"Where are
all the others" I asked Den
"There all over the place, we've had a right battle with these
local nutters" Den replied
"We had to knock the crap out of some of them to keep them from
totally invading the stage"
"I can see that, there's hundreds of them building up out the
front"
With that, we decided to have a round up and get our shit together to
escape. There was no way that we could fight our way through the front
and no way that these crazy fuckers were going to just let us walk away.
We had to come up with a plan and fast. I suggested that a couple of us,
who had not been involved in the fighting at the front of the stage, try
and slip through the crowd and get the vans around to the back of the
venue and try and make a quick exit with as little defending to do as
possible. One of the Stranglers management at the time was a guy called
Dai Davies; he volunteered to go so I felt I'd better go too. Dai was a
tough old Welshman himself, but he wasn't crazy either. Neither of us
could be directly identified as having dished out any violence so we had
a beer, plucked up a bit of courage and headed toward the bolted doors
that had protected us from the baying mob, that led out to the
auditorium. This side of the doors and just holding on to his sanity was
a big burly, local Welsh security guard.
" Your not going out there are you boyo's," he sang in his
delightful accent.
"They'll fucking murder you out there"
Dai looked at me and I looked at Dai
"Open the door as quietly and as slowly as you can," said Dai
" It's not opening it that worries me," chirped the security
guard
"It's getting the bloody thing closed again that's going to be the
problem" his face was a picture of honest terror.
"I'd better get a few more boys down here to get behind it and
shove it closed, I don't fancy you luck" he said
The guard got on his radio and five or six reinforcements arrived.
Standing altogether by the front stage door they looked like the front
row of a rugby team. I felt small, weedy and insignificant in their
midst (and I'm 6ft) and wished like fuck that they were all coming with
us. We prepared ourselves and the door was duly opened. It was like
crashing stone cold sober into the maddest party that you have ever been
to, unwanted and uninvited we found ourselves in the seething midst of a
stinking drunken baying mob who wanted to know who was coming out of the
doors. There were screams and shouts and general abuse as we tried to
push our way through the sweating bodies. Dai was ahead of me and he
manfully kept moving, doing a couple of rugby 'hand offs' of his own. Me
being younger and looking less like management and more like a Finchley
Boy received a few kicks and a few slaps just in case I was. It felt
like hours passed wading through to the back of this sordid crowd, but
all of a sudden Dai and I were outside into that freezing cold air once
again. Dai had to go in the opposite direction to get his van so we said
good luck, agreed where to meet up again and split. I felt a little bit
more anonymous now I was outside the venue and every yard that took me
away from it lessened the chance of getting 'jumped.'
Then there it was, Steve's wonderful blue Bedford van, the one that got
us here more dead than alive and the little beauty that was going to
freeze our bollocks off all the way home.
I put the key into the drivers door lock and attempted to slide the door
open. The considerable condensation that we had created on the way up
seemed to have contributed to the fact that the door had frozen stiff.
"Fuck it" I remember saying as I went round to the passenger
door
"Fuck you, you pox ridden cunt" I mouthed quietly
"Open you bastard" I screamed.
In my temper I managed to rip the door open, jump across to the drivers
seat and offer a warning to the van
"Start first time you cunt or I'll kick the shit out of you" I
pulled out the choke and turned the ignition key. The engine turned over
with a dreaded wur wur wur that denoted that the battery was almost flat
"I fucking knew it," I screamed inside the van
I quickly switched off the ignition and waited for a few seconds then
tried again. I turned the key so hard in a futile subconscious attempt
to force the engine to explode into life that I almost snapped it off. I
willed the thing to start. That dreaded sound of the flat battery was
back, but even slower now. I smashed my foot down hard on the
accelerator, nearly shoving my foot through the rotten rusted, pox
ridden floor and when I'd nearly given up all hope, the bastard caught
on what must have been the very last ounce of battery. I revved the
engine, trying to keep it alive, I nursed that peddle gently encouraging
the revs to settle, but it was cold and the missing cylinders made it
choke and chortle cough and splutter but it didn't die on me. I sat
there for ages shitting myself in case the engine died. This was my only
chance and I had to get it right. It was then that I noticed that I was
sweating. Beads of perspiration on my brow and on my nose. I laughed out
loud. I was freezing fucking cold and I was sweating trying to keep this
shit heap of a van alive. Finally, I felt the engine was sufficiently
warmed up to attempt to drive it. I had no idea what was going on back
at the gig or whether Dai had got there yet. I put the blue beast in
reverse and backed out of the parking space and headed toward the gig.
There were still plenty of gangs around but things had thinned out a
lot. As I swung round to the rear stage door I could see the tour van
pulling away. Dai had obviously made it with out too much bother. I
screamed up and parked in the place Dai had just vacated and was
immediately surrounded by punters. I blasted the horn two or three
times, the doors opened and out they came piling through the crowd. The
back doors were not even closed as I roared away from the gig with no
intention of stopping should any brave boyo get in my way. I'd had
enough of this shit and I wanted to leave it behind. Someone closed the
doors as I asked if they were all there.
"Yea, were all here" came the reply. I looked in the rear view
mirror and smiled
"Were all fucking mad, we are," I said
"What else would you be doing right now," said Graham with a
relieved smile
"Fuck knows" was my weary reply.
Whilst waiting for me to turn up, the others had arranged to meet the
band and all other Finchley Boys who were in other transport, at the
first services out of town.
We pulled into the services and were glad to get out of the van. We all
got something to eat (paid for by the band) and chatted about the night.
That was a great feeling. Warm, fed safe and happy to have got out of it
all with no more than a kick up the arse and a few bruises to the old
ego. I was feeling fine, until it was time to go. The idea of the
journey back filled me with dread, but we had no choice but to suffer
it.
When I finally got home, I can't remember what time it was. My brain was
so numb and my head was exploding with the early morning cold. It took
me hours to get warm. I shivered, laying in my bed still in my clothes
my teeth chattered and although I was tired as a dog, I couldn't sleep.
Eventually at around 7 am, I felt a warm glow finally spread throughout
my body. I felt myself float off to sleep, only to return in my dreams
to the journey and the chaos of the Top Rank Swansea. |