So Many
In a past life I used to work as a lighting tech for bands and have many, many tales of those days (dancing with Barbara Bach, asking Jayne Seymour for a blowjob, having Billy Connolly ask me if I really enjoyed drinking as I was throwing my ring up and more) but this story is about a gig at Manchester Uni.

In the 80's a punk called Johnny Stack was running the events at Manchester Uni. He was an unmitigated disaster as he was always booking bands he loved at exorbitant fees who nobody had ever heard of. The Events Crew was going bankrupt fast. But he did have one notable success - he booked Curiosity Killed The Cat before they were famous and they were due to play the Union in the week when they were number 1.

Well the kiddies of the North West turned out in droves. We oversold the gig by about three times what the fire limit was and had to draft in all sorts of extra security, crash barriers etc.

During the gig I was in charge of onstage security which meant that I was standing just to the side of the PA stacks watching the crowd. The crowd was a mad pulsating thing, surging backwards and forwards and, inevitably, some poor sod would lose their footing and disappear under the feet of the seething mass. When I saw someone go down I'd whistle (I've a fucking loud whistle) and point where someone had went under and a couple of bouncers would jump into the crowd and haul the unfortunate to their feet. Real adrenaline pumping stuff.

Anyway, about halfway through the gig I heard a cheer and saw some random bloke, on stage, with his arm around the lead singer. He'd grabbed the microphone and was bellowing out the words to the bands hit. Well this wasn't fucking on! How the hell did they get past security?

Galvanised into action I ran across the stage, grabbed the offender and rapped a nerve in his wrist. The mike fell and the lead singer got it and I grabbed the offender by the arse and collar and with a quick run, hurled him into the crowd. He sailed forward and landed head-first and then slowly sank so that only his feet could be seen waving frantically in the mob. Funny as fuck.

Job done, I retired to my perch on the PA stacks and the gig went on. At the end of the gig I went backstage to see the band and when I got into their dressing room, sitting there was this poor bastard who I'd chucked into the crowd. His face was a mess where the crowd had trampled him. Black and blue with a really puffy split lip. Turned out he was one of the friends of the band and his participation on stage was part of the act.

Oops!
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 2 Dec 2005, 11:44, Reply)