1975
I was in a band called Axe, based in Bristol. We were playing up the road at the Weston Super-Mare Winter Gardens, with Status Quo and Chicken Shack. I was wearing a pair of bright orange loon pants, the fashion order of the day. Cotton flared trousers with an almighty huge flare, low waiste and just two large white buttons for the fly, so it shouldn't have really come as that much of a surprise when someone in the audience called up to me, "Oi mate, yer cock's hanging out", when it actually was, and quite clearly so. Inside I was crawling with embarrasment and just wanted to disappear but I clenched my teeth, shrugged my shoulders, did a sort of pelvic thrust and carried on playing. It was at this point, I think, where I lost my ability to be embarrased anymore. Funny thing is, just two days later my knob got another public viewing. We were staying at a Holiday Inn and the staff were all having their Christmas party that night and we got invited. All I remember is that someone mentioned that the bar was free all night. The next thing I remember is waking up naked encased in a cage made from stacking chairs and tables while the hotel guests were queuing for their breakfasts at the other end of the room. When the doctor came to see me in A&E, he asked me how I had sustained so many bruises and I had to explain how a stack of chairs had fallen on top of my naked body, in a hotel restaurant full of guests. Gerrroff!! OK I'm going.
( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Thu 6 Apr 2006, 18:16, Reply)