Krusher's March to June 2010 Diary  
Wednesday 26th to Tuesday 1st June

Well so much for my promises!!!! Haaaaaaargh!!!! Once a liar always a liar with pants on fire!!!! Double haaaaargh!!!!

Honestly don’t remember foook all about Wednesday so all I can assume is that the whiskey bottle was out and I was sucking on it like a baby at the teat!!!

Thursday I rise early and prepare for the drive to North Wales. On the road just before 11am and have an unusually problem free drive until I’m about a mile from Shepherds Bush and then everything slows to a crawl.

Eventually hit the A40 and all goes well, beautiful day, beautiful drive. Stop at the Pusedown Inn just before Cheltenham and have a medicinal lager, then onwards non stop to Viv and Storm's, however 60 miles from my destination the Krush Mobile’s gear box starts behaving badly and I wonder if it will make it. Thankfully it does but I seriously wonder if I’ll get back to London on Sunday.

Arrive late afternoon, and catch Viv and Storm chopping logs with a chainsaw. Milly goes apeshit when she sees the chickens and Thomas the cockerel strutting around. Grap my bags and get her inside the house to calm her down.

After a Hooch run to the village and a bite to eat we are all sat in the kitchen when we hear all hell break loose upstairs. Milly has got into the bedroom where Frank the Bastard Psycho (Viv and Storm's cat) is residing and after a mad dash up the stairs I manage to grab Milly before Frank does her any more damage and before she loses an eye or part of her nose. Get her back into the kitchen and clean her wounds which turn out to be fairly superficial, thank foook!!!

The evening is spent watching some excellent films including ‘Harry Brown’ which was filmed on the notorious Heygate estate in the Elephant and Castle and the foookin’ scarey ‘Paranormal Activity’. Thankfully the half bottle of whiskey helps me sleep peacefully.

Awake to the crowing of Thomas as he struts beneath my bedroom window at some ungodly hour in the morning.

Get up at nine and breakfast on the chicken's freshly laid scrambled eggs. The weather once again is beautiful, and most of the day is spent indoors with another film fest.

I was supposed to be working on ideas with Viv for a future Krusher documentary entitled ‘The Khronickles of Krusher, Volume 616’ but as Viv has to spend most of the afternoon shovelling seven and a half tonnes of lime over one of his fields and I watch the poor man being broken by hard labour from the living room window, we don’t get much done. Well in fact we get fooook all done! Haaaaaaargh!!!!

A shattered Viv gives me a lift at about 9.30pm to the Tivoli in Buckley and we get there just after 10.00 and find my mates Dan and Andrea standing outside. I ask them if any one has gone in, but as the doors only opened at 10.00 the answer is no, and sadly due to lack of proper promotion the attendance is fooookin’ sparse to say the least. But for those in attendance a splendid night rockin’ is had by all and at 2.00am it’s all over and I get a lift back to Viv and Storm's, take Milly out for a quick piss and then head off to bed.

Once again Thomas does his thing beneath my bedroom window and I look at my watch. Its just gone 6.30 in the morning and I bury my head under the pillows, groan and nod off again.

Rise late morning and Viv prepares another fine breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast washed down with lashings of tea. Yes TEA!!! I occasionally drink it for medical reasons. Then it’s time to watch the foookin’ excellent ‘Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll’. Andy Serkis' portrayal of Ian Dury is truly astonishing and I cannot recommend this film highly enough. Everyone should watch it at least once in their lifetime.

It brings back a lot of memories of when I used to hang out with Ian’s carer/bodyguard ‘The Sulphate Strangler’ at the Wednesday rock night that I used to DJ at the legendary Hippodrome club in the late ’80’s/early ’90’s. What a diamond of a man he was and I feel very honoured that I knew him as a good friend. He bought me a human skull for one of my birthdays, was always generous with his bags of Billy Whizz and was most certainly not a man to mess with. Sadly he died in a police cell. They said it was a heart attack but I think differently.


I also remember when Strangler introduced me to Ian when I was doing my last radio broadcast for BBC’s Greater London Radio. I used to take a break when the football season started and for this particular show I’d invited Lemmy, Spike from the Quireboys, members of Thunder, Dogs D’Amour, Wolfsbane and anybody else who was in town that day and as chance would have it Ian Dury was doing a pre-record show for Gary Crowley in the next studio and when he finished, Strangler brought the great man in, but sadly he was to foookin' drunk to speak.

It was only an hour long show but my gawd, you should have seen the state of the studio when we left. My last memory was thinking, 'Christ all fooookin’ mighty - I’m gonna get a severe bollocking for this', as the room was littered with empty bottles of Jack, many, many empty cans of strong lager, ashtrays full of roaches, a table full of the remains of strange white stuff and Ian Dury sat in the corner throwing up all over the floor!!! Happy daze! I raise my whiskey bottle and drink to the memory of the Strangler and Mr. D.

In the afternoon we head off to the village on a Hooch and pizza run but sadly the pizza place isn’t open until 3.00pm so we spend an hour in the pub next door waiting for it to open. When it does we place our order and then head over to Spar to buy copious amounts of alcohol.

Once back at the house we eat, drink and be merry till gawd knows when. All I remember is heading off to bed with the sound of the Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars DVD blasting out of the living room. I’d been watching it as I actually went to that very gig and was trying to see if I could spot myself in the audience but sadly as I was having triple vision by this time it was a hopeless cause.

The next day is spent sobering up before I have to drive to Ma Krushers, 100 and odd miles away. Thankfully the car seems to be ok and I arrive about 4.00 in the afternoon. Ma makes me butties all washed down with more TEA!!!

Head off to London shortly after 5.00 and arrive home just before 8.00, get a bottle of whiskey and settle in for the night!!

Monday and Tuesday were spent in an alcoholic haze, the less said about the better.

Must admit that I feel like shit as I write this, but that’s rock ‘n’ roll for you drooogies!!!!

Till the next time amigos and may the farce of the arsechicken be with you!!!

Tuesday 16th March to Tuesday 25th May

71 days wandering in the wilderness, that’s 31 one more than that lying toe rag of a bastard Jesus!!!

Temptations? I’ve had them all, so you can imagine the state that I’ve been in for most of this time... I think the scientific term is ‘FUCKED BY ROCK!!!!’ Haaaaaaargh!!!

Of course having been so out of it for so long, now that I come to write what happened during this period is somewhat hazy if non-existent!!!

However there are some things that I do remember, and probably the most depressing of them all is losing five friends to the stinking rockin’ Grim Reaper.

River Rat Darren, Charger, Pete Steele, Ronnie James Dio and The Pig - you may be gone BUT YOU WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN!!!

Darren’s funeral was the first funeral that I’ve been to where religion wasn’t shoved down my every orifice; instead a ‘humanist’ took the service and along with some excellent choices of words and music the whole thing was made almost bearable, and as for the wake down by the river, well all I can say is that it went with a bang, a foookin’ big bang, as I remembered that I had a firework stored in Terror Tower. I scuttled back home, got it, returned to the river and let the foooker off!!! A 25 gun salute in front of Wapping river police station was a magical moment that I’ll remember for the rest of my life!!!

Other things that I remember vaguely are a couple of great nights at the Tivoli Club in Buckley. Dumpy’s Rusty Nuts, Sons Of Merrick and all the other bands that played - gawd bless you all!

My good and long suffering better half Lolli and Steve had a joint... cough, birthday party at the Intrepid Fox at the beginning of April, but due to unforeseen circumstances me and Lolli had to leave before the beginning of May!!! Haaaaargh!!!

I believe that I celebrated my own birthday at The Monarch in Camden. Guns 2 Roses played magnificently and whilst standing on the stage as the gathered throng sung me happy birthday I showed my appreciation by dropping my pants and gave them a view of my delicately chiselled hairy Adonis like arse!!!! Haaaaaargh!!!! A trick I learnt off Ozzy!!!! Amazingly, still no pictures of it have emerged.

The beginning of May was celebrated in great style with the unveiling of Four Wheel Drive’s video for ‘White Lines’ at the 100 Club, where a great many media scumbags were gathered, but far more importantly a great many Four Wheel Drive fans as well.

The rest of my time has been mostly spent drinking whiskey, smoking weed and worrying about the future of my beloved flat.

Tomorrow I head once more to the hills of Wales and when I return on Monday I will... no I PROMISE, I’ll give you a blow by blow job account of all the gory details.

Till then droogies, ROCK HARD! ROCK HEAVY!! ROCK ANIMAL!!!!

Thursday 11th March to Monday 15th March - HAMMERFEST II REVIEW

Awake from my vodka induced coma shortly after eight in the morning and can hear Viv scurrying around in the kitchen below. I rise slowly and make my way down, join him for a cup of coffee and notice that it’s a beautiful sunny day.

As Viv has a meeting at nine I have to move my car so he can unleash the Storm Machine that he drives. I have to use my eye patch to stop double vision, then I wave him a fond farewell and head on back into the house and finish off the dregs in the vodka bottle and settle down on the couch and read an unauthorised book on Ozzy, which to be totally honest is a fooookin’ big pile of shite but doesn’t stop me reading and laughing at it until Viv’s return.

I slowly organise myself, have a shower, get dressed and Viv and Storm make sure that I have a hearty meal before I hit the road to Prestatyn just after two in the afternoon.

I arrive at Pontins at three, park up and go and sort out my chalet at reception.

Keys and passes acquired I head off to 366, the number of the chalet! Haaaaaaaarrrrgh. I settle in then go for a wander around the site. Then I take a seat at one of the tables outside the reception area and work on my sun tan whilst waiting for Mr G and Sam Hill to arrive.

It’s truly awe inspiring and brings a tear to my one good eye seeing the metal-heads arriving in various states of inebriation with cases of strong liquor strapped to their backs and bottles of spirits stuffed down their tights and of course wearing some truly whacky costumes. I say a few hellos and recognise some of the faces from Hard Rock Hell III and wonder how they’re going to survive the next three daze, but then I remember that the bastards have youth on their side. Haaaaaaaaarrrgh!!!

Eventually Mr G arrives having cadged a lift off photographer extraordinaire Neil Buckley and all round good man Mark Taylor, who’s kept them entertained for the six hour drive with his idea of comedy.

We gather together waiting for organiser Sam Hill to arrive to actually sort out our chalets but as I’ve already got keys and Sam reckons he’s still a good hour away I tell Mr G and Charlotte to grab their bags and make camp in 366, the number of the chalet! Haaaaaarrrrgh! Which they do.

As I’m doing a DJ set at 12.30 in the morning on Stage Two, I’m under strict instructions to stay sober after my fall from grace at the Tivoli the previous month, so I do.

Sam arrives and everything is sorted including food vouchers for one meal and I prepare myself for at least another seven hours of sobriety, that is until I hit the death-decks, but once I’m spinning those magic silver discs I’m allowed to start chugging Satan’s Urine... in moderation! Haaaaaaarrrrrrrgh!!!!

During my wanders I go behind the curtains hiding the main stage and bump into an old friend, and this is where I admit shamefully that I can’t remember his name, but over many years and many festivals, including the US Ozzfest, I have time after time spent a few minutes in fooookin’ good conversation with this man/viking. He’s now tour manager for Five Finger Death Punch and points out the stage set which includes sand bags, very large guns and a drumkit that has live 55mm shells decorating the rim of the bass drum. Very fooooookin’ impressive, however as this man never stops working and after introducing him to Mr G and Charlotte hoping he will say his name, which sadly he doesn’t, he walks away on a mission of rock.

I remember that Beholder have asked me to introduce them and as they have a new intro tape that I haven’t heard I hunt them down so I can listen to it and prepare my address to the nation.

Hook up with vocalist Simon Hall and bass player Si Fuller. Si takes me to the very impressive Bloodstock van that they drive around in and plays me the intro twice. It’s grandiose yet very fooookin’ disturbing. I hear a voice in my head telling me the words to say, shake hands with Si and tell him I’ll see them backstage just before they go on.

Continue with my wanders, looking at everyone swigging away, rockin’ out and generally being fooooookin’ fine examples of how society should behave and I’m gagging for a drink.

I wipe my furrowed brow, take a deep breath and continue walking.

As Collapse finish their set I go and find Beholder, ready to do my piece for Rock ‘N’ Metal history!!!

Standing by the side of the stage, everything set up, sound check over, the intro tape begins and I stride out, shoulders back and deliver the first sermon of the festival.

“Droogies, boozers, strumpets, losers and chalet abusers - glorious greetings to Hammerfest II. Where on this Tursday the 11th of March in the year of the Arsechicken, we have gathered here today to get through this thing called life... by drinking beer, smoking pot, eating pussy till our gawdamn jaws break, ROCK HARD! ROCK HEAVY!!! and ROCK ANIMAAAAAAAAAL!!! And to do that we need live music. It is my great pleasure and honour to introduce the bastions and flag bearers of British Metal! BEHOLD! BEHOLDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!!!!”

Beholder destroy!!!!

Unbelievably titanic performance of metal in all its glory, in fact so inspiring that when Sam asked me if I fancied a shandy, I broke and demanded a pint of Fosters, I mean for starters that’s not even a proper lager, haaaaaaarrrrrrgggh!!!!

After Beholder I’m on work duties again, this time introducing Arthemis, an absolutely excellent band hailing from Italy, who I actually feel sorry for as they have to carry on where Beholder left off. If they’re going to make any impression, and all in all from what I see they do a damned fine job but on this night they still stand in the shadow of Beholder. Would have been a much better idea to put them on before Beholder.

For reasons unbeknown to me I miss SSS, but I do bump into Dez Fafara and the DevilDriver posse, fresh in from LA and actually looking a little worse for wear. They ask me which chalet I’m in and proudly I reply “366, the number of the chalet!” Haaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!!!

I do catch Gentleman's Pistols and raise my non existent glass into the air and hail their noise as it is truly inspiring!

When they finish their set I’m on.

Krushers Metal Box - how the fuck did that happen? Everyone knows its Krusher's Rock Animal - however the allotted time arrives and straight in with AC/DC ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll)’, followed by ‘Communication Breakdown’, ‘Paranoid’ and ‘Ace Of Spades’ and this is before my first pint arrives!!

Thank you each and every one of you who did buy me a drink and who shook your pants on the dance floor, you did me proud!!!!!

Finish with ‘Freebird’ and ‘Highway To Hell’ and know in my heart of hearts that I’m now free to party as I HAVE NO OTHER WORK UNTIL 12.45PM, SATURDAY, 13TH OF MARCH IN THE YEAR OF THE ARSECHICKEN!!!!!!!!!


I remember little, but my thanks go out to Dan and Ben from Earache, Beholder, Attica Rage, for keeping me up until six in the fooooooooooookin morning!!!!!!

Friday, I awake at eleven and decide that it’s time to get up.

As I open the door to the living room... cough..., Mr G emerges from the other bedroom stark bollock naked. I gag, shut the door again and fall to my bed crying “My eyes! My eyes!!!”

I attempt to leave the bedroom a second time and this time Mr G has put on his toga. Let’s be thankful for small mercies... and I see that there seems to be a bottle of Jack Daniels which actually has about a quarter of its contents left.

I pour myself a three finger shuffle and down it, then espy the bag of weed that’s mysteriously appeared along with rolling papers and tobacco. I take in my full Boy Scout/SAS/Ozzy Camp training and roll a monster, light it, sit down and pour another one.

Eventually we get out of the chalet and if you expect me to remember anything, you’re having a laaaaaarff!!!

What I do remember was having a weed and beer breakfast with Dez, Phranknstein and Geoff before they had to head off for sound check.

I remember walking past a room full of maidens with Mr G and next thing I know I’m being introduced to Jenny, Jessica, Kat and Beckha. I remember I’m no longer a bachelor and say my farewells and head off to the chalet for a dishonourable discharge!!! Haaaaaaaaarrrghhh!!!

Sometime later Mr G slaps me back to consciousness and tells me that my DJ set went down so well last night, that tonight I get to DJ between the bands on the Main Stage.


I have to work and I can’t even put one leg in front of the other, unless I’m walking across the ceiling!!!

“I’ll fooooookin’ dooooooooo it!!!" I slur and go into immediate training to get my faculties back to their highest abilities and have a large drink!!!!

I’m not required to do anything until 6.45 in the evening and as it’s only 6.30 now I have plenty of time to prepare.

At the end of Solsikks set I stick on Dark Side Of The Moon’… haaaaaaaaarrrrrgggh!!!!

Of course I fooookin’ didn’t and between Epica, Katatonia, DevilDriver, Five Finger Death Punch and Napalm Death I play the entire soundtrack to ‘Holiday On The Buses’, haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrggghh!!!!

Of course I foookin’ didn’t - I played rock ‘n’ metal and I was particularly pleased with my choice of Zeppelin’s ‘Kashmir’ just before DevilDriver came on. It was the perfect soundtrack to the visions in my head as I watched the band warming up, preparing, getting in the zone, whatever you want to call it.

Awesomely brutal set!!!!

Five Finger Death Punch are equally impressive. My first time seeing them and foooook me they hit every button!!!!!!!

As I watch their performance from my pulpit I see my old Kerrang! Assistant Editor Dante Bonutto standing by the side of the stage and I’m like a greyhound out a trap, bothering him to please send me a Five Finger Death Punch CD (he’s their European A&R guy) as people who have dared to make a request whilst I’m DJ’ing, and I’ve gone “NO! FUCK OFF! But what d’ya want?” and they say “Five Finger Death Punch”, I have to hang my head in shame and tell them “I haven’t got any.” And they walk away thinking what an Arsechicken of Arsecickens!!!

Earlier in the day I’d met up with Shane from Napalm and told him that I wanted to introduce the band, but could I be carried on stage on a stretcher and say “This is what happened to me last time I saw Napalm DEEEEEEEEEEEATH!!!!!” Leap off go into Riverdance and the band come on... it didn’t happen.

After Napalm finish an excellent set I head to the VIP Bar for a free drink but it’s run out. I have to spend £3 for a plastic bottle of Fosters and realise that it’s time to go to bed and... I don’t.

Mr G, Charlotte and a reprobate of extraordinary proportions, who for reasons of security we will call Richard, appear before me in double vision and inform me that we’re going to go to Richard’s chalet for a Jaeger Bomb. Fair do’s, I’m game.

Jaeger Bombed we head back to the maiden's chalet, as apparently they had invited us back to party all night long. To be honest it was a great party. Someone with a five string acoustic, singing songs in Welsh, plenty of alcohol and the potential of a fooooookin good bitch fight as something was occurring between two of the maidens which resulted in doors being slammed and voices being raised, which in turn raises my heart rate to a dangerous 33bpm and I decide that it really is time to go to bed.

Unbelievably Mr G left hours ago and so myself, Charlotte and Richard head back to 366, the number of the chalet! Haaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh! And carry on rockin’ until just before six in the morning when after the drugs and alcohol have run out Richard says his farewells. I raise the dregs of my glass and toast the silhouette of the one lone figure standing drinking on the opposite balcony, let out the battle cry “FUCK ‘EM AAAAAALL!!!! And retire to bed!!

Saturday I wake again shortly before eleven in the foookin’ morning!!!!!

I rise like a mummy from its sarcophagus and make my way into the toilet area to discharge my bowels, wash behind my ears, under me arms, the obligatory wipe of the flannel around the rusty bullet wound, clean my teeth and spray ‘Fuck Me Baby’ eau de cologne over every part of my withering body!!!

Let’s ROCK!!

Today my duties include DJ’ing between the bands on Stage Two until 5.20 in the afternoon and then hauling my sorry arse over to Stage ONE to DJ between the bands all the way up until 1pm when Sabaton rise and I set.

Get some hideous breakfast that I actually have to pay REAL money for and get my alcohol calculator out and work out that with the aid of two Jaeger Bombs, four pints of Australian piss water, three Jack Daniels and at least one doobie I could handle this situation with ease and that my friends is basically what happened.

Shining, White Wizzard, Panic Cell, GU Medicine all delivered the goods on Stage Two, and then it was time for Attica Rage, Orange Goblin, Skindred, Iced Earth, Suicidal Tendencies and finally Sabaton to keep us in the style of rockin’ that we had become accustomed too on Stage ONE!!!!

Each and everyone of them, even though I was on my last legs, were fooooookin’ awesome!

In the day I remember meeting Benji from Skindred in reception and sharing the love.

I remember Conquest Of Steel vocalist Dan Durrant (forgot to mention that I caught their first number on the Second Stage the day before and it was awe inspiring to see five Rock Warriors in their patch encrusted denims rockin’ like bastards!) who gave me a copy of their ‘Storm Sword – Rise Of The Demon Queen’ CD from which I will be playing a track on this weeks ‘Krusher’s Rock Animal’ broadcast on River Gibbs FM, this Saturday night at 8pm and then repeated at various times during the week. Boom! Boom!

I remember not saying goodbye to Dez and the DevilDriver posse.

I remember being so tired that I went back to the chalet for a little rest during Suicidal's set and fortunately woke up in time to see the last ten minutes when a certain Cavalar vocalist, who for security reasons we’ll call Twitch (who I admire dearly, but let this be a lesson sir) appeared at the side of the stage, started mouthing off into the ear of Suicidal designer Alan Pirie whilst he and his good lady were trying to enjoy the band and then when the track comes to an end he has the nerve to lift his hands in the air, walk towards the audience and steal part of the band's well deserved applause. Not cool.

I sit down behind my pulpit and see Twitch say his farewells and walk towards the stairs that lead from the stage and I pick up a newspaper, realise it’s too dark to read and look at the floor.

When I look up about fifteen seconds later I can see that everybody who should be there is still stood on the stage but seem to be dividing their attention between the band and something going on at the bottom of the stairs. I stand up and look over the edge of my pulpit and see a security guard trying to get Twitch to stand up, but he doesn’t look capable, I think he might have broken something and a little twinge takes hold and I remember all the times that I’ve done that in the past and thank Beelzebub that I now have my drinking in control! Haaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhh!!!!!

I remember going to bed during Sabaton and finding the drone of noise coming from the stage and vibrating my bed was actually quite soothing and before you know it I’m in heavy metal dreamland!

I remember waking to the full bellowing cry of “IRON MAIDEN! FAAARKIN’ IRON MAIDEN! IROOOOOOOOON MAIDEN!” and think that Mr G is on his way back from the gig and pull the pillow over my head.

Turns out it was actually Ben from Orange Goblin expressing his right to freedom of speech at the top of his lungs at three in the morning!!! What a beautiful poontang!!!!!

When the morning comes, I clean up, get dressed and go for another luke warm breakfast that again I have to part with Doubloons for.

Return to chalet, get Mr G and Charlotte into shape and after they’ve abluviated, breakfasted and given the chalet keys back to reception we hit the road to Londinium! All fooookin’ 260 miles of it!!!!

On the way back, the scenic route of course, we stop at the Pusedown, for medication, services on the M40 for vitals and return to London around seven in the evening, drop everyone off, head to Terror Tower with a small bottle of whiskey, down it and sleep the sleep of the dead.

Monday I’m up at the crack of eleven, phone my beloved and tell her I’ll be over to pick Mental up around 6.30pm, which, I do.

I’m fed, watered and put out to pasture.

Sweet dreams are made of this!!!

Wednesday 3rd March to Wednesday 10th March

Wednesday morning and I’m preparing myself for a day recording my radio show, but due to the previous night's whiskey and weed intake, everything is a bit of a blur... that is until I find that there’s still a good third of the bottle left, half an un-smoked joint in the ash tray and at least two joints worth of weed still in the bag!!!! Haaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgghh!!!

Take a deep slug of the bottle, light up, turn on the TV, watch the news until I’ve finished the smoke and then take Metal Milly out for her morning ablutions.

The idea is when I get back I’ll prepare my show and head off to Norbiton to record the foooooker!!!

However on my return to the flat and after feeding the beast, my whiskey and weed breakfast seems to take the edge of any DJ preparations and I decide to throw my CD case (contains about 400n cd’s and has been half way round the world twice) into my shoulder bag and for the first time, EVER, wing it once I’m in the studio.

I decide to take Milly with me to test her guide dog duties and miracle of miracles we make it to sunny Norbcheese, do the show and make it back to Terror Tower with no injuries or questions being asked.

The rest of the day is spent relaxing after a hard day's work and eventually I fall off the couch and decide to go to bed.

The next five days are pretty gruesome as my melancholia has gone into another tail spin and I find myself staring down a bottle, eating pills and smoking Bob Marley style.

One of the many things that’s getting me down is that on my return from Wales the previous week the Krush Mobile had been showing signs of exhaustion. I could clearly see that something major was wrong with the exhaust when I could see it dragging behind the car in the rear view mirror!!!! It also needed taxing.

But as my pockets were empty of gold doubloons I could see no way of getting it repaired for next weeks run to Hammerfest II in Prestatyn.

It was playing on my mind a lot, along with the imminent move from Terror Tower, getting someone to look after Ms Mental whilst I’m away and the bills! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaergh! The Bills! The Bills!

However things were looking better after a discussion with the beloved Lolly, who could no longer accompany me as number one daughter Brookeus Magnificus had to go to the dentist to have two molars out. Apparently she has to have another one out next week and after the wounds heal she can have her braces put on. Now in my day any kid that wore braces were just mentally tortured forever at school, but it would seem times have changed and nowadays braces are a fashion statement of great magnitude! Oh Beelzebub what have you done? But that sorts out someone to look after Milly.

After a call to Ma Krusher, who said she would post me some pieces of eight as long as I got me hair cut and a proper job (that woman deserves to be made a saint) and that I should go and book the Krush Mobile into the local blacksmiths for repair, which I did on the Monday. They told me that they would ring me when it was ready and could I please get off the premises.

As Ma K sends the treasure in bags that must be signed for I have to sleep on the kozmic kouch in the front room so I’ll hear Postman Pat ringing my door buzzer at 7.30am, Tuesday morning.

The money didn’t arrive. The smithy didn’t ring. Apart from that nothing of interest to report.

Wednesday morning arrives and I leap like a man in an electric chair who hasn’t had the head, arm and leg restraints fastened as they turn on the juice!!!

Postman Pat is ringing the bell, the bells, aaaaaaaaaargh the bells, the bells and delivers the pieces of eight, which I sign for.

Postman Pat crosses himself and retreats down the hallway backwards.

At just gone ten the garage/stable rings telling me the beast has been freshly hoofed, I ask them “what’s the damage” and they tell me apart from it jizzing in the eye of one of their staff, it was a mere £61. I tell them to add 60p to the bill and I’ll agree to their terms and be there shortly as that left me enough money to go and re-saddle/tax the foooooker for six months and also stick petrol up its arse!!!!!

Things are looking up.

Decide to take the twelve minute walk to the post office with the Krush Mobile registration document, M.O.T. and insurance policy firmly ensconced in my pocket.

Get there. Result! No queue, three post office staff and I’m sober.

When ‘Cashier Number 3’ is announced. I stroll in a manly style towards the counter, throw down my documentation and tell 'em I want to re-saddle for six months.

He asks me when my last tax ran out and I tell him February... 1954! Haaaaaaaaaargh!!!

He checks my registration and my M.O.T., all the time taking hasty glances at my delicately chiselled Olympian features, almost swooning, gets to the insurance policy and tells me it’s only the renewal schedule, which just happens to have the policy number on, the period of cover and the issue date, but oh no, this isn’t correct, even if it was the policy it wouldn’t be correct, so I pick up my papers and walk back to Terror Tower understanding why mass murder occurs.

Return with the correct papers, get the fooookin’ job done and head of to the stables ready for a good long gallop to Wales!

Slap down my £61.60, get the keys and return the Krush Mobile to the chariot quarters of Terror Tower, realising that the exhaust might not be dragging along behind it but the poor thing still doesn’t sound well.

However I decide to head to Viv and Storm's, get a good night’s sleep and drive the fourty miles to Pontins the next day and that’s exactly what I do.

After my last diary entry Viv and Storm have asked me not to write about anything that goes on in the privacy of their own home.


Wednesday 24th February to Tuesday 2nd March

Wednesday, Krusher was not well!

Rose like a fried Phoenix, did my ablutions, Milly duties and prepared to go to town with Mr G on something he called a “TOP SECRET business meeting”! The horror! The horror!

I’d done TOP SECRET business meetings in the past, many years ago and that’s why I’m in all this shit NOW!!!!! Surely that’s Mr G’s job? Get out there, lie to them like they lied to me, get me a job/commission/dj/pornstar... ANYTHING!!!!! But please let me stay at home!!!!!!

He insists I accompany him.

Double my dose of ProKrap, have a smoke, finish off the dregs of whiskey lying around, have a bath, try to find items of clothes that don’t smell too bad and meet up with him at Bermondsey Tube station... we get the bus, as I’m navigator!

A foookin’ 47 would have got us there, but for some reason London Bridge is closed, probably some fooooookin’ bastard taking their sheep, geese or people with fucking enormous profits stuffed into their pockets waddling across from the City!

We get the tube, turn up on time and I’m as charming as Princess Di’s nipple!

Meeting is a success and we head to the Intrepid Fox to celebrate! It’s shut, but it is only 3.30 in the afternoon... mind you, Pirate Pat could have been up in the Bird's Nest, pfffffnar, pfffffffnar, with his telescope out and espied myself and Mr G approaching and told them to batten down the hatches!!!!!! Haaaaaaaaaargh!!!!! But in me heart of hearts I knows that Pirate Pat wouldn’t do that!!!!!

We head to the old legendary Royal George just off Charing Crosss Road and make camp. We actually still have another meeting with Roy of the t-shirts who is delivering a bunch of Krusher t-shirts for me to take up to the Tivoli to try and sell!!!! Thankfully he’s meeting us in the pub.

Whilst we gently quaff our ales - I’m actually on Artois 4 or whatever they fooookin call it and Mr G is drinking some ridiculously strong German lager - Tom from Magna Saga gives me a call to and agrees to join us.

Well to cut a long story short, Roy delivers the shirts has a pint and goes off on parental duties, Tom turns up has a few pints and leaves and foooookin’ Mr G is STEAMING DRUNK and insisting that we go to Garlic and Shots. We do... I leave after two Bloodshots and a lager, just after Mr G, who by now is almost unconscious next to me, has the indignity to throw a glass of water and ice against the wall that’s been brought over by Charllote the barmaid to help him with his situation. Actually I leave in disgust, get to the Intrepid, have a livener and head back to Garlics to get the disgrace that I call my manager.

Get him strapped to the front of the No 1 bus and head home ready for further adventures tomorrow.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh LIFE! It smells so good when it’s happening and so bad when it’s gone!!!!

Thursday, up at the crack of dawn! Haaaaaaargh!!!!

I get my shit together for my monthly journey to North Wales. Thermal long johns, cd’s and twelve cans of Stella, one and a half litres of Strongbow and two bottles for £5 Chateaux le Pisse!

To be honest I only get through half of it before I get out of London!!!! Double vision HAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!

NO SERIOUSLY!!! Writing that wasn’t big or clever... and it certainly wasn’t fooooookin funny!!!! IT DID HOWEVER LIFT MY SPIRITS!

Drinking and driving is not something to be proud of, BUT, I assure you these cans and bottles of Satan’s Urine are put in the boot along with the rotting bodies and at 10.45 I’ve got my foot down on the metal and was hitting speeds of up to 20mph when I hit Tower Bridge Road.

I’d decided not to pay to use the congestion charge, as £8 to save two miles and get caught up in the fooookin’ changing of the guard is not my idea of value for money, but it must be said that going via the ring road, phhhhhennnnnar, was basically hassle free apart from the Old Kent Road and Kings Road before I hit the A40 and I was going a frightening 40mph, then 50... 60... And before you know it I’m on the M40 with the car on cruise missile control!!!!!

I foooookin’ love this drive! All foookin’ five hours and fifteen minutes!

Beautiful countryside, Classic FM blasting out of the radio, Milly in the back singing and mooning out of the rear window, it’s all good!

Stop at the Puesdown, just outside Cheltenham for vittles and head on down the road rejuvenated for the M5 and then off into the ‘special’ roads, with views to make your pubes curl.

Arrive at Viv and Storms in record time and as they also have news to celebrate we hit the boot and help all ye who enter here from now!

Drinks, get drunk, animal duties taken care of and nothing smashed, apart from us all, we called it a night. My plan was to wake up have a whole day to recover and then hit the Tivoli all guns firing!

Sadly, we had to go to the village for oil for my car... cough and on our return some magic beans had been turned into alcohol!

Arrive at the Tivoli suitably in time, and there are three things I remember ON THE NIGHT. I had drink vouchers, stuff to give away and a microphone that worked! This was almost perfect conditions!

I look after my friends, descend to the dj cage and let loose!

Great gig!

Well to be honest, I felt it was a great gig! Especially when I was on my hands and knees looking for a DVD that I’d promised I’d give to a droogie for duties beyond compassion!!! And somehow the music has stopped and all the punters could see was an empty dj box with the words “I can’t fooooookin’ find it!!!” ringing in their ears.

Superb gig!!!!!

As I’ve been sent to the front on my own I go and get my money and Roki the club manager, gawd bless his cotton socks, seems happy! And as he’s counting out my pieces of eight, looks me in the in the eye and says.

“Krusher! I fooooooookin’ love ya!

"BUT!!!! Two things!

"ONE! You do requests!

2TWO!!! You’re never having a fooookin’ microphone EVER!!!!!”

I take the money and head to the taxi office knowing I should have a limo outside... cough... well at least a pre-booked cab for fooooks’ sake!!!!!! Knowing in my heart of farts it’s been a BRILLLIANT GIG!!!! Thank you each and every one of you that turned up, drank, danced, didn’t hit me and had lesbian sex in the toilet!!!!!

Get back to Viv and Storm’s, take the dog out, return and go to bed for copious amounts of group sex and drugs! I remember knocking out Viv when I hit him on the temple with my Annna Konda size cock!!!!

Storm gives me a slap and brings me back to consciousness and tells me not only is she a married woman but that I’m a disgrace!!!!

I realise that I’ve been hallucinating!

I go to bed and try not to piss it!

I succeed!

Next morning consists of freshly laid eggs being sacrificed to the great Arsechicken God, and while we might possibly be sober, a drive to ‘the village’ to get supplies at the garage!

I’m wearing my rockin’ flamed pyjama bottoms tucked into my biker boots and have moosed my chest hair to the point of seduction!

£432.50 worth of alcohol is put onto the counter, women old enough to be my mother are clutching at my groin and Viv is trying to get his cock into as many of their mouths as possible... when I look up and the man behind the till, the only gay in the village asks me “Are you buying fuel or just the fuel of life?”

He goes up in my estimation, but not my arse!

I tell him “NO! Still gotta get the spirits!!!!” HAAAAAAARGH!!!!!

On our drive back to the house we pass what seems like the perfect set for ‘The Welsh Devil’s Rejects’ which has a sign outside that reads ‘POLE FOF SALE’ and I tell Viv we must buy up all the pole fof’s we can afford, because it’s a foooookin’ rarity to come across a ‘POLE FOF SALE!”

From this point I worry about my safety as Viv goes into uncontrollable hysterics at the wheel of a very expensive car, going very fast round very bendy corners!

We survive, deposit the treasure and take the dogs and chickens for a walk down by the lake.

Then on our return, things turn!

Turn into things best NOT talked about right now.

This might take years of therapy and very expensive lawyers, so let’s leave sleeping dogs lie!

I got back to London last night and fell asleep.

I feel fit as a fiddle NOWZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzahhnowzzzah!!!!!!

  Mr G's March to June 2010 Diary

Friday 4th June 2010

Just a very quick note to say 'sorry for not writing for so long'. Unfortunately I have never been able to make the time to update this diary recently but I will catch up in the next couple of weeks or so.

We've got Help For Heroes at The Scream Lounge in Croydon on Saturday 5th and then we're off to Ibiza on Sunday 6th for a few days for Hard Rock Hell where Krusher will be dj-ing and compering.

Once Ibiza is over, I'm in Middlesbrough to work the World Cup and I'll be staying there until the final on July 11th and then I'll be back in London full-time.

The Anti News is up and running for the World Cup and there will be new issues every few days from next week. You can read the first World Cup issue by clicking here. It's got a distinctly Sabaton feel to it...

Back sometime soon with some wonderful stories from Ibiza...

Tuesday 15th April 2010

May The Fourth Be With You!

I've got an hour to document the highlights of the last couple of weeks and that's going to be a tough job as there has been a hell of a lot going on.

The reason I am pressed for time is because I am going to The 100 Club with Jamie and Ben from Four Wheel Drive, along with Sara Harding to check loading times, video facilities and other fine details because on May 4th, Four Wheel Drive will be playing the 100 and I strongly believe that this will be the night that they become a big band.

Sara shot the video for 'White Lines', one of the standout tracks from the band's 'High Roller' album and the May 4th gig is the official launch of this. It will be a big industry do and if the band don't come away with a substantial deal, I will stand in Harrods' window and flash my arse.

Incidentally, Krusher did that on the stage at The Monarch in Camden on Sunday during his birthday celebrations last week. I still haven't decided whether both of us having our birthdays within two weeks of each other is a good or bad thing but at least Monday morning's hangover was bearable. For me anyway - Krusher didn't get home until 9.00am Monday morning. I have no idea where he went and I don't think I want to know...

Anyway, here's the offical press release article for the 4th May. Just click here.

Krusher won't be having any of the free booze though as he's compering the whole event. Haarrrggghhh!!! I'll be having his share. Double haarrrggghhh!!!

The 100 Club played host to Joe Perry (Aerosmith) and his solo project earlier this week and what a great night it was. Myself and Cliff Evans were having a beer or ten in The Carlisle Arms when someone told us the gig was on - we had no idea beforehand - and so we took a wander to the 100 and blagged our way in past the door people.

Joe Perry was great but I have to say that I didn't rate his singer very highly. The place was full of people we knew which may not have been such a good thing considering the state we were both in but no damage was done. Not in the club anyway...

But once the gog was over we had a wander round looking for somewhere to have some more drinks and we wandered into Soho Square where we proceeded to have a game of football with the rubbish sacks and empty bottle boxes that were in the street. By the time we finished, the whole of Soho Square was a carpet of trash and broken glass and two very drunk Heavy Metallers being mad and behaving like naughty schoolboys.

Now Cliff didn't remember any of this the next day and we met again the next evening for the Spurs v Arsenal game. And he told me something that had happened in his guitar shop on Charing Cross Road that day.

Two policemen had walked in and asked if the shop had CCTV? They wanted to look at footage of the night before as there had been an 'incident' in Soho Square the previous evening and the whole place was cordoned off.

Cliff's shop does not hacve CCTV. If it had, Cliff would have played it back to the Old Bill and all the memories from the previous night would have come flooding back with a vengeance...

The Spurs v Arsenal game was great for me as it keeps their chances of a Champions League place alive which will mean great business for me. It wasn't so good for Cliff though as he is a big Arsenal fan.

The next time we will be allowed out will be for the General Election in three weeks time and this leads me onto my favourite April Fool's joke of this year.

The following are extracts from an article in The Guardian from April 1st 2010.

In an audacious new election strategy, Labour is set to embrace Gordon Brown's reputation for anger and physical aggression, presenting the prime minister as a hard man, unafraid of confrontation, who is willing to take on David Cameron in 'a bare-knuckle fistfight for the future of Britain', the Guardian has learned.

Following months of allegations about Brown's explosive outbursts and bullying, Downing Street will seize the initiative this week with a national billboard campaign portraying him as 'a sort of Dirty Harry figure', in the words of a senior aide. One poster shows a glowering Brown alongside the caption 'Step outside, posh boy', while another asks 'Do you want some of this?'

Strategists are even understood to be considering engineering a high-profile incident of violence on the campaign trail, and are in urgent consultations on the matter with John Prescott, whose public image improved in 2001 after he punched an egg-throwing protester.

One tactic being discussed involves provoking a physical confrontation at one of the three ground-breaking TV debates between the candidates. In this scenario, Brown, instead of responding to a point made by Cameron, would walk over from his microphone with an exaggerated silent display of self-control, bring his face to within an inch of the Tory leader's, and in a subdued voice, ask 'what did you just say?', before delivering a single well-aimed blow to his opponent's face, followed by a headlock if required.

The bloodied and bruised Cameron could then be whisked to a nearby hospital, where a previously briefed team of doctors and nurses would demonstrate the efficiency and compassion of the NHS under a Labour government.

gordon brown

My busiest few days of the year always happens in early April with the running of the Grand National. It's a case of working straight through from the Thursday night until an hour before the race and publishing as much as humanly possible.

I love the Grand National as it's immensely satisfying to see the enormous number of visitors we get coming to the site and I've got the whole thing down to a fine art now.

One thing I always do is make my personal selection on the Friday night and back it on the Saturday morning and this year I picked Don't Push It, mainly because Tony McCoy was riding the horse and he was seriously overdue a Grand National win.

But I got so busy that I didn't get my bet on, unlike a lot of friends who took my tip.

And the Law Of Sod dictates that when you don't get your bet on, the horse will win and that of course is precisely what happened. At least I had plenty of happy friends.

OK - my hour is nearly up so I need to split for the 100 Club. I'll be steering well clear of Soho Square though...

Monday 29th March 2010

March has been a blinding month gig wise. After Sabaton, Iced Earth, Beholder, Devildriver and many others at Hammerfest, it was Trivium at The Koko and what a gig they played.

I've seen them four times before in very different circumstances. The first time was supporting Iron Maiden on the 'Matter Of Life And Death' tour, then a brilliant performance with Slayer at Hammersmith and then on the final night of their 2008 world tour in The Borderline, capacity 350. I also saw them headline Download's second stage last June which, again, was awesome.

Trivium's opening at The Koko

So five brilliant performances out of five but this one topped the lot. They were absolutely on fire and frontman Matt Heafy was always a brilliant frontman, despite the constant spitting on stage, but he seems to have got even better. I like the way he speaks to the crowd a lot. He genuinely appreciates the fans and the support Trivium have had from England.

Trivium are away now to spend some months working on their latest album. If they write an album as good as 'Ascendancy', it will surely be the album of the decade.

'Down From The Sky'

As well as Hammerfest we've done two Krusher gigs this month and they both went very well. The first was at the Pure Rawk Awards at The Purple Turtle and a good night was had by all. The awards are for unsigned bands and are expertly run by Nicola Crichton who signed up Krusher as awards dj and he rounded off the night in fine style, playing another storming set and keeping the dance floor moving until late into the night.

This weekend we went to Krusher's monthly gig at The Tivoli at Buckley so another long drive to north Wales was undertaken. Five hours there on Friday afternoon, three or four spare hours and then do the gig, try and grab a few hours sleep and then a five hour drive back to London.

Krusher was on quite late as there were three bands on before him and the whole schedule overran so Krusher obviously had to cut his set short but the gig was still good. There's a film company near Wrexham who want to make a documentary on Krusher. It's going to be some time before it comes out and we'll keep you updated of developments as they arise.

I became another year older on Sunday 28th and had the best birthday I have ever had. It was one hell of a party! Four of us started locally and then hit the Intrepid Fox at around 8.00pm where we found Krusher. The Four Wheel Drive guys arrived shortly afterwards and we took a wander to Garlic And Shots where Bloodshots aplenty were downed with a gusto.

My friend Maria Sokolovski also has a birthday on 28th March and there was a party in full swing on the rooftop bar of the Sanctum Hotel in Soho and what an absolute blast it was. I can't possibly publish all of the details here, or anywhere else for that matter, so we'll just leave it at this - it was one hell of a night!!

We were treated to Krusher's Guided Tour Of Soho on the way to The Sanctum and it was so entertaining that I am considering marketing it and sending him out every day to do this. Should be a big big hit with the tourists!

And we have to do it all again on Thursday at The Fox as it's a four way birthday bash - Krusher, Lolli, Pat's wife January and me - and Pat and January's wedding anniversary. I don't think there'll be a lot getting done on Friday...

Tuesday 16th March

When you have a broken hand, everything that you do on an everyday basis becomes a major task. Things like making a sandwich, rolling a joint, tying your bootlaces etc, etc become mammoth jobs but the worst thing of all was not being able to type properly.

It's getting better now though and the plaster cast has been removed and I am wearing a plastic splint type thing that I can remove when I want so at least I can get things done now. Another couple of weeks and it should be pretty much fully healed.

It most certainly stopped me working but it didn't stop me going out. In fact, that was about the only thing I could do properly. I'm not sure who took the shot below but I do remember it from the St Moritz club on Saturday 6th March. I got home at about 6.00am on the Sunday morning after a really great night and I'll be back there this Saturday after Krusher finishes his gig at the Pure Rawk Awards at The Purple Turtle this Saturday night. Should be a blast.

steve goldby

The highlight of this month so far was last weekend's Hammerfest at Pontin's Prestatyn. I wrote a review of the bands when we got back on Sunda