Rock and Roll Dreams Come True (or they don't).
I think that, within all of us, there lies a rockstar. Dormant. sleeping. Just waiting for the time when it will be awoken to take to the stage while wielding a mighty axe to lay down some thunderous licks. To revel in the attention from the groupies, the endless rounds of M&M's (NO BROWN ONES) and the private jet.

Being a rockstar would be, without a shadow of a doubt, awesome.

When I was a kid, my friend Richard and I would pretend that we were rockstars. I had received a hand-me-down record player that had a tape deck in it. Many hours had been spent sat in front of the proper stereo in the lounge, carefully transferring songs from records (and these new-fangled CDs – surely the future!) to tape.

And then it would begin.

We didn’t have a lighting rig, so the lights in the play room (yes, I was a lucky bugger) were dimmed. Furniture was pushed out of the way. The sound was cranked all the way up to 11 – and then, to the opening bars of Queen’s ‘One Vision’, the greatest rock band ever to take to the stage would enter. The crowd would go wild. As the riff kicked in, we would thrash our guitars and break the universe with our loud, perfect rock. From Queen to Led Zep. From Zep to Whitesnake. From whitesnake to AC/DC. From DC to ‘Tallica. And the crowd would go wild.

Except that our guitars were snooker cues. Our stadium was a room in a farmhouse. Our crowd was no more than an empty wall. The screams no more than a lingering imagining. We would take turns in being the front man (and I remember, even now, that I wanted to be just like Freddie Mercury. I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m not. I’d be dead, for a start...), and we resolved that one day, we would be rock GODS.

It’s now 18 years later. Sometimes, when I’m alone in the flat, I’ll slip my iPod in to my pocket, and pop the earbuds in to my ears. I’ll select some System of a Down, or Thrice, or Tenacious D, or Tool, or even (if I’m feeling fruity) some Queen. I’ll roll the volume wheel all the way to the top, take up a rock stance, and I’ll rock it til I drop it.

Or at least I did. Barely two weeks ago, I had filled Wembley Stadium, and my friends and fans were looking up to me with a mixture of awe and lust. Just as I had finished a face-melting solo, I raised my arm to take in the rapturous applause. At which point my girlfriend walked through the door.

Galaxies unfolded in the time that we were looking at each other.

“What,” she said, with barely concealed contempt “are you doing?”

I looked at the floor, kicking at it with my toe. I mumbled my response.

“What?” She said.

“Rockin’.” I replied, my bottom lip stuck out about as far as it would go. I was a 28 year old man reduced to the status of a mere boy.

I nearly collapsed under her steely gaze. And then, she smiled. “You bloody idiot!” she said, and walked off.

In my mind, the chants of “DiT! DiT!” were gradually fading, but I knew in that moment that I would never rock again. My time in the sun was over.

Until the next time that is. When I’ll be sure to lock the door.

EPILOGUE: Richard, I have just found out, works in a record shop. So at least one of us is in the music industry!
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 11:29, 10 replies)

...
Wonderfully written. I can just see your performance in all its glory (and the toe curling embarassment of being discovered)
( SteamedCleaner, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 11:50, closed)

I say dear boy,
Jolly good show. Encore!

And a clicky just for the Meatloaf reference.
(Ethelred is watching cheese grow, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 13:28, closed)

Top hole
Most entertaining
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 14:20, closed)

\oo/
Rock on sir.

Rock on indeed.
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 15:14, closed)

hehe genius
as an ex shouter in a punk band and metalhead at heart who would love to thrash out to a moshing crowd you get zee cleek!

I also have a terrible habit of singing along* to songs on my mp3 player while im at the gym.








*well butchering would be closer to the truth
(Halfy By light alone, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 16:48, closed)

Haha, this so gets a click...
*clicks*
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 16:54, closed)

* holds up lighter & waves arms *
.
( Fireflier La la la la, not listening on, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 17:25, closed)

PHWOOOOAR! DiT! DIT! DiT!
*throws bra in your general direction*

*and clicks*

*and swoons*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 17:41, closed)

Oh bless ya lovey
*clicks*

*is glad she lives alone should similar urges strike*
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Wed 16 Jul 2008, 22:58, closed)

I share your shame
The missus walked in on me disco dancing and singing 'Yes Sir, I Can Boogie' in my best Bee-Gee/Leo Sayer falsetto.

I wouldn't worry, though. Everyone does it.

Don't they?
(BuckshotLeFunk, Thu 17 Jul 2008, 13:37, closed)