good measure, meet Mike Terry and his Clackers. I have no idea who this lovely gentleman is, or why his Clackers are so famed, but I would really like to find out, so if anyone knows his secret, please leave me a comment. The suspense has been killing me for days.