Between the ages of about 18 and 22,
The Wonder Stuff were far-and-away my favourite band.
They were the reason I first grew my hair long
and wore ripped-jeans.
I slept on railway stations for them
and even, occasionally, affected a Black Country accent.
It was The Wonder Stuff that keep me sane
during the long bad summer
I spent trapped on a holiday camp in Suffolk.
I listened to them, religiously, at least once a day.
I put pictures of them up on my chalet walls.
Their drummer, Martin Gilks, died last Monday.
He was 41. That's all.
He died in a hospital in Tooting, South London -
from injuries sustained in a road accident.
Strangely enough, I was in Tooting that Monday night,
and we'd been talking about The Wonder Stuff,
while we sat on a tour-bus style coach trying not to fall asleep.
I'd passed around an old photo of me from 1991,
in which I was putting on my very best Miles Hunt sneer.
Remember kids;
motorbikes aren't big and they aren't clever.
They are dangerous. Really fucking dangerous.
http://www.room512.com/
Sunday, April 9, 2006
Thursday, April 6, 2006
15 Years Of Coxon
From where I'm standing tonight,
there don't appear to be too many grey hairs in Graham's barnet.
Not bad for a man of his advanced years.
As he quickly dispenses with the trademark spectacles
and rips his way through a back-catalogue
of spit-and-sawdust
garage-punk tunes concerning love and loss,
I try and work out how many times it is
that we've engaged in this two-way transaction over the years;
him up there on the stage
and me down here in the mosh-pit.
I can't be sure,
but it must be getting on for double figures now.
www.grahamcoxon.co.uk
there don't appear to be too many grey hairs in Graham's barnet.
Not bad for a man of his advanced years.
As he quickly dispenses with the trademark spectacles
and rips his way through a back-catalogue
of spit-and-sawdust
garage-punk tunes concerning love and loss,
I try and work out how many times it is
that we've engaged in this two-way transaction over the years;
him up there on the stage
and me down here in the mosh-pit.
I can't be sure,
but it must be getting on for double figures now.
www.grahamcoxon.co.uk
No Sleep Till Croydon

Over 4 long and cold
nights in deepest darkest South London,
a titanic bunch of people,
(some in spandex and some not),
reach, breach and vanquish
the pain-barrier again and again and again.
Like a proud child with a wind-up clockwork toy,
for large swathes of this somnambulistic endurance test,
I can but sit back and feel rather humbled at quite what
my desire to put words on paper have set in motion.
I hereby salute you all for your
Goodwill
Endurance
and Commitment To The Cause.
www.blakesjunction7.com/wrestling
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