Eulogy for Paddy - Patrick Joseph Naughton RIP

Paddy Naughton

Tributes have been pouring in for Paddy - Patrick Joseph Naughton (of Spennymoor formerly Consett) who died on the 16th August, 2026. His funeral took place at St Charles Borromeo Catholic Church in Tudhoe, Co Durham, on Friday 11 September, followed by a private interment at Tudhoe Cemetery and a reception at The Black Horse, Tudhoe to celebrate Patrick's life.

Patrick's brother Ged sends this beautiful eulogy.

Patrick Joseph Naughton was born on May 6, 1965 - six-five-six-five as he loved to tell you - at Richard Murray hospital in Blackhill, Consett. He was the first child of Mary and Jim.

He was also the first of 12 grandchildren on the Loughran side of the family, and the fourth of 12 on the Naughton side.

Paddy went to St Patrick's Junior School in Stanley Street, Consett. In Standard Fours, he had a leading role in a school play as the Demon Prince. The following year, he starred as Jesus in the St Pat's Passion Play.

From the Devil to the Son of God in only 12 months! Knowing he had peaked, he gave up acting after that.

At St Bede's Lanchester, he was voted Head Boy by his peers in 1982-83 and made a memorable speech at prizegiving, surreptitiously flicking the Vs at the audience while keeping a completely straight face.

After school, he spent six months in West Berlin in 1984, learning German, doing night shift in a residential home - practising throwing and catching cigarettes in his mouth on the long, quiet nights - and visiting the Celtic Cottage with his friends. A small piece of Ireland in cold war Germany. His love of Ireland was something he'd later pass on to his sons.

He studied German and Danish at Newcastle Uni, and he loved Denmark in particular. He came back pretty fluent from a term at Silkeborg Højskole, and at a Newcastle United talk-in, he stood up and asked the Newcastle defender Bjorn Kristensen a question in Danish. Kristensen was halfway into his answer before realising he wasn't speaking English. He presumed Paddy was from Denmark and asked him what he was doing in England.

After a year working at Earl's House, Paddy trained as a primary teacher - the job he'd always wanted but which he hadn't spoken much about, after his father's careers advice that any alternative to teaching would be better.

He applied for a job at a big primary in Gateshead, but instead found himself one of only three teaching staff at St Mary's Wingate, where he was right at home, and where he later returned as acting head.

In between, he was deputy head at St Pius's in The Grove, Consett - a school where Mam, Dad and Auntie Margaret had all taught - ensuring a continuous Naughton teaching presence from the late fifties/early sixties to the late nineties.

He finally got his big school move when he became Headteacher at St Charles' in Spennymoor, where he met his beloved Fiona, and his best pal, Joe.

Paddy was the youngest headteacher in County Durham before he'd reached his mid-30s, and it was only right and proper that he also got to meet neighbour Tony Blair.

After a few years though, he decided to give that all up - and considered a variety of alternatives. But a chance meeting meant he returned to his first love - classroom teaching. He accepted three hours a week at Our Lady and St Thomas's in Willington, which became two days a week, and which lasted for 18 years. He managed to fit in a couple of days a week back at St Pius's too. He loved music and set up singing clubs in both schools where the kids would switch effortlessly from Paddy Works on the Railway to The Ramones.

Paddy was a dedicated and inspiring teacher. One message from a former pupil in the last few weeks said: "I always knew if I'd messed up at school with Paddy, because he had that rare capability as a teacher of letting you know he was disappointed with you without even having to say anything. And it wasn't to let you know you'd done wrong, but he just knew you had the potential to be better."

Paddy generally didn't rise to provocation - instead he'd find a way to level things up on his own terms. After a gruelling OFSTED inspection, Paddy would hold a 're-assembly' with the staff. It was about re-building team spirit but he was also sticking his tongue out at the opposition.

He had a season ticket at Newcastle and went for years with Russell and Ian Hanlon - who we've also lost recently - and their dad, Cedric. One would drive, and the other three would admire the scenery and have a few pints.

Paddy turned this chore into a game. You could earn points for things that occurred on your driving duty.

You got one point for whichever of the loud, opinionated crew in the row behind turned up. Paddy had nicknamed them all - from Bobby Davro on the left to The Man Who's All Right on the right. If all eight were there, you got an extra point. He collected statistics, issued updates, and organised an awards night.

The whole thing became known as HEED, and it grew into trips to Newcastle away games - and then other places when he dropped the football part as it kept spoiling things.

In London, he left a pile of folders - including an embroidered HEED hat - on the hotel reception for each HEED delegate to receive at check-in. Berlin needed a phrasebook, which Paddy prepared himself, containing useful phrases like "I am smoking a pipe," "I've got webbed feet," and "I am a wizard."

A few years before his 40th birthday, Paddy began putting a band together. LadyKillers played to 400 people at his birthday party in May 2005, and at least 50 more times over the next 12 years.

Paddy told me he was sick of hearing local, young bands playing Sweet Home Alabama and Hotel California, and he wanted to play the stuff he would listen to himself - mostly punk, with a few rock tunes thrown in. It became a genre in its own right: Luxury Punk.

Paddy was no virtuoso, but he was LadyKillers' team captain and stood in the middle of the stage and held the whole thing together. The Joe Harvey of Luxury Punk.

And it was the same with his family. When circumstances changed and Michael Swift could have disappeared from his life, Paddy made it clear to him: you don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to.

And who else could Paddy have dangled in the bathroom window when he lost his keys, that time Newcastle beat Man Utd 5-0?

With Joe, there was a shared love of the Saw Doctors and the Toy Dolls, delight in finding your perfect route by car, and a litany of daft phrases at bedtime. Something Paddy and I had also done when we were kids.

Paddy made a speech for his retirement at Willington, referring to the love of God guiding and protecting him at crucial moments.

He only realised the significance afterwards - that, whenever he thought he knew the best next step, God was nudging him towards places and people he hadn't predicted, but where he could really make a difference.

A friend he made in Number One Club noticed the air of calm that always seemed to exist around him, and tried to put it into words.

"People, Paddy. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I think I do, Peter."

"No, you don't. People."

And so it went on…

Paddy loved that.

At the funeral there was an appeal for donations to Five Acres Community Garden: ( www.fiveacres.uk/. ) a day centre and community hub that supports school leavers and adults with additional needs. They have raised more than £1000 so far, not counting online donations. Fiona's son - and Paddy's stepson Joe, attends Five Acres. He has his own spot on the website called 'Jokes with Joe'.

There was a minute's silence for Paddy at Consett FC at the first match after his death and also a Bidding Prayer at the SVP camp on Holy Island where he'd been as a child and as an adult volunteer around 15 times.