Earl days.

 

So I started at Arsenal. I was billed as a promising young striker. This was the Sixties you understand. Lots of things were happening. Michael Caine was a big star, so was Georgie Best, David Bailey was taking pictures of all the beautiful people. Class barriers were breaking down….well not really….same bunch still owned the shop but it was an advantage to have a working class accent. 

I bought a nice car and a flat for mum. Got my picture in the papers. Hung around with pop stars. That must have been when I first met Simon….Rediffusion studios… Ready Steady Go. I gave him a lift to the Scotch, St.James after if I remember right where we sat watching the dancers. Mostly Swedish models….there was Britt Eklands everywhere in them, I mean those, days. Most of them got snapped up by Rod Stewart and Keith Moon but there was plenty to go round.

Simon was writing record reviews for the New Musical Express and talking himself into a DJ job at Radio Caroline. He had his foot well in the door. There were no flies on Simon.

Me? I was serious about football. Well I think I was but late nights took their toll. I’d get bollockings for missing training sessions ….started taking Purple Hearts and Dexies to keep up. Wasn’t long before I was flogging them to the rest of the team. Until I got nicked.

Don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Part of the narrating process I suppose. Keep the storyline going.