My Exciting Life In ROCK (part 1): 19/7/2000 - Cable Radio, Brighton

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When I was a younger man I had a rather DELICIOUS problem: how to use up my annual leave? In those days, when I was EXTREMELY single, I never went on proper holidays as I was too scared to go on a normal holiday on my own, and FAR too scared to go on an 18-30 or something, so ended up having a lot of time off in September when our Annual Leave year ended. In 2000 I decided to take preventative measures and have myself a whole week off in July, when it would at least be sunny, to undertake some actions of ROCK.

I had a LOVELY time - some days I'd simply get up late and do some recording before wandering off to the pub, other days I'd go out and DO things, and this was one of them. The plan was to get an early-ish train down to London, potter around in some GALLERIES (yes, POTTERING in GALLERIES - that's the sort of incredibly sophisticated things I DO) for five or ten minutes, pop to the pub for a couple of sophisticated lunchtime BEERS, a few more sophisticated BEERS, maybe another, and then ZAP down to Brighton to dip my toes in the sea before doing a radio session. A DELIGHTFUL plan.

Things went awry from an early stage - I blame this almost entirely on the iniquity of the British Rail Service and only partly on the fact I stayed in bed for too long and ended up watching daytime telly. Still, I got to London around lunchtime and BRAVELY sacrificed my trip to the GALLERIES (it HURT my dears, but it had to be done) and downgraded lunch to two pints. BRAVE.

Even THIS severely curtailed booze-up was prevented by TERRORISTS - I think it might even have been the IRA, but surely that was about 200 years ago? It was definitely homegrown terrorists anyway, as this was a long time before 9/11 - is it me, or does anyone else get a warmly nostalgic GLOW thinking about the Irish Terrorists, of either hue? Oh, those balaclavas! So retro! Anyway, it was all going off because it was The Queen Mother's Birthday Parade - ooh, it's like a historical theme park isn't it? Queen Mothers, the IRA, look, here comes TV's Noel Gallagher drinking an Alcopop! - so most of the tube network had been shut down by threats and fears of same and I ended up TRUDGING across town to get to London Bridge station. Here I had to wait on the platform for 45 minutes as train after train came by that was TOO PACKED for me to even get on. We're not talking about a simple lack of seating here, it was a WALL of HUMAN FLESH, RAMMED in so tightly you could hear fat OOZING out of the sides of the doors. When I DID get aboard I had to stand at a funny angle for the whole journey (FEEL MY PAIN), which took TWO HOURS longer than usual.

When I FINALLY emerged with a cricked neck, wonky knee and intimate knowledge of the man next door's armpit I had to abandon toe-dipping and LEAP into a taxi to get over to the studio. As with nearly all of the radio stations prepared to let me onto their airwaves it wasn't really a MAJOR outlet for news and views, but at least this one had an actual radio transmitter and broadcast further than the end of the corridor. It was still very much a "community" station - I've don't think I've ever met anyone who actually LISTENS to Community Radio, but the people who DO it are always lovely, which was very much the case this time. Me and Melita, who ran the show, had an HILARIOUS half hour of chat and singing before I had to LEAP into another taxi to DASH back for the last train home. As we headed North I remember thinking how pleased I was with the cutting wit of humorous discourse and high level discussion we'd indulged in.

Imagine my disappointment, then, when I got home to listen to the tape of the evening and found out that someone had replaced ALL my waspish satire and devastating critical statements with ONE OF THE WURZELS! Where there SHOULD have been delicious chit chat of the most exquisite taste there was some berk saying "OI BE IN A BAND I BE! HUR HUR HUR! SEE MOI TRACTOR!"

Why does that KEEP happening?!?

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