Mal likes the herky-jerky, het-up racket we make, and offers to help out on vocals. Nothing permanent, more like a footballer going out on loan because he wants more game-time, even if it means dropping down a division.…

All the band members look terrific, a pop group from the pen of Tex Avery, decked out in McLaren and Vivien Westwood’s ‘Sun, Gold & Piracy’ look from their Worlds End shop in Chelsea. Not a swash remains unbuckled.…

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…

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,…