“We were strangers For way too long.” “Where will it end? Where will it end?” “Here are the young men The weight on their shoulders.” And here is a young man for whom the lyrics…

A white, long sleeved jersey, with six uninterrupted emerald green hoops. My first replica football kit. No number to indicate the player or position (even aged eight, this is aesthetically important to me); instead there…

Gig poster courtesy of Simon Dell. “Reagan’s president elect Fascist god in motion… Brothers, sisters, we don’t need this fascist groove thang.” Sheffield friends Heaven 17 have just released ‘(We Don’t Need…

Sunday afternoon, a car crash, at the junction of Belgrave Road and Warwick Gardens. There are shouts, a crumpled thud as traffic island halts Ford, and a loud smack as I head-butt the windscreen. Hard…

Pity poor Tracey Evans, the object of my affection, as she arrives to work to find another token of my ardour on her desk. Here’s my debut album. “You don’t have a record…

A Thursday night in The Bee Hive pub at the top of West Street. I’m here with band-mate Charlie Collins, Richard Kirk and his girlfriend Lynn Clarke. This is their local, being just a…