Time to turn things round..

Once upon a time..

..I was a rock band manager, and here's the proof..

Yep, that's me surrounded by the ever-so appreciative of my management skills, the adorable, quixotic, anarcho-syndicalist crusty funk monsters, The Thunderdogs.

That iconic wall behind us is the boundary wall of Christiania, the self-proclaimed anarchist free-state in Copenhagen. This huge ex-naval base was first squatted in 1971 and the community has been there ever since. We stayed there during our Danish tour around 1993/4 (can't quite remember, it's a bit of a blur), in a wooden house built entirely without nails in the shape of a banana.. called, appropriately enough, the bananahuset..

I had one of THE craziest nights of my life in this funny little place..

After our last gig I finally succumbed to this strange British outcast Kenny and his infamous chillum. The rest of the band had already been Kennyed and feeling that it was safe to let my hair down at last, after what had been a pretty hair-raising tour, I lay against the back-stage wall and took a walloping great lungful... and then my head exploded. It felt like my third-eye had been split open with an axe and I descended into dope-hell. I had the entire tour takings in my pocket and this huge wad of money turned into a fiery snake-like thing that I had to get rid of, immediately. I tried to stuff the wad into my best mate and lead singer Tone's hands, but he had no idea what was going on and tried to give it back to me. But by now I was stricken with horror and there was no turning back. Picture the scene if you can, the two of us shoving each other around, banknotes flying as the rest of the backstage party scrambled to grab the money and mostly try and shove it back in my pocket. Within moments this surreal scene became too much for me to bear and with a yelp I ran out into the cold Copenhagen night.

Pinballing off lumbering drunken Vikings, I desperately tried to find my way back to the Banana House through the wild darkness, but somehow I got caught up in a hedge and spent frantic minutes trying to disentangle myself from this gargantuan beast. At last I broke free and sprinted across the wasteland towards our funny wooden home.

I slammed the door behind me and bolted it, convinced there were hellhounds, or worse, on my tail. I dashed upstairs and flung myself on my bed, trying to calm my ragged breathing. The only person still in the house was Nut, our photographer, and sensing my distress, she came and sat by me, soothing my fevered brow and telling me everything was okay. And I did begin to feel all right, until she turned her head.. and revealed the half of her face that had been in shadow until now. She had covered it with these Maori-like black swirls. In my uber-stoned state, I thought she was some kind of soul-stealing demon. I screamed in terror as poor Nut tried to hold me down. At this point I looked up and saw a distant red light through the upstairs window, and suddenly it all dawned on me with horror: I was still inside my mother's womb. The whole of my life up till now had been one long twisted dream, and the horrible reality was that I had yet to be born into this hell-world. The red-light was the only way out, the exit from the womb, my mother's pulsing vulva.. and it was just too much for me!
"Cut me out! Cut me out!" I screamed.
Nut dashed for the phone and amazingly managed to get hold of Tone back at the gig.
"He's gone mad!" she gasped "You've got to get over here now!"
Somehow the boys made it back in record time. I was a gibbering wreck. Tone grabbed me and began to shovel sugar and rescue remedy into my mouth. Incredibly, within moments, I was back. I had just been about to disappear up a flowing river made of Shiva's hair, but the sugar assault had worked its magic. I stared round the room at my shocked friends. They had seriously thought they were going to have to call the men in white coats. I smiled weakly.
"Er, hi guys.. I think I'm okay now.." I grinned, and then I collapsed on the floor.

And that, my friends, is but one extract from that insane tour. Maybe I should write a book about it. It makes Spinal Tap look positively tame...

Laters dudes..