Pearoast: The Night I Tried to Kidnap Peter Andre
In around 1997/8, I had used to be deputy editor of Hullfire, the Hull student newspaper; my friend Emma was editor and music editor. We spent much of our time on the phone to PR companies blagging freebies: we managed to get onto the guest list of just about every gig within travelling distance for a couple of years. Many of these gigs were amazing - some were amazing for the wrong reasons. Into the latter category goes the Viking FM-sponsored Peter Andre/ Steps/ North and South concert at Hull Ice Arena.

It was like a pre-pubescent Nuremberg rally. Emma and I made a point of getting as gothy-looking as possible, the better to scare the kids and their parents (with whom we actually ended up chatting at the back of the arena) - but the kids were scarier.

Now, in Hull there is (or was at the time: I don't know whether it's still going) a club called Spiders - a rock and indie type place that was a second home to me, Emma and our circle of friends. At the end of the concert, the night was still young, so Emma and I decided to go there. And then we noticed something.

We had our press passes in lanyards around our necks. Those passes had the magic words "ACCESS ALL AREAS" on them.

For a moment I lamented the fact that I'd not spent more time in the green room trying to get to know Faye Tozer - but it was too late for that now. What had to happen now was to find some way to exploit an all-areas pass and yet not to waste too much time that could productively be spent getting wankered at Spiders.

A plan formed.

We would kidnap Peter Andre and take him with us.

He'd love it. And at the end of the evening, we could kill him and throw him into the docks. Or something.

We headed for a door marked "PRIVATE" and went through. Noone stopped us. Very quickly, we found ourselves backstage - not only backstage, but outside a dressing room. A dressing room on the door of which was actually a gold star and the words "MR ANDRE". We opened it, bracing ourselves for an encounter with the Greasy One. We felt that what we were about to do would be comparable to the Red Brigade's kidnapping of Aldo Moro - only with pop music.

We were not yet in the dressing room proper - just a vestibule that was empty. Empty apart from two HUGE bouncers. They encouraged us to leave. We pointed at our passes - but we knew which way this was going. They encouraged us to leave again. Attempting to salvage some dignity, Emma and I looked at each other.
"We just wondered whether Peter'd like to come clubbing with us," one of us - I can't remember which - ventured.

One of the bouncers looked at us coldly. "I doubt it," he said.

He was probably right.

Chastened, we left.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 10:36, 6 replies)

I remember when you first posted this...

It was brilliantly clickworthy then...

and it still is now.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 12 Oct 2009, 11:06, closed)

Awwwww: thanks.
You've been missing from these parts for ages. We need more Flakeyness!
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 11:15, closed)

And more
posts from Mr Lake!
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 13:16, closed)

Unforgivable
Missing the chance to rid the world of Mr Andre.
Tsk tsk...
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 12:17, closed)

Oooh, Spiders
you could have filled him up with Tizers and watched him vomit his spleen out.
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 13:29, closed)

North and South!
No one ever remembers them :D they were the only boy band I actually liked (still preferred the TV show to their music though).
( Maladicta, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 17:16, closed)