Jim is one of rock’s great crouchers. So good in fact that you want to stick a football between his haunches and quickly assemble another ten wee Glaswegian lads for a team photograph.…

After band practice we adjourn for a few pints in The Beehive. Charlie is on flying form: "We're gonna be called The Box", he declares, his moustache flecked with creamy Guinness spume, "and people can…

I hop off the London train at Midland station, say farewell to Charlie, and head home to Mum and Dad’s house at Sheffield Lane Top. I give them a brief summary of the weekend:…

Lost my virginity and my band. Some weekend. Both events had been foreshadowed for a while, but to have experienced the ecstasy and the agony within twenty-four hours has left me both delighted and disappointed,…

Date night. I know Ava Greene from the office next door. We chanced upon (nay, jumped upon) each during a drunken session at The Limit Club a few weeks ago. It was the kind of…

“Killing Joke? It’ll be like United away at Millwall, Adrian Street versus Giant Haystacks, Jesus at Golgotha, we’ll get crucified!” Following DVA’s decent away performance at Bauhaus’ coven in the caverns under…