TV Cream t-shirt

Fingers crossed, this TV shirt will be famous in a couple of days. I'm gonna take it with me to Dick & Dom and try and get them to sign it with one of those gold/silver paint marker pens (I don't actually have one of those yet, so I may need to shop around first).

I got this made up as a one-off from Kit U Out (now under new ownership). They also make the t-shirts for Jonathan Ross' Four Poofs And A Piano house band. It only cost £8 in total, which is cheaper than most t-shirts I've ever bought anyway. I might start doing this for a living!

BBC doors

Apropos of absolutely nothing, other than the fact that I've just realised you can "blog" other people's photos on Flickr.

I used to work at BBC Television Centre - in the Children's Dept. I'll dig out my old pass from the box, plus some knick-knacks from programmes I used to work on.

Also, watch this week's (Sunday) Dick & Dom In Da Bungalow on the CBBC channel. I might be on it, playing a scientist.

Photo courtesy of chiefmoamba, reproduced under a Creative Commons licence.

Escape

Never one to let an idea go unpaid for, I reused the "let's walk along a beach in a fake radiation suit" schtick in 1997 for an article in Escape Magazine (a now defunct lads' mag from Dennis Publishing).

I pitched the idea to the editor whilst out on the mag's home-brew night (which I'd only blagged my way into in the first place as an opportunity to meet Sarah, the mag's then-Production Manager) and was, in fact, my first properly-commissioned written work.

This photograph was taken by Simon Clay, who lent me a shirt to wear later on in the shoot and who also did the shots of the girl I suggested for another photo in the article. I've uploaded the full spread for you to look at should you wish.

Standing on a beach

Pretending to be... well, I'm not really sure but it's clearly supposed to be some kind of radiation monitoring gear, right?

During a period of unemployment in Aberystwyth (I was chucked out of uni after the first year and spent about nine months working locally and living with my now-sophomore mates in a big house on Trinity Road), I had to think of things to do each day.

Me and Rich (chum and guitarist in The Rhythm Method) set about drawing radioactive signs on the back of some paper boiler suits, chucked on some Marigolds and wellies and walked up and down the seafront in Aber.

Our "measuring equipment" was bits of guitar tech and the rubber bit off of my bass guitar stand. It seemed to go down well with the sunbathing locals until one fella got a bit concerned as to why we were drawing a big graph on a clipboard and came over to give us a right telling off. We left the beach a bit sulky and abashed.

Happy days.

The Rhythm Method

The university band. Actually, this was probably back when we were called The Bearded Clam Quimtet. It was a shit name but better than Pencil or Hot Fish Yoghurt, which were the only other ones we considered.

Left to right: me (bass, vocals), Ad (drums), Rich (guitar, vocals), PO'T (vocals, tambourine - "a very intricate instrument actually"), James (keyboards, vocal yelping when drunk).

We're at the Old Castle in Aberystwyth. I can't honestly remember who took the photo (God, we were there for ages, looking wistful and interesting, lying down, jumping off things, holding mops), it may have been one of the other lads' girlfriends. If you know, do write in!

Also, there was no point in having our photo taken 'cos we only did covers of songs that we could play, and we weren't releasing a biog or anything (and we didn't have the kind of following that required us to put our photo on posters). It's just "one of those things that bands do", right?

I bet we were all supposed to be in lectures.

The Smash Hits Collection 1987

From a time when Panini wasn't a posh toasted Italian sandwich. Smash Hits, 1978-2006. "Killed by the Internet" they're saying. Me, I blame Kate Thornton.

Baby book

Proof I was born. Proof I am a Scouser.

I was apparently 7lbs 14oz at birth. I'm a shade over that now.

My dad was late to the hospital on account of watching the first leg of the European cup tie between Everton and Panithinaikos at Goodison Park.

It ended 1-1 by the way.

Rhythm Method poster, 1992

The Rhythm Method was the second incarnation of the band I was in (bass guitar, vocals) at university in Aberystwyth.

We weren't that bad. Honest.

As a band, we were only ever paid in beer. We also had knickers thrown at us on a number of occasions (thanks, girls). Hopefully, somewhere I've got a photo of the band (although probably not in action).

This was the poster I knocked up by hand (this is in the days before DTP, remember - at least for me it was), which we plastered around town. Note "Beatles drum" hand-drawn logo.

The Bear really was the best pub ever - run by a Scotsman called Ian and his wife Sandra. American in style before chains like Hard Rock Cafe or Planet Hollywood made it corporate and nasty, they'd obviously spent a lot of time on the decor and furnishings. It was in a basement too, meaning that daylight was unlikely to impinge on a long drinking and eating session (Ian did cracking food there; particularly the barbecue sauce on the burgers).

Adam, the drummer in the band, worked at the Bear for a while and also designed the logo for it, which was rendered in neon outside.

This gig, our last, went down quite well. A drunk crowd of blokes near the front started chanting "duvet!" towards the end. To this day I have no idea what that was about.

The party after-show was memorable for two things. 1) The porn that got stuck on the living room video back in our house. 2) Even though I was the only single member of the band, I didn't get so much as a snog from any of the women in the audience. Lesa Spence, you owe me!

Letter from Sarah (Innocent Piglets), 1988

Possibly the earliest documented evidence of the existence of the Innocent Piglets. This was written by Sarah, the singer, on the back of a photocard of Morrissey (hence the reference to him in the opening line).

This may have been written on the bus to or from a rehearsal or, alternatively, on a whim. Sarah used to save records for me at the Our Price where she worked and, in return, I used to hassle her about being in a band. I think, once, I even posted a horrible, emotionally blackmailing letter through her door in Preston, to try and keep her in the band. Bad me, bad bad me.