Scream For Me
Sarajevo And Six Degrees Of Seperation
Preface
Once
upon a time, something happened.
Then
some years passed.
Sometime
later, someone asked me about what had happened in that time before the years
passed.
What
you are about to read are some of the things that happened after the passing of
those years.
The
end.
And
we all lived happily ever after.
I would like to offer a huge debt of thanks to, Anna Gentry and
Rebecca Mastny for the proofreading and the steering of the ship HMS Is This
Going Anywhere.
Also, to Sandy Montes and Mark Anderson for helping me track down
that date, who’d have thunk it would be so difficult.
“Okay,
kid. This is where it gets complicated.” Amy Pond speaking to Amy Pond.
Dr Who.
The Big Bang. Series 5. Episode 13.
Six Degrees Of Separation
Six Degrees of Separation, is a concept first observed in
the short story entitled “Chains” by the Hungarian writer Frigyes Karinthy in
1929. In it he proposes that everyone on Earth is connected via six friends or
less.
I’m going to try and convince you, that by the time you
have read these words, that you are already indirectly connected to a gig in Sarajevo
in December 1994, Chris Dale’s three part blog and the award winning
documentary that followed.
Dear reader,
I can only presume that you are reading this because you
have read Chris Dale’s three part blog “Scream For Me Sarajevo”, or you have seen the award
winning documentary “Scream For Me Sarajevo”, or you have read the book "Inside The Skunkworks Machine", which is a complimentary book to the
afore mentioned three part blog “Scream For Me Sarajevo” and the award winning
documentary “Scream For Me Sarajevo”.
You know something, if nothing else comes out of this, at
least I’ve learnt how to spell Sarajevo.
Don’t get me wrong, if you had shown me a map of Europe, I
could easily have pointed at Sarajevo, mainly thanks to Torvill and Dean mincing
around to Ravel’s “Bolero”, in the 1984 Winter Olympics, but if you had asked me
to spell Sarajevo… Nar…
Which reminds me. How do you go from hosting the Winter
Olympics to all out civil war in a single decade? Answers on a post card to…
What Torvill
and Dean were doing on 14th February 1984.
What I was
doing on 14th February 1984.
Dear reader,
Now we have established why you are here maybe I should try
to explain why I’m here.
In August 2019 Chris Dale started up a Skunkworks page on
Facefuck. This, for me, was like a gift from God. I’ve never hidden my love for
all things Skunkworks and that page very quickly became a gold mine for all
things Skunkworks and even I began to learn a few things.
A few months after starting up the page, Chris mentioned the
idea of the book, and how in starting up the Skunkworks page he’d been testing
the water, so to speak, to see if there was an interest in all things
Skunkworks. As if he needed to even ask.
He contacted me directly and asked if I’d like to be
involved and would I be interested in answering a few questions. I simply jumped at the chance, it
seemed the least I could do, and besides all of that, and just like Chris
starting up the Facefuck page, I too had an ulterior motive.
Let me explain. Somewhere near 2013/14 I had decided, thanks
to a sudden and unplanned arrival of some free time, to get around to writing
up more of my Bruce blogs, so I dug out all my old diaries and made detailed
notes, then I dug out all of my Bruce related memorabilia and merchandise and
photographed the lot, and there was a lot.
I was a good half a dozen pages into my next blog when I hit
the wall, not so much writer’s block, but I got stuck. I needed the Wolfsbane
tour dates from 1993 and do you think I could find them? No chance.
Everywhere I looked and everyone I asked drew a negative and
with no obvious way around the blockage, the blog was put on hold and that’s where
it stayed, collecting dust, micro dust. See what I did there…? (As a footnote,
if anyone out there has the tour dates… you know what to do).
Suddenly, well, six-ish years later, Chris was offering me a
chance to do something good and positive with all of those photos and I could
cannibalise my blog. It was a win win situation and maybe somewhere down the
line, awareness and a shed load of money could be raised.
Pouring through my notes and photos, I found a new wind, I
could barely wait to come home to answer the Q&A that Chris had sent to me.
I was buzzing. Burning with excitement and energy, even after a 15 hour shift.
I’m a truck driver, it’s what we do, 15 hour shifts that is…
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Then the Chinese got involved.
I don’t remember getting drunk. I don’t remember going
online. I don’t remember ordering it. But there it was, delivered to the door,
COVID-19.
By the time I had finished Chris’s Q&A it was 20 pages
long. I knew that Chris wouldn’t be able to use all of the answers or would he want
to, that’s when I had the idea to turn those Q&As into a blog. Chris could
edit and use what he wanted and then, just like with previous protects, I would
put the un-edited version of the Q&A on my blog.
Other blogs are available.
Dear reader,
Well dear reader, that is how you play Six Degrees of
Separation.
Are you ready?
Then let’s play, Six Degrees of Separation.
Degree 1
the posting of a ticket on the IMFC Forum of a gig in
Sarajevo from December 1994, an E Mail to a bass player,
Image of the Sarajevo ticket that was posted.
If my memory serves me right, and I’m not sure it does, the
image was posted in “Show Off” so most people missed it, shame really, but some
of us saw it, which was great for me because I suddenly found a few more fans
of Bruce’s solo work and Skunkworks too.
What it also
meant was I was now in contact with at least one person who was actually at the
gig, a gig that most people hadn’t even heard of.
Although I
didn’t know it at the time, things were about to get interesting.
The image was
posted by Moca and as I wrote, for the life of me I can’t remember when it was
posted. I’ve dug out all of my diaries (again) thinking that maybe I would have
mentioned it, but if I did, I can’t find it. My best guess it that Moca posted
it in 2011 or early 2012 for reasons that I won’t bore you with here.
Why is the
date important? Because it is. It’s all about details, details hold the key.
It’s the very same reason people climb mountains. Have you ever noticed how the
only people to ask, “Why do people climb mountains?” have never seen one. If
you’ve ever seen a mountain, you’d know quite instinctively why you would want
to climb it.
Actually, I
will bore you with my guess. On the 10th December 2011, I had
briefly met Moca at “Canterbury Rocks At Christmas”. It was a charity concert
organised by Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull. I think it was something he tried to
do every year, or at least whenever he could, each time using a different
church.
In 2011 he chose
Canterbury Cathedral. Justin Haywood and Bruce Dickinson also performed that
night and that is why a few Maiden fans and Bruce fans turned up.
After the gig,
Karen, myself and a few others all piled into the pub around the corner and
that is where I briefly met Moca, or was it in the cathedral, either way, the
point is this, if she had posted that image in 2011, I would surely have spoken
to her about it. Wouldn’t I…? I mean I would, wouldn’t I? So why don’t I
remember speaking to Moca about it?
But then, I
drank so much that night, if I had spent the entire evening dancing the Tango
with the King of Tonga, I wouldn’t remember it.
That was also
the night of those Amazonian Women, now there’s a story, maybe you should ask
Wayne about that.
The one thing
I do remember clearly is sending an E Mail to Chris in 2012 about a few
Skunkworks chats that were happening on the IMFC including the posting of that
image of the ticket. That memory of that E Mail clearly places my timeline in
2012.
Cogs were turning,
clocks were ticking, and I started to give thoughts to another Bruce blog, but
like most of my thoughts, that’s just what they were, thoughts, and we all know
what happen to “thought” don’t we.
Degree 2
the random meeting of a bird in a London pub,
Having placed my timeline firmly in 2012 let me promptly jump back into 2011, don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to this.
In the
November of 2011, Iron Maiden, for whatever reason, decided to hold an Iron
Maiden weekend, to be held over the weekend of 05th - 08th
October 2012, they were going to call it “Edventure Weekend” and it was going
to held at Hopton Holiday Park near Great Yarmouth, Norfolk, and even though it
was made clear right from the word go that no one from Iron Maiden would be
attending in any way shape or form, like good little *puppets/muppets/troopers
(*delete where necessary) we all dutifully made plans to attend. Just what we
all needed to be doing in November, as if Christmas wasn’t expensive enough…
This went on
for a few weeks with IMFC members posting details of road trips, trains, flights,
hotels, basically travel plans of all shapes and sizes.
Then sometime
in 2012, Iron Maiden, for whatever reason, decided to cancel the Edventure
Weekend (who mentioned piss pour ticket sales and a complete lack of
interest…?).
Those that
could cancel their travels plans did. Those that couldn’t, didn’t.
Maiden fans
being Maiden fans did the only thing that made sense or seemed good and proper,
we arranged a weekend of our own in London. Most, if not all of the fans flying
into the UK were flying into to London so it made perfect sense to go on the
lash in London with loads of other Maiden fans. So that’s what we did.
If Iron
Maiden couldn’t be bothered, fuck them, we could, so we did.
“There’s only
one ‘um… That’s fuck um…”
And that dear
reader is how I came to be in the Intrepid Fox public house in London on Saturday
06th October 2012.
What happened
next has messed with my head ever since.
At some point
during the night, I ended up chatting to Moca (Tatjana), I say chatting, it was
more like a shouting competition.
Moca. “Blah,
blah, blah, blah…”
Me. “What?”
Moca. “BLAH!
BLAH! BLAH!”
Me. “WHAT!?”
(Points at my ear).
Anyway,
during our shouting competition, Moca shouted something along the lines of
having video or film footage of that Sarajevo gig.
WTF!? Did she
just say she had footage of the Sarajevo gig? I didn’t even know anyone had
filmed it, never mind that any footage had survived. In all of the passing
years I had never once heard anyone even hint or joke about there being footage
of that gig. I’ve had many conversations about, wouldn’t it have been great to
have been there, wouldn’t it be great to have a bootleg of the gig, but to
suddenly hear that it had been filmed and that the footage still exists… Shit
the bed.
Now me being
me, all I could think of at that time was, if there is footage, does that mean
there is a bootleg of the gig, and that, is as far as my thinking was taking
me. Footage = audio = bootleg.
I feel I must
be honest, and should only be honest, because all the time Moca was shouting in
my ear, part of me was thinking, “footage?” … “really?”… “yes love…” “FFS!...”
*rolls eyes…*
Let me try to
explain.
I’m a fan,
and whoever you are, wherever you are, if you are a fan, you know exactly what
I mean when I write that you miss nothing. There is no single fact that you
don’t know. In today’s world it is easy to pass information to others with the
click of a mouse, but before the interweb it still happened, maybe more so.
My memory
went back to the rear cover of Anthrax’s, Killer B’s EP and to that sleeve
note, “How do you find out about this stuff? It’s not like we go around and
announce it… It really amazes me how people find out about shit. It’s like some
secret underground network.” (Flying over your house 5 guys called Anthrax).
Well, I can
tell you as I write (in Jan/Feb 2021) that I had never even heard a hint, a
whisper, a joke, NOTHING about footage or audio from Sarajevo.
I won’t bore
you with rest of the conversation but Moca then told me about her idea of a
film, a documentary, and I thought, well that pisses over my thoughts of a
bootleg of the gig, why bootleg it when you can make a documentary film about
the whole event. Suddenly, even in my drunken haze I was seeing a much bigger
picture.
I asked if
she had contacted Bruce about her idea, which she hadn’t, and it’s at that
point I thought about Chris Dale and somewhere inside my head, in that noisy
pub, in the middle of a drunken shouty conversation, I went CLICK! If there is anyone I know from the band, then
it’s Chris who would grasp the concept.
I asked if
she would like me to contact Chris, she said yes, so that’s what I did. I sent
Chris an E Mail about some random bird I’d met in a pub who had footage of that
Sarajevo gig and how she wanted to make a film or a documentary. Chris thanked
me for not passing on his contact details to some random bird in a pub but said
it was OK for me to now do so. The rest as they say, is history, or at least an
award winning documentary.
As a side note,
after we had finished shouting at each other I grabbed someone next to me.
Me. “What do
you know about that bird?”
Him. “Which
bird?”
Me. “That
one” (pointing at Moca as she disappeared through the crowd).
Him. “What
about her?”
Me. Well,
what do you know about her? Is she a good person, a bad person, a somewhere in
between person? What do you know about her?”
Him. “She’s
alright, she’s on the Forum, I think she’s a friend of Katie…”
Me. “Katie? Really?
Um…”
A friend of
Katie’s. Is there a finer recommendation? Not that I knew of. That’s up there
with a Willy Wonka Golden Ticket.
And that’s
how it was for the rest of the night. Anyone I could ask about that bird I did,
but it didn’t stop there, once I got home, I dived onto the Footy Thread and
asked the same question of the same bird. All I got was positive replies. Not
one person said anything negative. My Spider Senses started to tingle, no one
could be that popular… what is she up to… who does she have photos of… and can
I see them…?
Degree 3
The World Economic Forum in Davos, in the heaviest
snow in 20 years,
On Monday 07th January 2019 I opened up an E Mail
from Amy at KB Events asking if I’d like to do Davos. “Is it snowing?” I asked.
Amy assured me that because Davos is in Switzerland and it was January, it was
indeed snowing, heavily. Then count me in, I replied, “I want to go and play in
the snow with my truck”.
The calm before the storm. It all felt so safe.
Less than a week later and I’m arriving in Davos to bright blue skies and clean Alpine air, the following day however was to bring the heaviest snow in Switzerland for almost 20 years, or so I’m told.
Just like the
Weeping Angels from Dr Who, all I could do was stare, watch, observe, study,
ponder, wonder, be scared, very scared, but then I’d get distracted, I’d look
away before eventually looking back, BOOM! only to find that 360 degrees of
freezing cold white death was closer, deeper, creeping up the sides of the
truck like the red weed from War of the Worlds, like a silky web I was slowly
being cocooned in my very own ice cold tomb of death.
The morning after the night before.
The snow simply didn’t stop. I was the first truck to arrive
in the truck park at Davos Glaris. In fact, I was the only truck to arrive at
Davos Glaris. I felt very alone. Small. Fragile. The truck park was ploughed
three times.
As a footnote, the constant snow stopped me going to meet
Tony at the airport who was flying into Zurich from London.
The credit went on my phone, I’d forgotten that I wasn’t in
the EU anymore, I was in Switzerland. Then I lost the signal on my phone. All I
could do was to sit tight and wait to be rescued. I had visions of the
newspaper headlines. Stupid English boy found frozen to death in truck
wearing shorts.
I wrote to my daughter.
Night fell. The temperature fell. I stopped looking once it
reached -20c, and then, as if by magic, Tony arrived like a knight in shining
armour, or in this case, a knight in a shiny people carrier.
Even
though I can’t always be with my daughter, my daughter is always with me, even when
she is halfway across Europe.
Degree 4
a two hour journey from Davos to Chur with my newest
best friend Tony, the PM on the project, listening to his stories (and not once
did he mention Sarajevo or The Serious Road Trip) a private gig by Sting,
The following day was Monday 14th January 2019 and
we had to go to Europcar in Chur to collect a second hire vehicle, in this
case, a Sprinter Van.
Now, what you may or not be aware of, is that Davos is
chosen to host The World Economic Forum for a few reasons, but the main reason
is that there is one road in and one road out, which makes it very easy to turn
Davos into a sterile area for security reasons.
Let the lock down begin.
That years WEF was supposed to host British PM May, US President Trump, German Chancellor Merkel, French President Macron, etc etc etc… So now you can understand why the air space over the valley becomes a no fly zone and the road in and out of Davos sprouts new security checks as the days pass, becoming something very similar to a 400 metre hurdles Olympic Final, meaning there is always just one more hurdle to clear, but instead of lots of people cheering you on to Olympic success there are lots of very heavily armed security type people just ready, and willing, to give you a jolly good going over given the slightest chance.
Because of that, Tony suggested going to Chur down the
valley and out the long way around. It made perfect sense to me, so that’s
exactly what we did, down the valley then up through Wiesen, Schmitten,
Alvaneu, Lantsch/Lenz, before getting onto the main drag and finally into Chur
and Europcar at Bahnhofpl 1. What? It’s been two years, I can’t remember every
village we drove through.
As we drove up to Chur, we threw stories into those quiet
places you find in conversations and by the time we’d got to Chur we’d had a
pretty good bonding session. But in all of that time, he never once even hinted
at what I was about to find out three days later.
He had told me some pretty cool stories, but like all good
guys, he wasn’t telling the stories and making them about him, he was telling
the stories and it was the experience that was in the limelight and because of
that, those final pieces to the jigsaw were missing and I wasn’t looking
closely enough at the picture on the front of the box to notice.
Not once did he mention his connection to the gig, I
literally had no idea just how our lives were already connected, not only
because of a gig in Sarajevo in the winter of 1994 via those wonderful rules of
Six Degrees of Separation, but a few months earlier, we had both been in the
same room, you couldn’t make it up, we were literally a few metres apart from
each other and yet, we had never met. Sliding Doors anyone?
And so, I spent a further three days not knowing.
Degree 5
the meeting of a Scotsman in a bar in Davos who had
started his own Heavy Metal Festival called WinterStorm (I think)
Daylight hours are short in winter and they seemed even
shorter to me in that ice cold sunless valley in the Swiss Alps. The Sun barely
climbed over the peak of the mountains on the southern side of the valley, but
on a positive note the snow did stop every now and again and at one point the
temperature even managed to climb a heart warming -14c in daytime.
This very quickly became our pattern of behaviour until
three days later.
Thursday 17th January 2019 started out like the
previous days, early, dark and cold, very cold, but it was to end very
differently.
At this point
I still didn’t actually know what the event was that I was working on. That’s
the fun part of working a corporate event. It’s not my job to know. My job is
to drive the truck. Arrive at the production company early, or on time at the
latest, load the truck and make my way the venue ASAP making sure I get there
before anyone else so the job can start on time. Which is why I was the first
truck to arrive at Davos Glaris. It wasn’t until one of the local crew told me.
“Sting” I
heard him say to his friend. “What about him?” I asked, interrupting the
conversation. “Sting, we are working for Sting” he replied. I won’t bore you
with the rest of the conversation, but I can honestly tell you that I didn’t
know the event was actually going to be a private party that Sting would be
playing. I was ten days into the job before I found out and then I found out by
accident. As I said, it’s not my job to know.
Dodgy hair
and a face mask, a full 12 months before it became the law.
Thanks to
Jo Daykin for the photo.
For those next three days and nights we worked like dogs. The event was to be held in a night club which hadn’t been used since the previous year’s event. The night club was part of a building which held the night club and a pub on the corner called the Ex Bar.
The Ex Bar
was basically a sports bar, with big TVs, lots of food and lots of beer and we
used it as our base after work. Each night we would lock up the night club and
stagger next door for food, a beer, a de-brief of the day and a planning
meeting for the next day. Until the night of the 17th.
I’m not sure
how it happened it just did. Instead of just staggering into the pub having a
meal and then staggering off to the hotel. We all just, kind of, stayed in the
pub and had a bit of a session. It wasn’t planned, but by God was it needed.
It was just
like the best parties that happen by accident in someone’s kitchen, when it’s
something completely organic, when you are with your closest friends, or
friends you have only just met, where’s there is no bullshit or ego, you can
just be yourself with your closest friends or open up to new ones. So that’s
what we did.
Steak,
chips and pine tree, the reason we told our families we were using the Ex Bar
as a base.
Once we had
finished our meal of steak, chips and pine tree, we removed ourselves from the
elevated seating area and made our way to the bar, and as I wrote before, we
didn’t set out to, it just kind of sort of happened, and before I knew it, we
were all stood at the bar throwing stories into those quiet places you find in
conversations, except, we were in a noisy sports bar and there was very little
time for quiet places in conversations…
I suddenly
became aware, after a brief, but educational trip to the toilets, of a
conversation that involved the people I was working with and a lovely bloke
from Scotland.
The real
reason we were using the Ex Bar as a base.
Turns out,
this bloke had, instead of sitting on his fat lazy arse bitching and moaning
about the state of British music and its live scene, had decided to start up
his own Heavy Metal festival called WinterStorm (I think).
Be part of a
problem or part of a solution.
I found
myself instantly attracted to him… in a strictly heterosexual way, I like my
toast strictly butter side up.
To my shame
I’d never even heard of the festival he had started, so I asked him loads and
questions and listened politely while all the time knowing I was never going to
remember a damn word he said to me.
Degree 6
and a photo on a smart phone, taken at the Odeon
Cinema in London’s Leicester Square…And of course you and me.
If my memory serves me right, and I’m not sure it does,
because I can’t remember for the life of me why Tony took out his phone to show
everyone a photo, but he did, he then proceeded to show everyone the photo, it
was a group photo, a line up of very familiar faces to me.
If my memory serves me right, and I’m not sure it does, the
photo line up consisted of, Tony Rees, Chris Dale, Tatjana Bonny, Major Morris,
Trevor Gibson, Bruce Dickinson and me being me, looking at it through beer
soaked eyes said, in a large, loud and excited voice, “I know where that photo
was taken…” at which point everyone looks at me as if to say, “Yeah right…”,
“It was at the Scream For Me Sarajevo Premier last April at the Odeon in
Leicester Square…” everyone is still looking at me as I ended my sentence with,
“I was there…” I stood back and grinned like a loony…
Everyone was still looking at me. “No, really, I was there”
I insisted.
I then proceeded to explain how my daughter, who was
visiting me during the half term break, didn’t want to go to the premier, but we
still popped into London to do some sightseeing and shopping before diving into
the cinema to pick up my ticket.
My daughter then went back to Cumbria on the train. I then
jumped on the tube and made my way to The Moon Under Water pub in Leicester Square,
where I met up with a few friends, Bridget, Diane, Chris, Mark (RIP) and
someone even introduced me to my new best friend Trevor. We eventually made our
way into the cinema.
Me and my
new best mate Trevor.
I then asked Tony why he was there and what his connection
to the film was. His answers simply floored me. As the words fell from his
mouth, everyone else’s mouths fell to the floor. I obviously knew about the gig
in Sarajevo and the award winning documentary, but no one else in the group
did. They listened like a child listens to a bed time story. Silently and awe
struck.
He told his story, his connection to The Serious Road Trip,
liberating a sound desk from the house of some singer in a Heavy Metal band who
lives in West London, and many more stories too, but he told them with grace,
dignity, humility, and humour too. And just like the previous Monday his words
only shone on the events and never himself.
In a vain way of trying to prove I was there I said how I
remember The Serious Road Trip guests being in the audience at the rear right
because me, Diane and Mark were on the rear left.
He expressed nothing but complete humbleness in the
retelling of his tales and in my drunken state, my fuzzy brain laughed at the
sound desk story, because I’d always thought that story was a rumour, my brain
grasped and tried to hold on to the details that were coming my way, because
somehow, someway, in my drunken state, I went back to three days previously and
that car journey to Chur to collect the van and the stories that Tony had told
me.
Now, in my drunken state, those stories I’d heard on Monday,
that until now sounded complete, were anything but, it was only now, that the
details had come to light, that the final pieces were being handed to me and
just like the missing pieces of a jigsaw, they were all being handed to me one
piece at a time and I went, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK… and the final pieces were
placed into his story, my story and maybe your story too.
The image became clear. The picture was completed. And the
world became a little bit smaller. Six degrees smaller.
Noggin xx
Links to Inside The Skunkworks Machine and previous Blogs by Chris
Dale and myself.
Inside The
Skunkworks Machine.
UK
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Inside-Skunkworks.../dp/B09V245974/
USA
https://www.amazon.com/Inside-Skunkworks.../dp/B09V245974/
Germany
https://www.amazon.de/-/en/Chris-Dale/dp/B09V245974/
France
https://www.amazon.fr/Inside-Skunkworks.../dp/B09V245974/
Italy
https://www.amazon.it/Inside-Skunkworks.../dp/B09VFLWNT5/
Canada
https://www.amazon.ca/Inside-Skunkworks.../dp/B09VFLWNT5/
Chris Dale’s Blogs.
Scream For Me Sarajevo Part 1
https://www.metaltalk.net/20100821.php
Scream For Me Sarajevo Part 2
https://www.metaltalk.net/20100821.php
Scream For Me Sarajevo Part 3
https://www.metaltalk.net/20100821.php
Previous Bruce
Dickinson Blogs.
Tattooed Millionaire UK Tour 1990.
http://nogginwalsall.blogspot.com/2016/11/bruce-dickinson-tattooed-millionaire-uk.html
Olly And Noggin’s Tour Diary (1998).
http://nogginwalsall.blogspot.com/2014/07/bruce-dickinson-olly-and-noggins-tour.html
In Search Of The Now Man Part One (2002).
http://nogginwalsall.blogspot.com/2014/07/bruce-dickinson-in-search-of-now-man.html
In Search Of The Now Man Part Two (2002).
http://nogginwalsall.blogspot.com/2014/07/bruce-dickinson-in-search-of-now-man_8.html
Scream For Sarajevo - From Walsall To Wacken (2023).
(Link to follow… )
Easter
Eggs.
And finally…
Meet Granny, my alter ego. I meet Gran while working on a Queen
gig many years ago and she has been my on the road companion ever since. She is
the voice I’m not allowed to have or use. Gran does not suffer fools gladly.
Cross Gran at your peril.
If you open these links on a phone you will just get images, but,
if you open these links on a porn machine, you will get extra images and
comments and insights into the chaos. It’s all just smoke and mirrors you know…
Granny goes gigging and corporate whoring. Part 34.
Davos, World Economic Forum. Introduction.
Granny goes gigging and corporate whoring. Part 35.
Davos, World Economic Forum. Pt1.
Granny goes gigging and corporate whoring. Part 36.
Davos, World Economic Forum. Pt2.
Granny goes gigging and corporate whoring. Part 37.
Davos, World Economic Forum. Pt3.
Granny goes gigging and corporate
whoring. Part 38.
Davos, World
Economic Forum. Pt4.
Granny goes gigging and corporate whoring. Part 39.
Davos, World Economic Forum. Pt5.
Noggin xx
