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This is a question Rock and Roll Stories

My personal Spinal Tap moment came when we got locked into the Festival Hall in London by accident. We ended up wandering the maze of backstage corridors carrying a three foot high piece of cheese looking for the one door that would lead us to salvation.

What goes on tour may stay on tour, but B3ta doesn't count. Tell us everything.

(, Thu 29 Jun 2006, 13:47)
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Oxfam Glamour Models
Worst band I ever saw. They smashed a computer monitor up at the end of their gig to symbalise some sort of anti-progress message... well they tried to; they were too weedy (read indie) to accomplish it and left the stage with it intact.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 22:00, Reply)
whooliganz landed on my head
least i think thats how it is spelled....

house of pain gig ~ back in the day at newcastle mayfair...

support band was jumped up yank kids (about 12 they were and shouldnt have been on licensed premises) discovered or something by cypress hill...anyways....during the house of pain section of the gig one of the lil fookers decides to stage dive....and lands RIGHT on my head...cnut....then i feel a kick from his shoe as hes being passed forward...(sadly he didnt get dropped so we could put the boot in)

so i think...if i move my head back sharply i can headbutt him in the nuts...sadly as i was right up front...(knees still hurt from those barriers over a decade later) he got pulled out before i could get him....i dont know how but he did and i missed....

*length/girth joke*
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 21:52, Reply)
A few...
my favourite, which i still like boasting about is "I nearly had a fight with Ian brown"

Leeds 2000; wandering drunk and aimlessly around the arena, i spotted ian brown walking towards me. i couldn't help myself, next thing i knew the words "IAN YOU BIG MONKEY FUCK!" were exiting my mouth at full volume. he ran up to me, pushed me to the ground, threatened to cause me a vast amount of harm, so i upped and ran off.

shortly after that, i was at a gig in aldershot, who actually played escaped me, as did the fact i spent most of the night telling anyone i could've beaten ian brown up. the only thing i do remember is kicking the toilet door of it's hinges, the bouncers promptly throwing me out and my mate forcing me to drink numerous cups of black coffee.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 20:42, Reply)
Glasto 2000...
... and an extra 100,000 people decide to get in free. About 90% of them decide to go and see Rolf Harris.

The result? You couldn't get within two fields' distance of him.

The answer to this solution came via an angel with a loaf of bread. I snatched it off her, said "Trust me" - and waved the dough-based item aloft. Then saying the holy mantra of "Baguette for Rolf", I set forth. The now breadless maiden realised the cunning plan, and between us we blagged/confused our way forwards until we could hear and see the bearded wobble-boarder himself. WE couldn't get any closer at that point, so we made an offer to the gods of music that had helped our progress - by sending the baguette crowd-surfing to the front.

Sadly, I think security nabbed it before Rolf could eat it, damn them...
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 19:47, Reply)
Sorry for the length
I play in a band from Nottingham most accurately described in a review as "Sludge Metal Dickheads" and we've had our moments in the 5 years or so we've been together... apologies for the length as this has been amusing reminiscing!

My own crowning glory was whilst playing with Canadian metal band 3 Inches of Blood at Rock City in Nottingham, coming back into the dressing room to find their lead singer disgustedly saying "Dude, I was taking a shit and some guy was banging this chick in the shower". We hadn't realised the two adjoining rooms were connected at the top and he had heard everything!

At the Morrowfest tribute show several years ago I was being violently sick in a toilet cubicle as Mike from Eyehategod was telling me from the next cubicle "I know how you feel, man", he was so skint he was selling CDs to buy cider in the pub beforehand. It was so warm (and we'd all got so horribly drunk the night before) I felt like I'd had a stroke.

Whilst drunk after a xmas party gig I power-bombed one of our guitarists into the floor without realising it was covered in broken glass, he had to invent a story to tell his wife otherwise she would have either killed me or stopped him from playing with us again. We stole all the other bands riders that evening as well, teaching them a valuable lesson.

Drummer stories, aha... our previous drummer was a walking stereotype, turning up for a four day tour with a plastic bag containing four cans of lager, a copy of the Sun and a spare pair of pants. We had to explain what "Touche" meant to him after we'd got sick of him drinking cooking sherry on stage and falling off his drumstool all the time, the rest of the band got as drunk as was humanly possible for one gig, I had to hold a tuner pedal up to our guitarists face as he was too pissed to focus. He complained about it later and didn't understand what we were talking about when we said "Touche!" to him.

One particularly "refreshed" evening we were playing an all day gig in Nottingham, highlights included our guitarist playing one of Defenestration's guitars whilst they were on stage with his balls and I (apparently) demolished a chair when I blacked out and fell over. A member of Birmingham nutters Mistress got completely naked and crowd surfed, the staff at the pub said they found a pair of trousers the next day, he went home in the van in nothing but his leather jacket and boots that evening.

We broke Newark as well one Halloween, three Nottingham bands had travelled up to play a gig in a venue called Gustos in fancy dress. One band (whose members were Irish) were dressed in white shirts, black trousers and balaclavas as the I.R.A. which caused enough trouble, we were in bloody lab coats and black metal makeup which had been so badly applied we looked like black metal zebras. Several bottles of spirits later we had collectively broken the PA, covered the place in stickers, one of our vocalists had cracked two ribs falling into the amps and the venue from that point onwards had a strict policy of no heavy bands.

There is nothing left to put in the liner notes of our 30th anniversary reunion triple-gatefold release now, but there you go.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 18:32, Reply)
Piss Artist
I was sneaked backstage in Brixton Academy with my pal's band but with no Access All Areas pass I was stuck in the dressing room until showtime: there were security guards in the corridor outside checking everyone.

Whilst the band was off soundchecking I was in dire need of a piss but instead had to ignore it and have a half-hour conversation with Rankin Roger from The Beat about different types of hash and grass. Eventually he left and I was by this point truly desperate for a lag. The sinks in the dressing room were filled with beers and there was no bin.

I did the only thing left available to me which was arc a fountain of (by this point dark and smelly) urine out of the window - all over the guest list queue.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 17:35, Reply)
in retrospect, it was a bloody stupid idea
taking my mate Jen to the gig, no matter how much she liked the band.

Jen is severely mentally handicapped, and despite being in her 20s at the time, had the mental age of about 9. I guess we thought of her as being more able to cope with new situations than she was.

A group of us went to this gig, and my friend and I were at the front moshing. A more chilled song came on,and Jen came looking for us to ask if we wanted beers. Just as she got to us, the song kicked into the loud bit, and everyone started jumping up and down, as you do.

Jen went absolutely rigid and started to fall over. We caught hold of her and she stayed rigid as a board as we took an elbow each and dragged her away from the moshing mob.

I had to spend the rest of the evening calming her down, as she was totally freaked.

The band (Eden Burning) broke up shortly afterwards, so I never got to see them again.

ho hum.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 16:32, Reply)
It may sound
like a shameless plug but my band is the closest thing I've been involved in that actually feels it might be getting somewhere. We're rock as fuck, although I am on the brink of being thrown out because my drummer has a head the size of spain and thinks he's in charge. Check us out www.myspace.com/gunshykennedy
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 15:31, Reply)
Vipros : Lol fair enough, I prefer cunt myself however

Edit again:
Lol most of the stories we get are because we get too insanely fucked and decide to see who can be the stupidest. It just ends up really getting out of hand.

Par Example - we decided to have a fight between ourselves this weekend whilst mashed using traffic barrier bits (the red and white bars) as lightsabres which ended up in one of us going to hospital and having to have 10 stiches in the head. Which in hindsight wasnt a very good idea, he forgave us however after calling us bastards for 2 days :P.

I couldnt have a better bunch of friends though there is never a dull night, we have participated in some really out of order stuff we really regret now, but we do have consciences and have paid for any large damages to stuff.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 15:03, Reply)
H4rdcore Baz
Sounds more "wanker" than rock and roll to me

Edit: (see above) we seem to have reached an accord.

and at least you have stories to tell. I don't, despite having been in a rock band and seeing loads of gigs with rock bands...

Edit 2: although I am getting a hazy memory of masterminding the gluing of stuff to a party hosts kitchen work surfaces, and judiciously inserting pages from his porno collection into cook books for his mother to find. not particularly rock and roll though.

Edit 3: Obviously I'm not saying I have no stories, I'm no stranger to getting fucked up. I do love to smoke pot, and the camping and surfing trips are usually eventful. Plus the occasional late night ninja mission.....
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 14:59, Reply)
Rock and Roll, got nothing on me and my chums
You may have wondered why I use the handle h4rdcore baz, well thats my nickname around these parts due to the massive amount of stupid/downright idiotic stuff i've done over the years along with my bunch of merry men, rock and roll cowers in our stupid behiour might.

Notable things that have been done in the past couple of months spring to mind worthy of maybe robert plant or bonzo fame :

- Couple of weeks ago we stayed in a terrible hotel for a laugh with a couple of people. Had a lot of bugle and the room ended up with piss all over the floor, the TV with a fuck off hole in the screen, poo in the bath tub, shower robes with shit on them blocking up the toilet and we left a mug with poo in it in the corridoor. Surprisingly we didnt get fined, or at least thats what my mate said, I was found covered in my own vom out in the hallway (yeah nice I know).

- Another hotel one (yeah us lot really abuse hotels), whilst on holiday we ran down a hotel corridoor, smashed open a fire extinguisher box and proceeded to cover each other in foam to the delight of hotel owners who then confiscated our passports because we got our bumholes out to them. They had the last laugh though because we all then got fined 90 euros the next day again for a massive 1ft hole in the door (scousers wern't too happy with us) and poo on the balcony (lol dont ask, poo's pretty funny to us)

- Same holiday, on the last nite I decided to play "see how many drinks I can buy and run away from the bars" with a friend, which ended up in me being chased by the spanish police some fuck off bouncers and bar owners all looking to kill me. fuckers never found me however, I ended up hiding under a 4x4 and waking up when the owner started the engine which was shit scary.

Other noticable rock and roll moments I have had - waking up in the front of a JCB digger scoop, throwing a bottle at tim westwood's head (cunt) and some other poor sod getting thrown out and beaten up for it, being accused of robbing someones house because I fell asleep in their hedge, driving my motorbike naked down the street to get a bottle of vodka from the shop whilst totally bladdered (don't even ask me how I didnt get caught, was a mad one.....)

All this and im just coming up to my 19th birthday.....I have so more but will need to have a think tonight. There's loads more insane ones because we party like animals.

Btw, check out this lot if you like solid rock and roll...they live about 5 miles away and define rock and roll to the extreme. I have never ever seen people take partying as seriously as my lot and they are usually mashed to the the stage of no return.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 14:53, Reply)
College Fun
I was in a few bands, as vocalist, at college. Mostly shite, we did Nirvana, Rage Against The Machine and Faith No More covers, as well as some of our own material, of the bouncy, grungy metal variety. The members of all the bands were me on vocals (a strapping goth-metal mutant), Ginger Paul on Geetar (a typical bedroom guitarist), Eddie Starr on rhythm Guitar(a mental 'proper' punk), Purple on Bass (strange goth-chap, now sadly dead) and Si on Drums (odd, spaced out chap who smelled of cheap beans)

Before our first gig out of college, The Four Horses of the Apocalypse (for that was our name at that point - we were also Burnt Toast, and Ten-Inch-Screws), we proceeded to meet at college at around Nine o'clock that morning, and work our way through several bottles of white lightening. We drank ourselves sober by lunchtime, then carried on, smoking weed, and drinking more White Lightening. By gig time, we were all blotto.

As this was a college thing, there were a few bands on. In addition to the Four Horses, I was also in 'Innov-8', featuring my future wife on keyboards and vocals, and I was singing 'Mustang Sally' for them. Both our respective parents were in the audience (I was sixteen), and I proceeded to introduce the song in the only way I knew how.

"Soul doesn't come from the heart - oh, no. It comes from the FUCKING BOLLOCKS", all the while grabbing my cock and balls and waving them around, sheathed only in a thin pair of combats, gothed up with face paint and covered in chains.

After putting in an admittedly impressive performance (I do a mean Mustang Sally - you HAVE to hear it sometime!), it was the main event.

The Four Horses of the Apocalypse were headlining. We climbed up on stage, and kicked out our opener, 'Breed', made famous by Nirvana. We were awful, completely pissed, and incapable of putting on a show. Eddie was more fucked than anyone else, and he proceeded to strangle his guitar, fall over, bump into everyone, and just swear into his mic. I made a big decision there and then.

I sacked him from the band, halfway through the song.

He looked at me, to gauge my seriousness. I stared him back, a 6ft Goth squaring off against a 5ft 4 Punk, dayglo multiple mohawks peppering his head. He got the message, lifted his guitar above his head, and tried to hit me with it. He missed, and he broke it on the floor. He stormed off the stage, and proceeded to steal all the mirrors from the bathroom, before glassing a bouncer who tried to get him to stop it.

We carried on, and put on a sprawling, stumbling mess of a show. People, afterwards did declare it 'brilliant' though.

He'd forgotten all about it in the morning, but we never again played a gig together.

A few years ago, I called him though. His Mum answered, and I got fits of giggles when she shouted 'EDWARD! Phone for you darling', and he replied 'Ok, Thanks Mum'. Just imagining the little chubby punk being so polite tickled me.

Sorry for length. Actually, no I'm not. Rawr. ROCK AND ROLL!!
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 14:34, Reply)
Glastonbury '94 - still in a room without a door...
Rage Against the Machine - about midnight... After my first attempt at crowd surfing - 10 yards, landed on my head - thought it would be a great idea to get all the way to the front and then get marched out by security therefore avoiding the crowds - They'd just come on for the encore you see. I was supposed to be meeting my mate to go and see John Hegley in the arts tent or something.

So I gets boosted up and am being passed towards the front - great fun - and then I jump down over the barrier. Snap. Oh dear. Can feel my ankle has gone. Forward momentum carries me for another step and full weight goes on to now broken limb. Arrrrgh. Go down in a heap and security says 'You Alright Mate?'. So I says 'no'. Get helped backstage and sit for a while trying not to move. Rage Against The Machine have now finished and as I'm being carted off to the ambulance, the bass player wanders over and I tell him that this is all his fault... He just grins and goes 'hurrrrrrrr'.

Ah well, at least I got a big scar and interior metalwork souvenirs.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 14:31, Reply)
King Kurt
Went to see King Kurt for the umpteenth time one night at the Duchess in Leeds.
(for those who don't know, King Kurt were a psychobilly band at whose gigs people used to throw stuff - everything from Flour to a Pig's head)
I was skint & had just bought a pint with the last of my money. As I turned from the bar I was hit on the forehead by a large, dead, wet fish. It then slid down my face & dropped into my pint. Which was nice.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 14:20, Reply)
Rolling with the Big Dog...
Several years ago, I was given some free tickets to go to the Homelands festival as I had recently done some work for "Dangerous" Dave Pearce. Said tickets included passes to get backstage at the Radio 1 stage, so needless to say I spent the vast majority of the afternoon ogling Carl Cox's entourage of teutonic blondes, having a conversation with Seb Fontaine about portaloos and making the most of the bar.

We were having such a good time of it that some hours had passed before we spotted a big black GMC van parked just outside the back stage area. The van was covered in graphics of explosions and the like (and possibly "big dogs" - I honestly don't remeber) but it wasn't until we spotted the foot-and-a-half high lettering down the side that we got really excited. Yes, we had clocked the Westwood-mobile.

Half an hour and several beers later, we were trying to decide how we could sabotage the vehicle in protest at the twatty son-of-a-vicar, when my mate decided that I should go and show my respec' by pissing on his door handle.

I rush off around the corner and return a couple of minutes later with a sly grin on my face. Mate goes off to the bar to congratulate me on a mission well executed.

Did I do it? Did I bollocks. There were three enormous security guards guarding the bling wagon and I bottled it. Still, it seemed churlish to spoil the fun for my mate...

Apologies for length and girth - in fact perhaps that's why I was less than inclined to show it to the securty guards...
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 13:58, Reply)
Napalm Death - not me but...
I went to see Napalm Death with my pal Tim when we were about 15. We drank thermos flasks of mixed parents'-drinks-cabinet booze on the way there, and as the show kicked off Tim promptly spewed his guts up.
All over the mixing desk. \m/
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 13:26, Reply)
I nicked his weed from his dressing room whilst he was DJing in the Cork Opera House. The Matrix-style long leather coat wearing bell-end.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 13:17, Reply)
Kingmaker ...
played a hall party while I was at Nottingham Uni. At the time myself and a friend were involved in the student radio station, and Alex (sod changing names) grabbed a tape recorder (this was a while ago) and we strolled into Kingmakers dressing room after their set with the vague idea of interviewing them.

Alex sets the stuff up, grabs one of the guys standing around and starts.

"This is Alex Jones, reporting for URN, backstage with Kingmaker. With me is ..."

"John" supplies the bemused interviewee.

"Great John, and what do you do in the band?"

"I don't, I hang around trying to get my t-shirt signed by them"

Fortunately, Kingmaker saw the funny side and did grant him an interview despite being a bit put out. Alex starts with ...

"I don't really like you, but that performance was great"


My mum also claims to have sold Lemmy a cream cake. This may be true, as they were playing locally at the time, but given my mothers low grade insanity (it affects all mothers I think), it was probably just some bloke with long hair.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 13:11, Reply)
You either love him or hate him...
Yes, I have been in a band but never really had any truly “Rock and Roll” experiences (apart from a Derek Smalls incident at Nice airport…). However, I will relate the experiences of one of my best mates who for a while was in one of the few rock bands on the small island that we call Jersey. Now this was back in the 80s and Ade and his band had been booked to play a small pub in one of the numerous fishing villages in the area. They turned up early in the afternoon to perform a sound check then sat down to do what all good rock bands do before performing i.e. get royally ratted.

However, before they could start, the door to the pub banged open and in walked a large, burly man who immediately yelled at the landlord, “Turn that fucking jukebox off! You don’t need that anymore! I’m here! I’m all the entertainment you need!”

Yes, it was the man. The legend. It was Oliver Reed.

Ollie, already clearly a little sozzled, found out that there was going to be a rock band playing and insisted on buying them a drink. He’s shown to their table where he proceeds to buy then a round. “So you’re the band are you!? What kind of fucking shit are you going to be playing for us then!?”

After the first round, he gets the second. And the third. And the forth. In fact, he gets every single round of the afternoon. No-one could match him. He would have drunk his pint while the band were barely starting theirs. If anyone dared to get up to get the next round he would shout at them, “Put that fucking wallet away you fucking cock! You’re too fucking slow! I’ll get them in!”

And true to his word, he did, every single time. By the time the band came to play, they were absolutely paralytic. Ollie though, was barely affected, still knocking back the pints without them even touching the sides. Before the band went on though, Ollie had to wave goodbye.

“Sorry I can’t stick around to see you play boys, I’ve got to fly to London to be on some fucking talk show!” And with that, he left, leaving Ade and his band to fuddle their way through their set barely able to see straight.

So midnight comes and the band stagger off back to one of their homes where they crash out with more beer and food. As they are popping them open, one of them turns on the telly.

“Come here! Now! Come here! It’s him!” he shouts, prompting everyone to crowd around the TV which appears to be showing some late night discussion program. And sure enough, there he is, wearing exactly the same clothes as he had on in the pub. There’s Ollie, late night on Channel 4, clearly pissed out of his gourd. They had turned the telly on just in time to see him turn to the resident po-faced feminist and say, “Frankly dear, what you need is a big hard COCK!” A turn of events that would see him barred from telly for several years. Some of you may even remember it if you’re old enough.

So here’s to Oliver Reed, far more Rock and Roll than most of us could ever wish to be. Peace.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 13:07, Reply)
erm, a pop story..
I went to see Micheal Jackson (before all his troubles) live at Wembley with my (then) Girlfriend. Not sure what we did that was so offensive, but Andi Peters (he of BBC Chidrens TV fame) gave us a hell of a dirty look..
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 12:45, Reply)
Glastonbury 1999
I remember watching the Manic Street Preachers (Not very rock n roll I know) when they had to leave the stage mid-way through their set because the people in the front twenty or so rows (where I was) were getting crushed from the crowd pouring in from behind.

This poor short lass next to me is crying because she thinks she's going to die. The lad next to me helps me pick her up so she can crowd surf to safety, but what's this? Her shoe has fallen off! This guy next to me picks it up and looks at me. I shrug, he shrugs, then pitches it after the girl who takes it full in the face. This prompts a guy not too far away to lob an open bottle of piss at the stage.

I still remember the screams! I crowd surfed out of there too and went to get a beer. Anamusing time all round.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 12:42, Reply)
Big Green Rockfest
Well I'm playing at the Big Green Gathering in August and I'm lending Van Morrison's Daughter's Drummer my Drumkit. Rock On!
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 12:41, Reply)
Nearly got caught in a fight
Some time ago, me and my friend were at the Colston hall to see motorhead, who were being suppurted by sepultura. Of course, these bands were a very different breed to each other, and so were some of the fans. At the front, we discovered a lanky skin head, seeming off his face on something or other, lunging about and shoving everyone around him. Behind us loomed a brick outhouse, built from denim, leather and beard. The gimp in front zeroed in on him with mad blood shot eyes and starts to hassle him. Me and my friend of course are stuck between the pair, as the mountain behind us starts getting upset. As I see the veins start to bulge in his knuckles I realise I'm going to die in the ensuing riot before the show has even started.

Thankfully the security staff intervened and carted the offender away. The biker behind us? He gave us a leg up for the crowd surfing. Excellent.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 11:52, Reply)
Brian Feary and the Flat 3 Porn Rockers
may or may not have been the name of one of my side-projects back in the days of uni. Of course, being the young and naive rock star I still find myself to be when things get quiet and I reflect on my past, things had a tendency to get out of control. In a sexual manner. The band lineup consisted of me, on vocals, guitar, bass, drums and supple moist noises. My other flatmates, who crowded around to find what the commotion was all about one day after an intense recording session, found themselves sucked into a world of sleaze and porno fantasy. The Band was Formed. The Love was Felt. The sex gods smiled down upon us that day. We would change the Face of Flat 3, FOREVER.

We re-enacted porno movie sounds and put them to insatiable indie-rock grooves. We covered each other in vaseline and slapped our bodies together to make faux-rock beats. We immersed ourselves in a world of porn that only we could appreciate. We recorded a song. Only one song, but enough to prove that the whole thing existed.

It’s called, “Flat 3 Porn Rock”. And you can listen to it. For proof.

I thank you.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 11:49, Reply)
I shagged Paula Abdul in a dream once.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 11:39, Reply)
Donnington '95
Metallica did an 'Escape from the Studio' tour with about 8 or 9 other bands - basically Monsters of Rock but without the name... Slayer, Skid Row, Machine Head, Therapy?, etc... i digress

Anyways, i got their for 10:30am-ish.. straight to the mosh pit at the front and INSTANTLY on my first leap into the air, someone came down on my flimsy trainer and ripped the sole off! i spent the next 12 hours or so, at the front, with just the upper part of my Air Max flapping about and EVERY single one of the 80,000 mentalists that were there, landed on my foot atleast once during that time... barstewards...

Going for a slash was fun, over the gravel and thru the rivers of shite - HOWEVER - 'Slash's Snakepit' the band WERE shit... Skid Row were AWESOME!

So, i got home 1.5 Air Max's left, covered in piss and a foot that looked like an alien extra from Star Wars - but my program i had bought was in PERFECT condition. phew!
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 10:41, Reply)
How + Why
Not me but my slightly "off" sister.

She came home one night from one of the clubs in Liverpool (might have been the Liverpool BarFly) to show me her latest victory.

She had somehow managed to rob the following items from the poor indy band that were playing there that night:
1 of the 2 drumsticks
A slightly nibbled guitar pick
A length of some black cable
The handle off the top of an amp
The sheet of card that says what songs the band is going to play and in what order.

The sheet of card is now on her bandroom wall and in my opinion is the best salvaged item because it was heavily sellotaped to the stage-floor.
Hopefully the drummer can perform with 1 drumstick and ... i don't know... a spoon.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 9:34, Reply)
Not me, but my Dad
He lived in Manchester for a bit at the end of the late 70's, and was a big fan of Cream (for you younguns, Eric Clapton's old band). Anyway, the drummer - Ginger Baker - went on to form his own band called something like "Ginger Baker and the Nutters". Anyway, the lead singer was ill for the concert, and Eric Clapton had to fill in.

There was only 6 people at the gig, one of them was Scottish Gravedigger Rod Stewart.

Being the kind bloke he is, he bought the 6 people at the gig a pint.

Being the arsehole that is my dad, he poured it over him and twatted him in the face.

Rod Stewart then completely battered my dad, which - to this day - I find funny.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 9:26, Reply)
David and Goliath
Slightly off topic but involving rock, and a sock. Names changed to protect the
involved, and because I can't remember them.

Once upon a time in Nottingham Rock City there was a drunken punter named David
and a surly bouncer named Goliath. Now David must have looked at Goliath in the
wrong way or made comments about his mother or been wearing the wrong shoes or
something, because Goliath decided to knock David unconcious, totally ruining
his night.

When he recovered from his ordeal, David planned his revenge.
A week or so later Goliath was again guarding the doors to rock city, jostling
gig-goers and grabbing meaty handfulls of underage girl's girly bits. So our
hero cooly walked into the scream bar on the corner, removed a sock and filled
it with 2 pool balls then secreted the sock sling in his pocket and marched off
to confront Goliath.

"Oi Goliath! Remember me?" David demanded, jabbing the bouncer in the chest.
"Yeah. You're that little cnut I sparked out last week." came Goliath's
"Yeah? Well remember this!"
Faster than greased lightning David grabbed his pool ball sock sling and swung
with all his might at the bouncer's head and...

Gently patted the giant bouncer's cheek with a wooly sock.
David had held
the wrong end of his cosh and the balls had fallen out into his pocket.

Now I'm sure most of you have experienced that moment of panic when your pupils
dilate, you exhale and inhale at the same time and you freeze just after you've
done something incredibly stupid and dangerous and your brain is frantically
trying to figure out a solution to your stupidity. Then all of a sudden there is
that moment of clarity when you calm down and realise exactly what to do, well
this was one of those moments. David knew exactly what he had to do, it was...

Hit Goliath again with the sock! Hit the giant violent bouncer again and again
with the woolen sock until he was dead.
David withdrew his sock from Goliath's growling mug and pulled his arm back for
another wallop and....

Woke up in hospital for the 2nd weekend running.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 9:12, Reply)
Another thing. Was at the rock night at The Bierkeller, Bristol bout 3 months ago, when a member of the Secret Machines, who were playing that night, took quite unkindly to me asking him to stop throwing his weight around the dance floor and split my head open with a beer bottle.

If I ever run into the weasel faced little cunt again, he won't be playing any whiney, piss poor bore-fest music for along time. If at all.
(, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 9:01, Reply)

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