Every now and then I say or do
something that when viewed from the outside looks a ridiculous thing to have done,
stupid even. Examples range from; influencing
the Mormon girl in Canada to change from a bible basher who’d never smoked, never
drank alcohol nor (and even worse) even had sex; into a nymphomaniac, beer
swilling, 20 a day Marlboro smoker, much to the horror of her mother. To smart mouthing senior NCO’s and colleagues
in the Army and for my cheek, receiving fines (over £400), ROP’s and the
occasional punch or pinch just because I thought I was funny! It took a long time before I realised that I
was the only one being punished for what I thought was entertaining them. Only just recently at Sapperfest2012 I met up
with Garry Judd who was my dormitory Apprentice L/Cpl at Chepstow. Sitting with John Moss (Wingnut), Garry and I
were joined by two other Sappers who I’d never met and over a few beers we all
recalled days gone by. One of the others
mentioned something that was obviously worthy of a smart mouth retort and I unconsciously
made remarks that whilst hilarious to Garry, John and the rest, could have been
taken in quite the opposite way, resulting in a slap at the very least. Having recovered his composure Garry said that
that was my problem in the Army; I was too quick a wit and a smart mouth and
those in authority did not know how to deal with me hence my deplorable record
of fines and ROP’s.
So sitting in the dressing room in
Ricks Place with hoards of the Fifth Estate milling around outside all at my
behest so to speak I was in quite a privileged position. But whilst sipping Champagne and laughing
with my friends at how events had unfolded so far, a small niggling thought
started pecking its way into my mind, a “Woodpecker of a thought”, if you
will. Barely noticeable at first its
constant peck, peck, pecking eventually made its self noticed and formulated
into the dreaded “Fathers Political Influence Thought”, wherein anyone under
its guidance makes decisions based upon a wholly idiotic basis that their
fathers political leanings meant more than any rationale as to their future
prospects in life! I’m a Labour (Socialist) boy blindly
following my Dad’s influence, who was a Union man. He was a Labour Party member until he died in
1979 aged 53 and I felt, (still feel to some extent), it my birth-right to
follow his lead, to vote Labour and resist the influences of Capital C Conservatism
on my life. I’m not anti-capitalist; my
father worked for a multi-national company and I have too; its simply that I
have been influenced by my Father and never having had the chance to debate with
him I am stuck frozen in time and following his left leaning legacy by default.
Thus events played out as follows,
when one of my friends knocked on the door and came in to say that the press
wanted to interview me. (Peck, peck,
peck). I asked him, “What newspapers are
out there?” My friends all quietened
down and looked intrigued as he answered, “The Sun, The Express, The Mail, The
Star plus the Evening News, EDP (Eastern Daily Press) and The Advertiser
(Norwich free newspaper)”. Impressed by
such a great turnout with four national and 3 local papers plus their
photographers, additional hangers on and a large crowd as well (Peck, peck,
peck); “Anyone from the Daily Mirror?” I replied. “No, just those I said mate,” came the
response.
In 1988, all four of the national
newspapers in attendance that night leaned toward, (in fact were horizontally
on favour of) Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative Government and The Daily Mirror,
(who weren’t there), was and has been a continual supporter of the “Left” or
Labour Party and I felt it only right and proper that any interview should be
given to the newspaper that gave its allegiance to the Labour Party. Dad would
be proud!! (Peck, peck, peck) “Go and
find the Daily Mirror guy,” I said, “There has to be someone here from the
Mirror if the others have come”. He
turned and headed off to search the club for the Mirror Journalist but without
any luck. “Nah, there’s no one here from
the Mirror George” he said returning with a full pint of lager in his
fist. I knew he’d only gone to the bar,
ordered a beer and asked the barman if anyone from the Mirror was in and then
returned. It was then that the Woodpecker
thought named “Fathers Political influence” finally pecked its way into my
consciousness and dredging up those long held beliefs from the Amygdala region (memory
retention centre) of my brain prompted me to say, “Fuck’em, I am not talking to
the Tory rags, I’ll only speak to the Mirror” and that was that. I refused to allow anyone from the press to
have an interview.
How stupid was that!
After all the hard work we’d all put in to
that night, the deepest latent memories and emotions had pecked their way into
the present to screw it up. My friends
and the management team at Rick’s Place must have thought I was mad but I just
couldn’t bring myself to speak to them and it was all down to the subtle
indoctrination in my youth. So the press
stayed firmly outside the door and I stuck to my beliefs, moreover my father’s
beliefs. I think he would have been
livid with me had he been alive at the time and would have said something along
the lines of. “it’s not selling yourself out, you’re using them to improve your
chances of success. How often will you
convince the major papers of the day to turn up to a gig and report on it and on
the fact you have tricked them into it? Stop
being an idiot and talk to them, you need them, they don’t need you!” But he wasn’t there and I didn’t talk to them
and I remained a legend in my own lunchtime……………………………
 |
| This shot was taken in Ibiza in 1989 - but you get the general idea |
There was however a gig to do so
I asked the boys to move out so the dancers and I could have a final chat and
set ourselves for the stage. The DJ came
backstage and asked us if we were ready saying that the press were still out
there and the photographers had set themselves up in front of the stage. This last comment warmed my heart, pleased
that we at least had an audience to perform to as the DJ went out and
introduced me as the night’s special guest and we walked onto stage. The guitar intro to ‘Faith’ rang loud across
the room as we started dancing around each other, my voice hit the notes and I
sang my heart out. For “I’m Your Man’, we
performed as if I was after one of the girls and intently focused on following
her around the stage then becoming distracted as the other dancer crossed my
path, diverting my attention again and again.
For ‘Father Figure’, I acted as though I was devoted to one of the
dancers with the other acting out a cupid role bringing us together. The song closed with me giving one dancer a
long lingering kiss and the other was draped at my feet.
The applause was long and loud
and throughout the set the flash bulbs had been going off constantly. As we moved off stage one of the photographers
approached us and took close ups and we posed together the rest of the
photographers joining in. Instead of
going to the dressing room I stood outside with the dancers and reporters came
over and asked questions; who was I? And why I had decided to do the gig? I was so wrapped up in the event that I
forgot my previous motives for not talking to them and answered their
questions. We moved towards the bar and
my friends and the audience in general came over many back slapping me and
congratulating the girls on their dancing, it felt good! We stood at the bar and continued answering
questions and it was only after a few drinks that I realised that the reporters
we were actually talking to who’d shown any interest were the local press as
the Nationals had left as soon as the gig finished! The photographers were all working for the
local papers and not connected to the National press; I suppose they could try
and sell the pictures to them if they felt there was a story in them but I had
dropped the ball (or a bollock if you want to out it that way), there was no
National publicity coming my way!
The night carried on with the
club playing R&B tracks and I danced with the girls and my friends between
stops at the bar for refreshments. I also
sang ‘Kissing a Fool’ at the end of the night to a quickly emptying club. The photographer who’d approached us as soon
as we got off stage came over again and asked whether I wanted to give him a
one to one interview to which I agreed figuring there was something to rescue
from the night. We moved towards the
rear of the club away from the dance floor and sat in a corner by a corridor
that led to the toilets! I gave the guy
a full interview going over my motivation, background and inspirations, plans
for the future etc. All the detail I
should have been giving to the National Papers.
He then told me he was working for the Norwich Advertiser newspaper, a
freebie that came through front doors on a Thursday. It consisted of a few pages of local news
from that week and columns of free-ads selling everything from car parts
through to kitchen white goods and pets!
I had hit the big time at last…………..
Once
the interview was over Mark Brennan came to speak to me and said that he was
due to launch a new club in Reading in January and did I want to help on the
opening night. Rather than sing he said
that he wanted to me to be “George on a night out, opening a friends club”, I
would sit in the VIP area and meet clubbers throughout the night. I said I would do it and we agreed to meet
later in the week to discuss the detail.
A few days later the Advertiser fell through the letterbox and I was on
the front page, a picture of me singing on stage alongside the interview I had
given to the reporter/photographer. It
had been a success of sorts, if only my Dad had not gotten in the way, it would
have been even better……………
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