We used to call him Grenade Man - he used to stand on the corner of Stafford Street and the ring road chucking imaginary grenades at passing cars.
There was a time when the Poly Students' Union organised a tramps and tarts disco at Brinsford Lodge, which was a a Poly residence out at Featherstone. We all got dressed up in our girlfriends' nighties and stuck balloons down the fronts then jumped on the coach at Stafford Street car park. A couple of local lads had got onto the bus and were sitting in the back swearing. One of them noticed that most of the blokes getting on were in drag and asked (Wolves accent here) "Eh! Is this the boos to the Top of the Town at Stafford?" I replied "No mate, it's the transvestites' bus to Brinsford Lodge!" His mate replied "Eh? Transvestoites? What's them?" His pal shouted in horror "Q****s mate, fookin' q****s!" and the two of them sprinted off the bus to much derision from the students.
Innocent fun!