Has any shop had more bonkers customers than this?

Henry’s Records             *Don’t ask for Max Bygraves or an all-day breakfast*

17, Station Road, Burton-on-Trent, Staffordshire DE14 1BX

01283 510110

henrysrecords.co.uk; henrysrecords@postmaster.co.uk

Tuesday-Saturday 9.30am-4pm

Established 1996

Stock: Vinyl, CD, Pre-owned, Memorabilia

When visiting Henry’s Records, the first of your senses that you become attuned to is smell as opposed to sound. This somewhat eccentric establishment is located in front of the town’s brewery. Outside, the smell of the brewery dominates the streets. But inside Henry’s, the smell of incense hangs in the air, reminding me of the record shops of my youth.

The shop is full of the most fascinating memorabilia, including original posters of Morecambe and Wise, James Bond and Carry On films. Behind the counter stands a life-size cardboard cutout of Dolly Parton. The shop’s owner John Brisbrowne informs me she is his assistant…but only works 9 to 5!

You could easily spend hours here as there is so much to see. The music that is played while you browse is a soundtrack of classic 1960s and 1970s songs. The shop is named after John’s middle name. He thought Henry’s sounded better than John’s. Always a great collector of vinyl, and having records stored in every room of his home, he took a short-term lease on the shop, with the idea of closing as soon as he had sold his collection. However, he enjoyed serving customers who were delighted a record shop had opened in the town, and could rarely resist the record collections that he was offered to purchase. Over the years he has begun to lose patience with some of the characters who come in describing some of them as “bloody nutters”.

There was the occasion when John noticed a man pulling vast quantities of CDs out of the racks and stacking them on the floor. John did not pay much attention, assuming he was going to be buying big. After about two hours, the man approached the counter. John was perplexed as he did not have any CDs with him and the pile stacked high on the floor was no longer there.

“No need to pay me, I just did it to help you out,” the man said.

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“Well, I noticed that lots of your CDs were in the wrong section. You had John Lennon under L and Joni Mitchell under M. To help you, I moved them to the J section. I have done the same in all your CD racking from A to Z”.

The look on John’s face was enough to convey to the man that his efforts were not appreciated and he beat a hasty retreat. It took John the rest of the day to put the titles back into their correct alphabetical sections.

Another bizarre encounter involved a family group of mum, dad and son who came up to the counter, walking past thousands of records in the process, for mum to ask:

“Do you have three All-Day Breakfasts?”

“Are they a band?”

“No, three all-day breakfasts to eat. We are starving.”

At this point dad decided to take over, clearly thinking his wife had not got the message through:

“Are you not open?”

“Yes, I am open, but I am a record shop which does not cook all-day breakfasts.”

“Would you cook one for us?”

“No! Look around. I have no tables, chairs, crockery or cutlery; just records.”

“Oh, OK. Is there anywhere in Burton that does all-day breakfasts then?”

“Try B&Q”, John said, sarcastically.”

“OK. We will go there then.”

And off they went to annoy the staff at the builder’s merchants.

Another problematic customer was the woman who enquired if John had “anything by Max Bygraves”. Having found the old crooner a hard act to sell, John had accumulated quite a few Max titles over the years. But some were in the shop, some in a lock-up and others in a garage. “Fantastic,” said the woman, “I will take everything you have. I will come down Monday to collect them”. John pointed out that he was normally closed on a Monday but would open especially for her. He spent all of Sunday searching his stock and came up with more than 20 items. Next day, Max’s biggest fan turned up and John proudly presented all the stock he had dug out.

“Oh, my mother will be so disappointed,” she said. “There are no DVDs. All she wants is DVDs”.

“You said that you will buy anything by Max Bygraves.”

“What I meant was that I would take anything on DVD.”

“But you did not say that.”

“I know, but that is what I meant. I have come all this way for nothing. My mother will be heartbroken.”

“Take this LP. You can have it. Why not go back to your mother and if she is half as thick as you, wave at it up and down in front of her face? Perhaps she will think she is watching a DVD.”

John’s all-time worst customer was a local man he christened Tamworth Bottle Glasses (TBG) due to him wearing glasses with lenses so thick that John reckoned he could see Jupiter through them. Their paths first crossed when John was doing some filing under the counter and he heard a voice say to him.

“My wife has left me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“My wife leaving me isn’t the worse news though. She scarpered with my record collection, so I’m down here to replace it.”

John was sorry to hear about his marital problems, but delighted he had visited him in order to re-purchase his collection. John wondered, optimistically, how big his collection had been. Two hours later TBG returned to the counter, carrying two albums.

“Is that it - just two records?”

“No. I am after one other record.”

“What is it?”

“I heard Adam Faith sing it on TV last night but don’t know what it is called.”

Luckily, John had watched the programme and knew the song TBG was talking about: Adam Faith’s 1959 No.1 hit “What Do You Want?”.

“It’s ‘What Do You Want?’.”

“Yes, I do want the song from the programme.”

“It is Adam Faith singing ‘What Do You Want?’.”

“Yes, I want the song that Adam Faith sang on the programme last night, but I’m not sure what it’s called.”

“The song from the programme last night that Adam Faith sang was ‘What Do You Want?’!”

“Yes, that is what I want, the song from the programme.”

 At this point, John took his hand and marched TBG to the Adam Faith section and thrust the record into the hands of another satisfied customer.

 

John dreads rainy days. Because the shop is so close to the railway station, people take refuge whenever a downpour occurs. Often it can be jam-packed with many people pretending to be looking, but hardly anybody buying anything. John observes from the counter through gritted teeth as they drip water over his beloved vinyl. On the plus side, if you are planning a visit, take the train and within a minute of arriving you can be looking through the racks of a great Burton institution.

 Read the full story in Graham Jones' book 'The Vinyl Revival and the Shops That Made it Happen'.  Support the Vinyl Revival by buying Graham's book here.

The books of Graham Jones are available in record shops or online. The latest book The Vinyl Revival and the Shops that Made it Happen has been turned in to a film. It has just been released on DVD and is available in record shops or online. Distributed by Proper Music.

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