I reluctantly left my mum’s womb on a cold winter’s evening in 1966 in Harrogate, a small town in North Yorkshire in England.
I attended prep school where I excelled at Latin and was a promising cricketer.
From a young age I began to spend a lot of time imagining I was someone else.
In 1978 I went to the local all-boys public school, which was to play a crucial part in my lack of emotional development
I fell in love with the ‘D-I-Y’ ethos of punk rock and began to make art and music without any semblance of ability.
I found my spiritual home in The Ramones’ world of cretins, geeks, weirdos and pinheads.
I borrowed my dad’s bass guitar and formed a band, appropriately called 'No Reality'.
I got an admirable 0% in my art exam for ignoring the set questions and tracing the sleeve of the first Ruts album instead.
Left school at 16 and practiced being socially inept.
Moved to London.
Made a valiant attempt at normality, wearing a tie and working for the Civil Service.
In 1990 I returned to Harrogate just in time to suffer a breakdown.
Whilst convalescing I wrote songs and made collages.
I sent my bank manager some of my poetry.
He took me to court.
The early part of the 90's was mostly spent asleep until in 1994 I somehow ended up joining Francis Dunnery on tour, playing acoustic guitar and performing my surreal poetry to bemused audiences across the world, culminating in a live album 'One Night in Sauchiehall Street'.
Spurred on by a short-lived belief in my abilities I formed dark-pop band YY28's, signed a major record deal and thought I could be the new Elvis.
One year and one album later we lost the record deal. I returned to Yorkshire to hibernate, listen to dub reggae and Steve Reich and get nursed through another severe depression by Misty the dog.
There then followed
a frenzy of creativity. I produced over 100 collages, which I subsequently dumped at the tip for no apparent reason.
I recorded and toured a collection of dark poetry, comic songs and primal noises, ominously called 'Itchy Circus Odour'. At this time I was often to be found performing on various stages in the UK wearing a sheeps mask and making moaning noises.
In 2003 I recorded 'Children Rule!' an album of melancholy pop songs. 2007 brought a new album of sprawling poetry/comedy/death rattles called 'A Conglomeration Of Jockstraps' quickly followed in 2008 by 'Melancholia' my latest musical creations.
All my music, art and comedy can be purchased here
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this folk-carol on myspace... Poem 230 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (see my blog for details): CHRISTMAS SUNG SIMPLY
As gospellers have said, Beneath signalling skies, On land dusty to tread, A trough in a stable Was the strawy first-bed Of a divine baby - The forgiving Godhead.
A season for new hope - There then and here now; The yuletide of goodwill - There then and here now.
In respect of this chance, Beneath bright or dark skies, Faith's the star that we glance Attending Christ's churches And trying to enhance, With singing and ritual, Our God-loving stance.
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 162 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): TEES TO TYNE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS - SUMMER 2001
Where traditions are not so rare; Sea, country and works scent the air; A multitude of monuments, Planted tubs and patterned pavements.
The longish pedestrian malls; The remnants of defensive walls; Historic buildings are a gauge Of the respect for heritage.
Wheat, rape and pines in the fields; Estuaries guarded by shields; Long sandy beaches and wide scenes; Romantic-ruin go-betweens.
Rivers in parts licked by trees, Or fringed by boat clubs, wharfs, gantries, And crossed by practical delights - Varied spans, forming pleasing sights.
Fine churches headed at Durham; Football kits ad infinitum; Kept castles - one for study; Masonry behind masonry.
And, with moulding-works out that way, It’s somewhere for a longer stay..?
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 2 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
Once drove an old sedan, up north, From a place in Sydney to Cairns; Then to Kuranda I went forth, By train, to look without set plans.
I browsed through the trendy market, With fresh fruits of tropical kind; Walked to the creek through lush thicket - Nature’s hand giving peace of mind.
I dined in a scenic cafe; Then, outside, as I wrote for yen, Some passing Kooris called-out: “Hey, You go walkabout with your pen.”
Request or question, I don’t know - Assured voices, elderly men. That’s now several years ago, And I’ve seen the world - with my pen.
New discoveries through the power of prayer shed new light on Martian spam ingots hidden in crypts deep beneath the polar ice cream cone proving creationist scientists Big Hand Theory that on the 1st day he made puppies...
[Quaint Victorian dageurotype of Rev.Two-Sheds advancing his world famous 'Theoretical Spam Ingot Whispering Technique' on a primitive papier mache model of a Spam Ingot after Brunel - 1st Annual Dullards Society meeting - Rockall Bingo Hall 1887 - picture copyright Sir John Stalker 1966]
This is our first night, it's a bit of a test to see what response we get, so we didn't want to drag all the way here when we don't know how it will go.
Can't believe you've been booked for the same night, it's a real shame. If we pull this off and organise another, believe me, you will be the first person we will get in touch with.
Let's organise a meet while you're here, speak to you soon.
i am both terrified and amused by the pic in your comment. and here it can't decided to be rainy and chilly (for june) or hot and muggy. i might take northern english weather.
oh, btw, shout out to all the English for the great language. i dig it immensely. thanks, guys! even though colour doesn't need a "u", imo. ;-P
