The tale of the musician turned actor
In my last year at college I moved house and ended up sharing a very large flat with an assorted bunch of people.

There was Rachel and Sarah, two sisters (the eldest of whom, Sarah, I'd been in the same class at school with) who shared the largest room in the house; Rachel also happened to be in my year studying graphics. There was Cocky (see previous post), a scary-looking but really soft-as-shite mega Goth with a pet rat. There was my mate Sean, who had fallen a bit on hard times and who was lying on a mattress in my room (the smallest in the bloody flat; I had to climb over him if I needed a piss in the night).

And upstairs, there was Rob, and his then gf.

Rob was a talented bass player in a local band that was cited by NME to be the next big thing. Probably the pinnacle of their career was supporting Fugazi at Newcastle's Riverside (RIP), along with Stick the Pig. His band were pretty good, to be honest, but things fell apart not long after. I eventually moved out, and never saw Rob again.

Until one Christmas day, when, full to bursting point, the family sat around the telly waiting for the festive (read *miserable*) edition of Eastenders. My exe's family were big soap fans, and as we were guests who had just been rather splendidly fed, we didn't argue.

This was around the time that poor old gullible Arthur Fowler had been royally set up by his supposed best mate and convicted of fraud. Following the Christmas club incident, who, frankly, could have blamed the rozzers? Certainly not the scriptwriters.

We sat, transfixed as poor Arthur got to grips with life in a prison cell on Christmas day, complaining bitterly about his lot in life.

His cell mate wasn't impressed. And then it dawned. Despite the fact that his cell mate was facing the wall, his voice was eerily familar... then he turned over.

"Fuck me! It's Rob" me and my ex exclaimed in perfect unison.

"I used to live with him", I explained, semi-proudly. Who'd have thought?

He turned up a few months later as a wrong 'un on The Bill.

It seems that he got fed up with the rapid typecasting as a Geordie con, and returned to his home town to resume a career as a music teacher. And I bump into him from time to time.

He still hasn't lived the 'Arthur Fowler's cell mate' tag down though.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 27 Feb 2009, 20:13, 3 replies)

The NME...

Our band was hailed as the next best thing by the NME...I believe they say that about something like 19 bands a week as a generic statement to cover their inadequacy

\is still bitter

Great story though...*click*
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 27 Feb 2009, 21:51, closed)

I wonder
who the Daddy was in that cell?
(Rsoles, Mon 2 Mar 2009, 15:26, closed)

Oh, Arthur
Definitely Arthur...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Tue 3 Mar 2009, 0:07, closed)