Band madness...
Back in day...ahh the days....

Anyway, back in the day, I was quite the active guitarist in our 'community' and was playing in a band in a local town, and as usual got extremely pissed in the process.

The gig was our first (with this particular line-up) and was a belter - we had girls dancing on tables with their tops off, beers lined up from punters etc... (ah, gotta stop the reminiscing)

The keys player came back to my house for some more grog and as luck would have it we'd both pulled. I can't even remember the name of the girl that came back with me, but the keys player had pulled my SISTER!!!!!!

About 5am I was literally fucked, and it was all I could do to stay awake. However, the fucking noise coming from the spare room (the room with my sister in it - no, no, not that noise, it was just loud music and pissed up shouting) was really starting to grate.

In my stupor, I thought it a good idea to politely knock on the door and perhaps ask if the lovely couple could keep the noise down as we were now trying to sleep. Well, in my memory it was like that although to be honest it was probably more like "Keep that f*cking row down you f*cking cnuts"

The keys player was not too happy about being, ahem, interupted and preceded to throw a punch at me - clocking me right in the face. It smarted.

Now, I'm quite a gentle chap, but if I get hurt the red mist comes down and well, I'm sure it's the same for all blokes.

So, 30 seconds later he's on the floor protecting his head while I'm beating down on it like the Brisbane sun in a heat wave.

My sister didn't take kindly to this, and it would seem all her 'family values' had gone out the window.

Bear in mind I was only wearing boxers at this point.

Eventually, with the girl (ahh, remembered her name, Claire!) screaming "stop, stop" etc... I stood up.

I was completely soaked in claret.

Claire started screaming "ahhhhh...who's blood is that"
"Fucked if I know" replies me.

Turns out it was mine.

My sister had repeatedly been beating me in the head with a newly nicked glass ashtray from the pub.

Seriously, I was soaked in the stuff.

Didn't have a phone in those days either (and it was long before Mobiles had been 'born' into the mainstream - not having a phone was another sister related incident, strangely involving Australia as well, odd I should have mentioned Brisbane??!), so Claire (as this was her name), sprinted virtually naked to the nearest phone box to phone an ambulance.

...and thus, one did arrive in a timely fashion too.

When they arrived, the place looked like a blood bath - I had a towel wrapped around my head that was now just completely deep red in colour despite starting out in life as a new white towel.

The carpet was drenched and actually squelched as you walked on it. And my upper torso was completely covered in, now dried (and itchy) blood.

Got to the hospital eventually and had my head sewn in places and glued in the rest in a childs bed as they had run out of *real* beds for adults - maybe it was just because they realised how pissed we were.

Anyway, all was eventually fogiven and the keys player, within a year, became my brother-in-law.

I still get asked about the bald scar on my head every time I get my hair cut.
(dchurch bah, Tue 12 Aug 2008, 19:19, Reply)