Really silly things I've done...: April 2023

Scream For Me Sarajevo - From Walsall To Wacken

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 before 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 And I Thought He Talked A Lot.

Introduction

Dear reader.

What you are about to read, for good or for bad, is the unedited Q&A that Chris sent to me in the winter of 2019. If anyone needs to go to the bar then now is the time to do it, we are going to be here a while.

Noggin Questions

Do you know roughly how many concerts you saw by the Skunkworks band line up 1994-96?

I know exactly how many concerts I saw. I have a “Gig List” probably the greatest piece of advice I was ever given, “Make a gig list…”

I saw 19 out of 21 UK gigs.

The two gigs I missed were Bradford and Glasgow in October 1994.

What was the furthest you travelled?

In miles? Glasgow. In real time? Norwich, it was like time travel. You know that bit at the start of every Dr Who episode, where the TARDIS spins and falls through time and space… Welcome to Norwich.

You’d think, after going there once, that we wouldn’t repeat our mistake.

Were you an Iron Maiden fan before, if not how did you get into the band?

Yes. I’d been a Maiden fan since 1980. I have a very distant memory of listening to the Friday Rock Show session in 1979, but it is very distant and time plays tricks, but I do have both copies of “Axe Attack Vol I”

Because I was a Maiden fan, I took an active interest in all of the solo projects that members of Maiden were involved with. Some I liked. Some I didn’t.

How many lives did he and Tony Wilson change for the better

What is your funniest memory of those times, travelling?

What is your best/funniest gig memory?

Any more stories to tell?

Hands up (in the air… there are people over there making up their own entertainment…) which one of us couldn’t fill a book telling stories from off the road?

A Big Cat

Did I ever tell you about the Big Cat? Olly, Big Jon and myself were a bit reluctant to talk about it at the time because we didn’t want anyone to take us too seriously and then go out and try and kill it, after all, Big Cat or no Big Cat, it has as much right to life as me or you, so basically, we never really spoke of it after that night.

My memory of that night is this. We had found a kabab shop, we bought our kababs and had gone back to the car to eat them. While eating our kababs, about 100 yards to our right, a Big Cat walked past the car. It really is that simple a story.

It must have been real because we all stopped eating our kababs… and it takes a lot to stop us eating our kababs. Kababs, the hunting of, and the eating of, is taken very seriously. Never mind all that Skateboard bollocks being in the Japan 2020 Olympics, if hunting and eating kababs ever becomes an Olympic sport, we would make Ed Moses look like a bloke with a weird limp.

My memory is that after the shock of seeing a Big Catwalk past us I said something along the lines of, “Did you all just see what I thought I just saw…?” I then said something along the lines of, “I’m going ask questions, just answer with your first thoughts”. I then asked questions like, “What colour?” “What size?” My memory is that we answered some questions the same and some slightly different, but the one thing I do remember is we all said the tip of the tail was rounded.

Sometime afterwards I got out the car and went to look for paw tracks. *sighs and rolls eyes* I know that now… No point telling me that now… I was young and stupid… and anyway, what’s the worst thing that could happen.

It wasn’t until I was in the middle of all these bushes and trees and things that I suddenly thought to myself, I’m going to look pretty stupid if… “SNAP!” went something behind me… “Oh Bugger!”

Basically, I’ve just walked into this Big Cat’s kitchen, I’m basically a takeaway meal. “Did somebody say Just Eat?” Slowly, and I mean s-l-o-w-l-y, I turned my head around to the direction that the noise came from. I couldn’t see anything, but then I had got my eyes closed… Ha! Ha! Ha!

I really was about to come fully unstuck. I had basically walked into the kitchen of a fully qualified killing machine, who had been designed by Mother Nature to sneak upon me and kill me with one swipe of its paw, it was basically a shark on legs, four legs. There was no point in running. I wasn’t going to our run a Big Cat, I wasn’t going to outrun a shark on land never mind a Big Cat, and wearing PUMA’s wouldn’t help either, it was adding insult injury.

Yes, I’d heard something, but I couldn’t see anything, and all I could think of was the opening titles of “Kung Fu”, when he walked along that rice paper and I’m desperately trying to remember how he did it.

I don’t think I’ve ever moved so slowly or been so quiet in my life.

Eventually, I found myself out in the open, walking back to car, trying to act like The Fonz while all the time I’m thinking, don’t look behind you… DO NOT LOOK BEHIND YOU…

Of course, it probably looked like a chase scene from a Benny Hill sketch…

Grasshopper.

Ticket No. 666

Here’s a nice short story for you. Olly, Big Jon and myself went to Tivoli, in Buckley, North Wales. We hadn’t got tickets so we bought them on the door. I ended up with ticket number 666

Now that’s not the weirdest part of that story, the weirdest part of that story is that the following day we went to see the band play in Norwich and I took the ticket with me to get signed.

I walked into The Oval in Norwich and bumped into Bruce. I asked him if he would sign my ticket, promptly whipping it out of my pocket and showing it to him, only for him to run off.

Actually, what happened was that he saw the number 666 and said, “Keep that away from me!” before getting up and running off. Well, I thought he was joking and messing around, so I started to go after him, well that was a mistake, he really wouldn’t sign it and he told me so in no uncertain terms. He wouldn’t even go anywhere near it.

To this day it remains unsigned.

You aren’t going to get divorced are you? And who the hell is Teresa?

One of the better memories from those first gigs was Bristol, Bierkeller. I can’t really remember how it happened, but we all got invited to stay back after the gig to meet the band, get some things signed, you know the normal thing that happens.

Then it all kind of, erm, I don’t know what the word is, but we just all kind of hung out chatting. Bruce, the tour manager whose name I’ve forgotten, Olly, Big Jon, Donna, Atsuko, Swiss Alex, Monica and myself, maybe a few others, we all just sat around chatting, which basically ended up being a Q&A, with Bruce answering any question thrown his way.

One of the questions I remember asking was why he’d re-recorded one of the B Sides to a different melody. Bruce then told us how he’d stolen a melody from a Queen song, which basically led to Bruce singing it as he sat there. I think I dribbled from a place I’m not supposed to dribble from in public.

He also talked of writing songs on an acoustic guitar, me being me had to take the piss and say “Bruce knows the A chord” which made all the muso’s laugh. Which led to me saying, “Oh no, you aren’t going to get all miserable and depressing on us are you.” “You aren’t going to get divorced are you…?” “No, I’ve done that.” He replied.

We just all chatted about anything and everything, I do remember saying, “Thanks for being cosmic cool and groovy” but not before Bruce had offered us the chance to come along to the end of tour party the following night at the Marquee. Now there’s a story.

Basically, Bruce asked us if we’d interested in going to the end of tour party, well, let me think about that for a second… Bruce’s tour manager then joined in and said, “We’ll let Teresa know in the office, just call her in the morning and confirm how many tickets you need.” He then took my CD and wrote “071 243 **** Teresa” on the case.

The following morning, feeling very unsure and very, very nervous, I dialled the number on the back of the CD. “Hello, Sanctuary Music,” said the voice, I almost fainted, EEK! “Erm, Hi, Hello, can I speak to Teresa please?” “Yes, may I ask who’s calling please?” “My name is Noggin…” and I’m now starting to stumble over my words, I just couldn’t get my mouth to work properly, “Hold the line please.” interrupted the voice, saving me from any further embarrassment and in the distance I heard, CLICK…CLICK… CLICK… as buttons were pressed on various switch boards.

My memory of what happened next goes something like this.

“Hello” said a voice.

“Hi, hello, my name is Noggin, can I speak to Teresa please?”

“Noggin, it’s Teresa, I’ve been expecting your call,” interrupted the voice.

“I understand you are coming the Marquee gig tonight and I’ve been asked to make sure your names are down on the list so you can get into the party.” My head was spinning. Properly spinning.

“Do you have tickets for the concert?” continued Teresa.

“Some do, some don’t, I’m not sure who is or is not coming to be honest, but we can only get four in the car anyway... so…” My mouth was going at a million miles an hour again, as I tried to explain about who may or may not be going.

“No problem,” interrupted Teresa, “what I’ll do is put your names down and I’ll put them at the top because we’ve got a limit of 50 people, and Bruce wants you all to be there.”

Now, I know I’ve just put that in quotation marks, but please don’t quote me or Teresa, it has been a long, a very long 25 years since that day and I have not told the story since. But basically, that is the gist of the conversation. The speed it all happened, had my head really spinning.

I phoned Olly and told him that we were good for the guest list, and you know, the weirdest thing is, my head was spinning so much, I have no memory of anything else after that phone call, not even the gig itself. I have a ticket to the gig. I just can’t remember it.

As for the party, which took place at the Marquee Café, I have no memory of that either, to this day I don’t know where the Marquee Café was, the two memories of the night are meeting Arthur “I am the God of hell fire” Brown, at the bar while I was getting the drinks in, and, just as I was just about to enter into a conversation with Arthur I got dragged away, and, my other memory is asking Bruce to sign my leather. Now there’s a story.

Remember those paint pens, that contained ball bearings that were usually in silver or gold? On a side note, I’ve got my ASAP 12-inch copy of “Silver and Gold” which is silver on one side and gold the other side, signed in silver on the gold side and gold on the silver side. Anyway, I walked over to Bruce who was standing at the bar chatting, I apologised for interrupting, I thanked him for the tour and looking after us all, and the invite to the party, we chatted and he said thank you for turning up and making the effort to see the gigs.

As we stood there chatting, I asked Bruce if he would sign my leather, Bruce being Bruce, said “Yeah, no problem,” “Can you sign it “Balls To Iron Maiden” for me please?” I asked. Bruce just laughed grabbed my gold pen, I placed my leather on the bar and Bruce then wrote, “Balls To Ron Maiden and the Dixie Chickens” and then signed his name.

Bruce then explained how “Ron Maiden and the Dixie Chickens” was a name Maiden used to play secret gigs under.

If I’d have had any sense, I’d have asked Bruce to sign my leather when Rod wasn’t standing there looking over our shoulders.

When the band played Run To The Hills, well nearly

Does anyone else out there remember the night the band played Run To The Hills? Well nearly played RTTH’s. It was at Bradford Rio’s. Now there’s a venue that brings back memories.

Actually, while I’m on the subject of Bradford Rio’s, my memory of the venue is that it wasn’t in the town centre but in the middle of a dodgy industrial estate somewhere on the outskirts of town. I also have a memory of it being on a street corner with a car park to the rear and while the building itself was square it was round inside. Have I remembered that correctly?

Rio’s was also the night when Liam’s naan bread went missing. Now there’s a story.

Just down the road from the venue was a mini round-a-bout with a small row of shops and a few takeaway restaurants one of them being an Indian. Anyway, after the gig we went to get something to eat, we took it all back to the car to eat, before Olly drove us home. Anyway, one minute Liam’s naan bread was there on the side, the next it wasn’t. I mean it was literally gone. Which all lead to a lot of finger pointing. To this day, I don’t know what happened to it. I’m not sure any of us do. It still makes me laugh when I think about it.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, RTTHs at Rio’s. I can’t remember how it started, I just remember that there was a problem on stage. Was it a guitar problem? A bass problem? I really can’t remember. But I have a distant memory of just when everyone thought the problem was solved something else went wrong. It just seemed to go on forever. I love it when it goes wrong, you get to see a band really work, it’s always good to watch them work their trade.

The crew are running around all over the place, the band are trying to help but are basically getting in the way, while Bruce is down the front doing what he does best, or at least trying to.

Speaking of Bruce being down the front, was that the night Bruce asked that bloke at the front of the stage to put his cigarette out, the bloke thought Bruce was joking, so basically, he said no, so in front of his girlfriend, Bruce poured a bottle of water over him and his cigarette. I guess you had to be there, but it was funny.

Anyway, Bruce was down the front, trying to keep everything going when Alex (Elena) suddenly started to play the opening to Run To The Hills, which as you all know is played on the drums.

Dum Dum Dum Ber-Dum-Tsch

The crowd went mental, proper mental, you know when you see those images from Fan Zones during sporting events, it was just like that, the room simply exploded. Bruce’s eyes and face lit up like a Christmas Tree.

Bruce turned around and looked at the band. “Do you know it?” He asked. The crowd are going bonkers, properly bonkers, beyond bonkers, super bonkers, the band all look at each and the song starts up again, Dum Dum Dum Ber-Dum-Tsch and it continues, they are going to play it, bloody hell, they really are going to play it, we are going to hear it, the music builds, moves closer to the opening line, the crowd are all over the floor like an Atlantic storm crashing into Cornish coast, Bruce plonks his foot on the monitor, opens his mouth to sing the opening line and just as he is about to sing, “White man came…” the band suddenly stop playing and leave Bruce with his foot on the monitor singing to nothing.

God it was funny. I wish I could put into words how it happened and how it felt, but I can’t really do it any justice.

Has anyone seen Bruce?

That was also the night I got my Bruce solo stuff signed. I’d got all the 1990’s stuff signed in 1990, (Birmingham, Hummingbird, see the other blog) but this was stuff that I’d bought since then and no, I don’t know why I didn’t take them to JB’s in Dudley a few days later to get it all signed, after all, Dudley is basically a home town gig.

Signed at Birmingham in 1990 (see other blog).

As I mentioned earlier, my memory of Rio’s is that it was square on the outside but round on the inside, will someone please put me out of my misery on that, it is doing my head in. The other memory I have of Rio’s is that the dressing rooms were above and behind the stage with a staircase stage left from the dressing rooms to the ground floor with a set of double doors at the bottom.

Those doors are important, because my memory is that those doors also separated the corridor to the dressing rooms from the main room. I really do wish I could remember it all more clearly. Does anyone have a plan of the building or photos?

The gig ends. I go back to the car. I grab my stuff. I go back into the building, and I meet up with Bruce and this is why those doors are so important to the story. For reasons which I can’t remember we ended up sitting on the floor, behind the double doors, crossed legged, like you did at school, chatting and laughing, like naughty school kids getting up to sneakiness, while Bruce signed all of my stuff.

Out of all the things I got up to on those tours, that has to be up there as one of the most surreal things that happened.

But what made the whole experience more of a mind fuck was, as we sat cross legged on the floor chatting and laughing, we could both hear people looking for Bruce.

Every now and again we would hear someone shout Bruce’s name, “Bruce!” or “BRUCE!” or “Has anyone seen Bruce?” or “Does anyone know where Bruce is?” you get the idea, it just made the whole situation more surreal. We were literally the other side of the double doors, sitting crossed legged, on the floor, chatting and laughing, if someone had simply pushed them open, they’d have found him.

It was like speed dating with rock stars, turns out that we have a lot of things in common, I was in the RAF Cadets while Bruce was Army, we talked of being marksmen, we had both fired this or that, been here or there, wanted to play with this weapon or that one, while all the time, from the other side of the door, all we would hear was “Bruce!” “Has anyone seen Bruce?”

One of the other things I have a vivid memory of is chatting about Olly, Big Jon, and why we were doing what we were doing and that day’s drive up to Bradford. During the conversation I told Bruce about something that had been said in the car, which basically ended up with Olly saying, “Riding in the Valium Star Ship”, which when it was said in the car lead to howls of laughter, but when I said it to Bruce, he started to laugh but instantly stopped, and that’s when he started to stare at somewhere far, far away, he literally just did the thousand yard stare, he didn’t move, breathe or blink.

BANG! Then suddenly he was gone, like a Greyhound after a hare, he was off like a rocket, straight up the stairs and into the dressing room. A minute or two later he bounced back down the stairs and sat back down where he once was.

I looked at Bruce, he looked at me, “You’ve just written a lyric, haven’t you?” I said. Bruce just stared at me. “You have, haven’t you?” I continued. Bruce smiled. “Do I get a percentage or a name check?... I’m going keep an eye open for anything remotely space orientated, you know that don’t you.” I said pointing at him. He just laughed.

As the years passed by, I often wondered what happened to the lyric or the idea he wrote down. Can you even begin to imagine what went through my head when I saw the artwork to “The Final Frontier”?

There once was a waggly tailed Beagle

Here’s something that you might not know, Olly was a fully qualified Librarian, he had letters after his name, and thanks to the Dewey Decimal System they were easy to find.

Thanks to Olly being a librarian, he was able to get unlimited access to the audio department which came in handy on those long drives to and from gigs. Olly made sure that the car was loaded up with as many copies of Round the Horne as he could, and to this day I can’t hear the opening bars to Tom Jones’s, “It’s Not Unusual” and not think back to those long drives and giggle to myself.

One night, while driving back from a gig, while listening to Round the Horne, we started to make up limericks, basically because it was a really silly thing to do, but more importantly as a way to stay awake, or more importantly, keeping Olly awake.

I remember being sat in the rear of Olly’s car, staring out of the window, while trying to star gaze, as we travelled north bound up the motorway, when Olly suddenly burst out laughing, not a little laugh, but one of those over-the-top comedy laughs. He was roaring his head off.

Of course, everyone else in the car is looking at him and thinking, what the fuck is he laughing at, he’s totally lost it this time, I mean, Round the Horne is funny, but it’s not that funny. He was laughing so hysterically, that to this day, I’m baffled as to how he kept the car on the road.

The car continues north bound. Olly continues to laugh like a drain. We continue to look at him like he’s just stepped out of a freshly landed spaceship. Eventually Olly tries to explain why he is laughing so hysterically and proceeds to recite the limerick that he has just created.

There once was a waggly tailed Beagle

Who decide to have sex with a Seagull

He went for a sail

But ended in jail

Because sex with a Seagull’s illegal

Brilliant isn’t it…

In search of the “Now Man” – good title that, someone should use it on a blog

I guess I should use this chance to tell the story of the “Now Man”.

Here is my memory of it, I’d love to know how different Bruce, Olly and Big Jon’s are.

The first night of the UK Tour took place at Portsmouth, Wedgewood Rooms, Wednesday 05^th June 1996 and as usual, Olly, Big Jon and myself went. I can’t remember for the life of me if Donna went, I’ll have to check.

Anyway, after the gig, Bruce, Olly, Big Jon and myself were chatting about a problem that the band had. The problem was a simple one, the band needed to communicate with the sound desk to let them know that they were ready to go on stage.

Remember, this isn’t a massive stadium or arena gig, where everyone uses a walkie talkie, it’s a club tour, and they needed to find a solution and quickly.

After a bit of a brain storming session, someone came up with the idea of someone walking on stage with a big sign reading “NOW”. That idea quickly moved to someone walking on stage inside a large sack or bag with the word “NOW” on the front of it.

Big Jon offered to be inside the sack or bag which then led to a secondary problem. Big Jon is aptly named, he isn’t little. He makes Grizzly Adams look like Olive Oyl from Popeye.

Olly and Big Jon then spent time trying to work out where to find a sack or bag big enough.

In the end they came up with the idea of an extra-large bin bag with the word “NOW” on the front in silver Gaffer Tape.

And that dear reader, is how the “Now Man” was born.

I think his first public performance was at Wolverhampton, Wulfrun Hall, Saturday 08^th June 1996.

Bruce, Gillan and a taxi

You know how everyone has a band? For some its Saxon, Maiden or Priest, while for others it’s The Nolan Sisters or KISS… Yeah, I know, but let’s not ridicule them.

Anyway, when you have a band, you inevitably become a collector, whether it be of records, T Shirts, or any other form of memorabilia that the marketing boys can dream up, and that also includes information and knowledge.

It isn’t enough to simply have records or things to hang on your bedroom walls, you crave knowledge, any little snippet, you read every interview, listen to any interview, sucking in as much information on your favourite band as you can, after all, that is what separates you from the rest.

For me it was Maiden, and I was no different from the rest of the people I’ve just described above. The one story I remember doing the rounds was a story about Bruce and how he met Gillan.

As the years went by the story became a story of legend, but I was never really able to nail it down completely, I always felt I was only hearing half of a story, until the day I heard Bruce talking about it in an interview.

For anyone that doesn’t know the story and for anyone that has not read his autobiography, the story goes like this. Bruce’s hero is Gillan. Bruce meets Gillan while recording a Samson album. Bruce gets stoned and or drunk. Bruce then disappears to the toilet. Bruce fails to return. Bruce is found by Gillan slumped in a toilet being very ill. Gillan cleans him up and puts him in a taxi. The story ends with Bruce saying, “I’ve never forgotten that.” and, I’m here to tell you that he hasn’t.

It was on the Skunkworks tour, we had driven up to Glasgow from Wolverhampton. The Glasgow gig was pretty uneventful, well, apart from when I fell out the back of the vehicle, well, I say fell, I was dragged out the back of the vehicle by a flight case that I saw falling, so I instinctively reached out and grabbed hold of the handle, but its weight, outweighed my weight, and gravity has a wonderful way of proving that you shouldn’t scoff at Newton or Einstein. My ankle simply turned to mush and I spent the next two days in agony. I was offered a trip to hospital, by there were T Shirts to sell and a gig to watch from the back of the room and anyway, I had a second ankle and I could always hop where I needed to go.

While I remember, Glasgow was also the gig I had my first encounter with a genuine groupie and it was also the night that I got to fulfil a dream. Easy Tiger, EASY… Not that sort of dream.

After the gig we went back to the hotel, we being, Chris (Dale), Alex (Dickson), Kenny (Kendrick, drummer from the support band Whatever, or at least I think it was Kenny) and myself, as we staggered out of the door onto the street, which was under a railway bridge if I remember correctly, a taxi passed us on the other side of the road going the wrong way, and that is when I fulfilled my dream, at the top of my voice I screamed, “TAXI!” and it stopped. Not only did it stop but it spun around like General Lee while on hot pursuit from Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane and screeched to a halt right in front us and I felt like The Fonz. “Eyy!”

What I didn’t know was, while I was up in Glasgow, it was all kicking off at home. The following day, still unaware of what was happening back home, we drove down to Bradford, Rio’s, we did the load in, and then we all went off to do our own thing, which is pretty standard on tour, you get very little time off or alone, so when do you make the most of it.

I went off to find a phone, which eventually I did, that’s when I was given the news. I spoke to my then girlfriend Alison. She bought me up to speed on the events. I told her that I would come home with Olly later that night.

Then it all goes a bit fuzzy for me, my head was everywhere. Had she really just told me what she had told me? I bumped into Bruce. He clocked straight away that something was wrong. He asked and I explained.

“Get a taxi.” he said.

“What?” I asked, not really listening to him properly.

“Get a taxi.” he repeated.

“Get a taxi where?” I said, not really understanding what he meant.

“Get a taxi and go home, I’ll pay for it.” he said.

“It’s OK, Olly is coming up for the gig, I can blag a lift home with him.” I insisted.

“You need to be at home, get a taxi, I’ll pay, don’t worry about tonight, we’ll wing it.” he continued.

We chatted and I talked through the options and eventually I convinced Bruce that I couldn’t really do anything, anyway, getting home at midnight or getting home at 03.00 isn’t really going alter anything.

There you have it. A story I probably shouldn’t tell.

But it is a true story.

Bruce never did forget it, and neither will I.

How did you go from fanboy to selling merchandise? There must be more funny stories there.

Actually, that’s a bit boring really, I got a phone call from Toni asking if I was still going to do the tour (as a fan) and I said yes, and she just asked if I’d like to sell the merch on the tour. Which all stemmed from me and running the fan club. Now there’s a story.

The now infamous inflatable banana. Did we really sell them on tour…?

Didn't you also not have a passport at the time and have to miss the Swedish and French shows?

Very well remembered. I’d never been abroad before, que the violin’s, I’d come from a broken home as it was called back then, and I’d never had two pennies to rub together, so having or needing a passport was completely unnecessary. Then suddenly I needed one.

It wasn’t until Toni and Bruce mentioned selling the merch at the Swedish and French shows that the problem came to light. Originally those gigs weren’t even going to happen and that’s why the Norwich gig at The Oval was put back a week.

Note the original Norwich date.

Bruce joked about smuggling me in under their radar just like 633 Squadron and I was properly up for and played along, until I realised that he wasn’t necessarily joking. EEK!

As soon as I could I went to Walsall Register Office, to get my Birth Certificate, because without one, you can’t get a passport (how times have changed, it not like today when any Tom, Dick or Harry can smuggle themselves across the Channel telling everyone that they are NHS recruits and walking straight into a job with benefits. No, back then you had to prove you were born here… Nothing to see here… MOVE ALONG!!! What? Too soon…?) I bet you £50 that gets edited out…

Anyway, after much confusion, they informed me that I needed to go to West Bromwich because that was my town of birth, “What, you can’t just print one off?” I asked, “No, they have to be handwritten” he replied.

If that’s not annoying enough, West Brom informed that they had “lost” some paperwork during an internal move or something. They basically said that because of a move they couldn’t find my records, but for a fee they would perform a more detailed search. Go on, guess what my reply to that was, take a guess, win a prize…

They wanted a stupid amount of money to go and find the records that they had lost. Not only was it the principle of it being their mistake so they needed to put it right, but I hadn’t got that kind of money. Maybe I could have taken the money out of the merchandise money and then paid it back, but as I see it, that’s wrong, even if no one would have known, I’d have known, it’s the principle.

And, besides all of that, if they had "lost" whatever it was that they had lost, why would me giving them a stupid amount of money suddenly make it "un-lost" again? I know bullshit and corruption when I hear it.

Maybe I should have played their game. Maybe I should have bought them off. Maybe I would now have a completely different story to tell. Maybe I would have had a more fulfilling life saturated with global travel and groupies. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING...!?

I told Toni and Bruce, a plan was hatched, under certain circumstances you can get a passport without a Birth Certificate, but you had to go to the London passport office, which by fluke is where the last night of the UK tour was, London, not the passport office. A letter was written explaining who I was and why I needed a passport, and it was to be left for me at Sanctuary and I was to pick it up on the way the passport office in London.

If all of that wasn’t bonkers enough instead of me now travelling down to London with Olly and Big Jon, I made my way to London on a National Express coach, no that’s not the bonkers bit, the bonkers bit is that I had a small canvas ruck sack, the kind that you find in a military surplus store, it was 12 inches by 12 inches by 4 inches, and in that bag, I carried all of the money that we took on the tour.

Can you imagine, for a second, just how much money is taken while a band is on tour? Well, if you were in London that day, at Victoria Coach Station, or the Underground, or the passport office, etc etc etc… Then you missed your chance, you should have whacked me and run off with the merch money.

The very kind lady at the passport office said “No.” I had every possible form of ID you can imagine, but, because I’d never “existed” anywhere, they were having none of it. That was my first experience of how the system works against you. If I’d have had debts, or I’d been to prison, or any criminal record for that matter, it would have been easy to prove who I was, because I’d never done anything illegal, I’d never had debts, any job I’d had paid cash every Friday, like everyone in the UK at that time, so I couldn’t prove who I was.

I told the very kind lady this was a dream job, a once in a lifetime opportunity, she even knew who Maiden and Bruce were, but still said “No.” Rules are rules. Somewhere, something inside snapped, I look back now, and I realise that maybe that’s when I started to feel bitter and twisted towards, the system, life, rules, regulations…

At the venue I told Toni and Bruce, they seemed more disappointed than me.

What happened to that idea of you running a fan club?

Ah yes, me and the fan club, secretly I’ve always wanted the chance to tell the story properly, to put the record straight and this might be my only chance, so here goes. If anyone needs to go to the bar, then now’s the time to do it.

There are two versions to this story, one is incredibly short while the other is ridiculously long. It doesn’t really matter which story you read, because both end up with the now infamous phone call from Bruce where I said, “Bruce who?” and me singing Cameo’s “Word Up”, down the phone to him.

Just typing that at Silly O’ Clock in January 2020 still makes me smile like a loony. If you’d have said to me in 1980 when I was given Axe Attack Vol I, or 1981 when I was given Axe Attack Vol II, or listening to Samson, or in 1982 when I bought Number of The Beast, that on October 5^th 1995 Bruce would phone me…

Actually, never mind all of that, if you’d have said to me in 1986 as I watched Cameo mince around on TOTP’s in that red codpiece that less than ten years later I would be singing Cameo’s “Word Up” down the phone to Bruce Dickinson… Shit The Bed…

Top Of The Pops (well she seems happy…).

Version 1. The Short Story

I wrote to Bruce Dickinson asking, “Can I run your Fan Club please?” Actually, it wasn’t quite that simple, it was a A4 size, 45 pages deep, business plan (but more on that in the long version).

He phoned me at home. We spoke. He said, “It’s Bruce.” I said, “Bruce Who?” I sang Cameo’s “Word Up” down the phone. We chatted about Skunkworks, Maiden, and why he left Maiden, his wife, his kids, other bands, our mutual interests, the stuff you would basically chat about if you were chatting to someone at a super market checkout, or a bus stop, or a sex party involving farm animals and freshly picked root vegetables.

Contact details we exchanged and we agreed to keep in touch, a short time later Toni phoned me about selling merch on the UK 1996 tour and the rest as they say is history.

Version 2. The Long Story. (Don’t say I didn’t warn you…)

Even the longer version can be extended into an even longer version, it really depends on where you start a story, so I’m going to start in 1993 and you judge for yourself where you think the story really begins.

In 1993 Living Colour toured the UK and I did as many gigs as I could. I did seven out of ten or something like that. Anyway, on April 02^nd they played Brixton Academy in London. I’m doing the after show in the bar upstairs, I’m bored, I’m surrounded by music industry types and music journalists, who let’s be honest, are up there with Paedos and Nazis (it’s true and you know it).

Anyway, I’m bored and over walks Vernon, during conversation I said, “Can I run your fan club, because it’s rubbish?” Vernon, being Vernon, just looked at me, in the way he does, thought about it for a while and said, “I’ll ask the band what they think.” Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I only said it as a joke, tongue in cheek humour, just being cheeky, but that’s Vernon for you, always seeing a positive, always willing to help other people, if someone is going to run a Living Colour FC why shouldn’t it be a fan, and, by the end of the tour it is was on, and contact details were exchanged.

I didn’t know this at the time, when I was getting this bootleg shirt signed on the tour bus, that this would be the last time I’d chat to Living Colour for the next eight years.

The wall at home looked like a crime room in a TV police drama, bits of paper covered the wall like a Roman mosaic, each little piece of paper containing a thought or idea, as to what a Fan Club could or should do, what it could or should be, how it could or should help fans and the band communicate without anyone or anything getting in the way. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…

Hour after hour, day after day, more paper tiles were Blu Tacked to the wall, eventually forming a well-ordered plan of attack. Today Living Colour, tomorrow Poland and Czechoslovakia… What…? To soon…?

I began coping up my notes, all by hand, remember kids, this was before the interweb and PCs, you had to use pen and paper, and then, as if by magic, Living Colour were no more.

I remember hearing it on the Rock Show, which by then had been embarrassingly moved to Sunday night. I think somewhere, deep down inside I was secretly relieved, I was properly miffed that Living Colour had called it a day, but I did feel like I’d been let off the hook and just like a fish out of water, I’d been placed back where I belonged and I was happy to swim away.

I don’t know why. I can’t explain it, but I never did throw all of those notes away. I just put them in a folder. Put the folder on a shelf. Forgot about it and moved on with my life.

I had always looked upon Bruce’s band like Scrooge McDuck and the three naughty nephews, but I was starting to notice something, something was changing. The vibe was changing, momentum was building, the dynamic was shifting, there was a buzz developing, people were starting to take notice, it wasn’t just Bruce and three naughty kids, I really did feel like it was changing into a band, just like a really good sports team with an experienced captain who was directing how the team played.

My mind went back to the Living Colour FC and all of those notes. Um… I took them down from the shelf, dusted them off, I wondered if anything had really changed in the passing years, I re-read them. It hadn’t.

In a moment of complete stupidity, I decided to repeat my previous mistake, if someone is going to run the Bruce Dickinson FC why shouldn’t it be me… What I lacked in experience I’d make up for in enthusiasm, passion and basically being a fan, I wouldn’t come at it from the same direction as others, I’d be a fan, living the dream, and, after all, if it was my dream, why should someone else live it…

I grabbed a pen, a notepad and a pair of scissors, I cut up all my original Living Colour notes and put them back on the wall, I added new thoughts and ideas while removing others, a new plan of attack was formed.

By the time I’d finished, my thoughts and ideas were 45 pages deep.

I did nothing. I sat on my thoughts and ideas. Now I had a problem. I had a problem that I hadn’t envisaged. I was now about to play on a sticky wicket, a sticky wicket of my own design. What I really hadn’t thought about was this, “What do I do now?” Here were my issues.

1, Do nothing with my thoughts and ideas and possibly regret it forever.

2, What happens if I send it to Bruce and he doesn’t like my ideas? Then what? How will that affect our relationship? What happens the next time we meet at the next gig? Well, that’s going to be awkward.

3, What happens if I send it to Bruce and he likes my ideas? Then what? I’m not qualified to do any of the stuff I’m banging on about, I’ve just got a lot of good ideas, I’m a good ideas man, but I need someone else to put them into effect.

The answers to the questions were, 1, lose 2, lose 3, lose/possibly wing it…

I spent the whole weekend thinking, 1,2,3, and then 1,2,3, and then 1,2,3, it’s all I could think about, I mean really, do I look like a Ball Room Dancer (don’t answer that) and in the end, I just thought, you know something, what’s the worst thing that could happen…

On Monday 02^nd October 1995 I walked to my local post office, plonked a stamp on the envelope, I stood there holding envelope, should I post it, I mean really. Should I post it?

I did, and, as soon as the envelope left my hand and slid into the abyss of the bright red pillar box and I instantly regretted it. What the fuck have I done? I almost burst into tears.

On Thursday 05^th October 1995 the house phone rang, yes kids, in those days the phone was attached to the wall by a cable and you had to get off your fat lazy arse and answer it, you also didn’t know who was ringing you, you had to answer it to find out.

BRING! BRING! Went the phone. WTF!? Who the fuck phones the house at this time of night? I was livid, I kicked the chair, I punched the wall, I punched the door, I moaned all the way down the hall, I grabbed the phone, angrily ripping the receiver from the screaming plastic holder that was acting like a spoiled child rolling around the floor and demanding attention, thrusting it towards my ear and in my best telephone voice I said, “Hello” (well you never know who’s phoning do you…).

I promise you, what you are about to read happened, “Hello” I said. “Can I speak to Noggin please?” Said the voice on the other end of the line. Now this rang all the alarm bells in my head. Why would anyone with my home phone number phone me and then ask for me? Well, that doesn’t make sense. “Speaking, how can I help you?” I replied, very nervously. “It’s Bruce.” Said the voice on the other end on the line. “Bruce who?” I replied. “Bruce Bruce.” Said the other voice. “Oh yeah, I can hear I in your voice now.” I replied. I then placed my hand over the mouthpiece and screamed, no, really, I did, I’ve always wondered if he heard me. “Hello mate, how can I help you?” I continued, trying to sound nonchalant.

You know something, even now, in January 2020, as I type this, it still makes me laugh.

We chatted about Skunkworks, Maiden, and why he left Maiden, his wife, his kids, other bands, our mutual interests, the stuff you would basically chat about if you were chatting to someone at a super market checkout, or a bus stop, or a sex party involving farm animals and freshly picked root vegetables.

One of the other things that sticks out from that conversation is that Bruce talked about Alex (Dickson) and how it was his idea for Gun to record Cameo’s, “Word Up” which would later get released as a single.

When Bruce talked about “Word Up” I said that I knew the song, I don’t know why, but I got the feeling that he didn’t believe that I knew the song, so, to prove that I knew the song, I sang “Word Up” down the phone, it all happened so quickly, it was just like you talking to your friend, except it was me talking to my music hero.

Days, weeks, months passed, letters and fan mail started to arrive at the house, it was a bit strange getting my own fan mail back and secretly I felt uncomfortable reading some of the letters that were sent in. Most were good humoured, friendly, positive, supportive, but some were very personal, private, and I must confess that I felt like an intruder into someone else’s thoughts and feelings. Here was something else I never thought about and I didn’t really know how to deal with it - and just for the record, to anyone that wrote to Bruce, if I saw your correspondence, then anything you wrote, stayed with me…

But if I can, can I take this opportunity to send an open but hidden message. The Skunkworks CD booklet is different to the gatefold album in a very obvious way. To the person who wrote in, in the style of the CD booklet… WOW! Simply WOW!

Frisbee’s, Beer, and a large night club – what could possibly go wrong…?

To continue with the story of the fan club, because it doesn’t end with an end in exactly the same way it doesn’t start with a start.

In February 1996 there were a series of promo nights across the UK where someone somewhere had the bright idea of giving away frisbee’s, in a night club, you know, where they sell alcohol. Can you even begin to imagine being in the room when that production meeting took place? “I know what we’ll do… we’ll give people frisbee’s… and give them access to alcohol… in night clubs… what could possibly go wrong…?”

On Saturday 17^th February 1996 the band did a promo night at XL’s nightclub in Birmingham. By the then, my good mate Atsuko had sent me a copy of the Skunkworks CD from Japan, because being Japan they had it a good few weeks before we did.

I didn’t know it yet, but I was the only one with a copy of it.

The band arrived. People were getting drunk. A long line of people wanting to get autographs formed and frisbee’s start to get thrown across the nightclub. Oh dear…

THWACK! What bastard threw that, I thought as the frisbee hit me straight between the eyes. I spent the rest of the evening with everyone looking at a bright red mark across my forehead.

Eventually, I joined the queue to get my CD signed. The band poured over it. Turns out, they hadn’t seen a copy of it. All four of them were literally beyond excited, it was like a cross between Xmas morning and pass the parcel as the CD was passed between the band members.

As far as I know, this was the first time the band had seen the CD and thus, the first Skunkworks CD to be signed.

Toni and Bruce spoke to me, we’re staying at the Hyatt Hotel, we’ll see you in the bar, in the end we all jumped in a car and arrived together. Everyone went off to do what they had to do, Bruce, me and my then girlfriend Alison, found somewhere quiet to chat.

A few hours later Toni walks over, she asked what we had sorted out and me and Bruce just sat there like naughty schoolboys being told off because we’d spent all that time talking about aircraft… Ha! Ha! Ha!

Let me bring this story to an end or we’ll be here all day. Olly phoned me to arrange the UK dates and the first night at Portsmouth. During our conversation I said something along the lines of, “I said that to Bruce…” there was a long pause and complete silence from the other end, eventually Olly asked, “When did you speak to Bruce?” That’s when I told Olly what had been going on. Olly being Olly was completely unfazed by it all.

The UK tour came and went and while all of that was going Olly told me about a girl named “Skunk” who had a Bruce site, which she was running from her bedroom up in Scotland somewhere. Eventually I found her site and it was stunning. It was pretty much everything I’d been banging on about. We mentioned her site to Bruce and basically said, you need to find this girl and give her the job. There I was banging on about what we could and should be doing and there she was actually doing it. It was the future, and I knew it.

In 2008 I was at a London Premier of “Flight 666” and my mate Jason kind of pointed at a girl handing out tickets and said something along the lines of, “Scottish bird”… “Sarah”… “Skunk”… and I’m thinking, no, it couldn’t be… could it…

After the film, I went up to the girl and introduced myself. Actually, what happened was, I was in the lobby of the cinema trying to remove a 60x40 fly poster from a frame on the wall. While I struggling to steal the poster from the frame, I mean, find it before it was lost, I was suddenly aware of someone behind me and to my right doing something near the main entrance, it was the girl from earlier, so I walked over to her.

“Excuse me,” I said, “May I introduce myself please? My name is Noggin.” She looked at me completely blank. “As in, “Olly and Noggin’s Tour Diary””. I continued. Her face lit up with a huge smile, “I OWE YOU MY JOB!” She blurted out. I laughed, “Well you owe it to Olly really” I replied. I just loved how humble she was.

Strange, but after that, I felt I’d got some kind of closure to the whole story.

I hope I haven’t rambled on too much and as silly as this might read, thank you for letting me have the chance to tell the story and put a few ghosts to rest.

Chris, good luck with editing that down. Ha! Ha! Ha!

And while I remember, just for the record, no matter what you get told, it was me that decided to call the Bruce Dickinson FC the “Killer Clowns”. That’s really pissed me off over the years.

A poster/flyer that I designed one day while bored.

What did you think when you first heard the Skunkworks album?

That the post had arrived. Ha! Ha! Ha!

Atsuko had sent me a copy from Japan. For whatever reason Japan just seems to get everything a few weeks before Europe and better versions too, extra tracks, different covers, stickers, you name it, they seem to get it.

Note the difference in the two extra tracks and the difference in the sequencing.

What did I think of the music? That the future had arrived.

I really did think that this was going to be the start of something new. It was just like finding a spaceship had landed in your front garden overnight.

It was so different, fresh, unique, there was absolutely nothing like it.

I remember at the time stumbling into a band called “Honeycrack” who had released an album called “Prozac” and even though Honeycrack and Skunkworks sounded nothing like each other they were exactly the same, while being completely different. It was a vibe thing. Neither band knew of each other, I know, because I asked, and here they were, doing the exact same different thing.

What a band. What an album.

It reminded me of the NWOBHM there is no way that Saxon, Def Lep, Maiden etc could have known of each other, yet there they were, all doing the same thing while being completely different.

Electronic music, OMD, Human League, Depeche Mode, Gary Newman, they couldn’t have known about each other, and yet there they were all doing the same thing while being completely different.

It’s a vibe thing, there is something in the air, it something you just can’t put your finger on. It’s a bit like that running theme in Close Encounters when they all start having visions of the mountain and then draw it, paint it, make models of it, get drawn to visit it. You just can’t explain it. Well not properly anyway.

To me Skunkworks was that, it reinforced my love of Honeycrack who in turn made me crave Skunkworks. It made me believe that something special was happening and by fluke I’d found myself right at the start of it. I was in the eye of the storm.

Skunkworks and Honeycrack only released one album each, both in 1996, there was nothing like it then and there has been nothing like it since. Disagree? Then prove me wrong. Go for it. Or “Go Away” (see what I did there?).

I wonder what happened to Samantha Pope?

What do you mean, that doesn’t make sense…? Let me try to explain it this way. Bruce recorded two albums before Balls To Picasso, both of them were scrapped. Those two albums became known as the lost Olsen and Tsangarides albums. Those tracks were later released as B Sides to singles.

At the time Bruce said that once he’d recorded those records, he couldn’t go back to Iron Maiden. He’d opened Pandora’s Box. Not only was Schrodinger’s Cat alive and well… it was chasing mice around the room.

Bruce leaves Iron Maiden and then releases Ball To Picasso, well that simply doesn’t make sense. Whatever you think of Balls To Picasso, you can think it’s the greatest thing to be pressed into plastic, but there is nothing special or different about it whatsoever, it is bland, predictable and straight down the line, he doesn’t need to leave Iron Maiden to release Balls To Picasso.

Skunkworks however is a different thing altogether, it’s completely off the wall, completely different, it is from so far left of centre, that it’s beyond Jazz. Leaving Iron Maiden to release this makes complete sense.

Be in Iron Maiden, release Balls To Picasso, stay in Iron Maiden. Easy.

Be in Iron Maiden, release Skunkworks, stay in Iron Maiden. Impossible.

I know it, you know it and Bruce knows it, that’s why he has spent so much time and effort putting distance between himself and Skunkworks. Basically, Bruce bottled it.

And, if, as you read this, you think I’m wrong, then what did Bruce release next… Genuine question for you. What did Bruce release next? Accident Of Birth, which is equally as straight down the line as Balls To Picasso, but with a few very interesting bits, just to confuse the listener, if you put them in the order of, Maiden, Balls, Birth, Skunkworks, then you can see Bruce moving away from Maiden, but if you go, Maiden, Balls, Skunkworks, Birth, you can see Bruce moving back.

Bruce bottled it.

Right, now where exactly did I put my tin hat?

INCOMING!...

What's your favourite/least favourite song from it and why?

Personally, I don’t think that there is a bad track on the album. The flip side is that I don’t have a favourite track either. Having said that, I’ve always wondered why “Solar Confinement” wasn’t a single. It so rocks, it does exactly what is says on the tin, it does exactly what a good single should do.

Ask someone to explain ABBA’s “Waterloo”. Never mind that, try and explain it yourself. Why and how does “Waterloo” rock? It just does. I’m not helping, am I?

Any other comments you'd like to make or questions you'd like to ask?

When Skunkworks ended, why didn’t you carry on with a different singer?

What are you doing these days?

I’m an HGV Driver working in the events industry, so I do normal gigs and corporate gigs. I never thought I’d say this but, corporate gigs are much more fun.

Living the dream. Wembley Stadium, my truck, Eagles load out. A cup of tea and plenty kinky fuckery.

Who are Olly and Big Jon?

I asked my daughter Anna to proofread what I’d written, knowing that she knew nothing about Skunkworks, she would see things I hadn’t noticed. I was right. She asked one question. Who are Olly and Big Jon, are they in the band, because you mention them a lot?

Olly and Big Jon are the two people I travelled around the country with seeing as many Bruce solo gigs as we could.

I’d only met them the year before at an Iron Maiden gig. Manchester, G-MEX, Wednesday, 19^th May 1993.

I hadn’t got a ticket for the gig, I just rocked up with the intention of buying one off a tout which is always the cheapest way to buy a ticket for a gig (no booking fees or P&Ps), so I walked around the venue to check out what was happening, when who should I bump into but Gary Blick, “Noggin” shouted Gaz, “Blicky” I replied, “What the hell are you doing here?” We chatted and that’s when he introduced me to Olly and Big Jon. The rest as they say is history. Turns out that we had done a few gigs on that Maiden tour but had missed meeting and we would all be doing the NEC in a few days’ time, but there were adventures to be had before then.

As we chatted I mentioned that I hadn’t got a ticket, I was going to buy one off a ticket tout, as ticket touts were the way forward, a way to save money, I’m not sure to this day that I convinced anyone, but I’m right and people just need to deal with it, anyway I went for a walk around the venue to see if any touts had arrived, when who should I bump into but a member of the Maiden crew who had worked the Living Colour UK tour earlier in the year which I followed around the country, (see fan club answer) greeting were exchanged and I asked if he’d seen any touts as I wanted to buy a ticket. “Have this one on me,” he said, promptly whipping out a wad of tickets, ripping two off and handing them to me. “Thank you, but I only need one ticket, how much do you want for them?”

I hadn’t understood, he had given me two complimentary tickets and basically said, find someone to share the evening with.

I continued my walk around the venue ending up back with Gaz, Olly and Big Jon. I showed them the tickets. They just scratched their heads in disbelief.

Complimentary ticket and pass which meant I did Heaven Can Wait for the first time and the after-show meet and greet too.

Sometime later me and Olly went for a walk around the front of the building, to this day I can’t remember why, we just did, and that is when we bumped into a ticket tout, “Buy or sell, buy or sell…” said the tout, “Out of curiosity, what have you got and how much?” I asked. “I don’t know” said the tout, “I’ve just been handed this envelope I don’t even know what’s inside it” he continued, we stood there watching the ticket tout open the envelope, two tickets and two passes… I looked at Olly, Olly looked at me.

I can’t remember what we paid for them, but it wasn’t much, it barely covered the cost of the ticket, but the way we looked at it was, we now had a Maiden pass and an extra ticket, or in my case two extra tickets.

Once inside the venue we asked what access our passes were, “VIP” was the answer. I looked at Olly. Olly looked at me. GULP!

So, there you have it, that’s how I met Olly and Big Jon and, that was also the night I also got to do “Heaven Can Wait” for the first time and then meet the band at an after show meet and greet, which is where I met Atsuko Fujino who had travelled over from Japan.

It was also the night I asked Bruce about the missing album that was reviewed in Metal Hammer or KERRANG! while Maiden were on tour in the USA in 1992 “Good spot” said Bruce, and it was also the night I gave Bruce a Kinder Egg fencing Pink Panther.

A complete set of Kinder Egg Pink Panthers.

Olly gave me a life home that night and a lifelong friendship was born. The following night I saw Terrorvision play Birmingham and the following night I meet up with Gaz, Olly and Big Jon at the NEC where we used our passes from Manchester to do “Heaven Can Wait” again.

But all of those stories, like Heaven, can wait for another day… See what I did there? Tell your friends, I’m here all week and don’t forget to tip your waitress…

Strange how life works, if I hadn’t gone to that Manchester gig, and I wasn’t going to go, it was a last minute thing, I just thought, why not, what’s the worst thing that could happen, I wouldn’t have bumped into Gaz, I wouldn’t have met Olly and Big Jon, we wouldn’t have done all of those gigs, we wouldn’t have had all of those adventures, or stories to tell, the 19^th May 1993 has a lot to answer for, as does the 19^th May 2001 because that was the day my daughter was born. Strange how life works.

In a flash of inspiration, I wrote this down and then printed it up. I’m proud of this, it even got a mention in a live review, I wish that I sill had a copy of the review.

Noggin xx

Links to Inside The Skunkworks Machine and previous Blogs by Chris Dale and myself.