A drab, grey plastic mould chair, scuffed black metal legs akimbo, spins through the air above the ready-rubbed tobacco floor - an unhinged Apollo lunar lander in search of its own Sea Of Tranquillity. Its…

The Hallcar Tavern, Pitsmoor. It’s a Sunday evening in the middle of October, and I’m savouring a legal pint of best bitter; having reached my 18th birthday just a couple of weeks earlier.…

Firth Park Comprehensive School, the Brushes Building. It’s a July afternoon near the end of term, and lessons are over for the day. I’m in the music room, sitting behind a drum kit.…

Vinner throws the best parties. Like a junior Jay Gatsby, he holds court at his parents’ lofty Victorian house in Burngreave. We’re a largely well brought up, well behaved bunch. No-one takes drugs,…

“Wilma, what’s this song called?” “Spanish Stroll.” “So why are you singing it in French?” “I don’t understand what he’s saying in Spanish, summat about rose eater, take care oh.” “What are…

9 Across. Frank Zappa’s got one (10). Above my head, ten thousand tiny mice tap-dance on the tin roof. It’s raining again. I’m in a four-berth caravan, hunched over the…