mONKEYs fOREHEAd Christmas Special

I forget how the topic came up but we started to talk about a typical Christmas day in the world of mONKEYs fOREHEAd. I wanted to know what happens on a typical mONKEYs fOREHEAd Christmas day so I asked ‘what happens on a typical mONKEYs fOREHEAd Christmas day?’ Bertie was polite enough to put out a cigarette and give me his full attention. Although in saying that he was down to the filter so was probably going to put it out anyway.

‘Well, I get up, open presents, go in the shower and then come in here. I leave here, go back home for dinner and cans and then watch the tele, with more cans. I then add sweets and wait for Skinny to come round’. At this point Skinny Boy was stubbing his cigarette out whilst blowing out smoke at an angle that looked as though it was going in his eyes.

‘What I do is I get up, open presents, go in the shower and then go to the club with me dad. I leave the club, go back home for dinner and cans and then watch the tele, with more cans. I then leave the house and call for Bertie and we come back in here’.

I took from the two that this pub is like a second home to them. They have friends that regularly pop in, pop over, chat then move on. Their domain is this corner and I have witnessed first hand the problems when it is taken. They sit perched like birds of prey ready to strike at a carcass, no maybe strike at a wild animal, but not too wild, bigger than mouse but no bigger than a large dog like a Labrador. But for the record I am not saying they would attack a Labrador. They might, but I have seen no evidence to suggest that they would.

So it would appear that Christmas in the homes of mONKEYs fOREHEAd is no different to that of any other family home. I appreciate that they are grounded, normal human beings. They are not too dissimilar to the rest of us only they have a talent that is extraordinary. And by extraordinary I don’t mean they are not only ordinary but so ordinary that they are extra-ordinary I mean that I am in the presences of true greatness. And by presence I don’t mean Christmas presents, hang on that doesn’t work in writing. Note to myself; do not write an article after consuming too many Babycham’s.

bertie's brain oil

I thought it was going to be difficult asking mONKEYs fOREHEAd about the women in their lives, but that would have been so much easier that approaching their personal relationship together. So to lighten the mood and making following this line of enquires that bit easier I decided to use Bertie’s Brain Oil or alcohol as it is better known.

Unsurprising it was quite easy getting them to the pub. The prospect of free lager, free smokes, a free BLT and a lift and I felt I could get them to say almost anything and before I could get my cars keys out of my pocket we were at the pub. Well not literally but it was pretty damn quick.

I took them to their local and watched from the bar as they once again seamless worked together to rearrange their corner by moving tables and chairs as another collected the beer mats, moving the chairs as the other collected a clean ash tray. And in unison they took of their coats, sat down, stood up again to take out their mobile phones and cigarettes and then sat down again. Once the ritual was completed they both looked over at me to check on the progress of the lager. Due to their regularity the bar maid had already seen them walk in and pulled two pints of Bertie’s Brain Oil and was waiting for my order. I thought that if I just bought orange juice then I would get some stick of Bertie so I went with a beer shandy on the hope he wouldn’t notice. I walked over and joined them at the table.

‘About time’ said a grateful Bertie as he took the pint and downed half. ‘Enjoy yer shandy yer puff’ he added. What was I thinking, I was never going to fool him when it came to beer.

The afternoon slowly warmed up as they reminisced of the good times and reminisced of the better times. I noticed that there was never a mention of sad times. The fuel that powered mONKEYs fOREHEAd was not Bertie’s Brain Oil but a positive friendship. A friendship that appeared to increase with every interaction. One that had an abundance of positivity that was enough to power the band even when they were apart. Whenever the two met the upbeat nature always increased and fed into those around them. Well, those that could keep up with the humour. So I took my moment and asked.

‘What is the relationship between you guys, you know, behind closed doors?’ Bertie paused and looked at me.

‘What do you mean? Are we gay?’ asked Bertie. Now this surprised me as for some reason I was expecting quite a defensive reaction.

‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that’ added Skinny Boy.

‘No we’re not’ they replied in unison and than for the next 5 minutes sat in silence drinking their pints’. I hjad soured the mood. This was not looking good. I need to do something, and fast.

‘Anyone fancy a BLT?’ I asked. And up the mood went. As I walked to the bar to place the order I couldn’t help feeling I had touched a nerve. I need to get the interview back on track, but asking personal questions was not going to be the way. To be honest, I think I need to do a bit more fishing about their relationship together but I will have to bide my time.

well oiled

It is not always easy approaching a couple of guys to talk to them about the women in their lives (of which at this stage I have seen none). So I do a pathetic round up of why I am there.

‘So lads, it has been a week can you believe that?’

‘Very much so to be honest mate, I actually thought it was longer’. Bloody hell, Bertie is in a mood again. Maybe arranging to meet them at a local fast food chain early on a Sunday morning was a bad idea. Well the Sunday morning bit.

‘I will have a breakfast, a muffin and what ever looks like it could pass as an afters. And a straw no van no choc no yeah a vanilla milkshake. And a coffee of course. You are paying for this aren’t you?’ I agreed with a nod and took Skinny Boy’s more meagre order of two sausage buns. It was only when I got to the queue did I notice them laughing and clicked that they don’t do “Sausage buns” so I returned.

‘Yeah so when we worked in the factory Skinny would always order two sausage buns from the canteen. He then decides to have a change and spends the next few moments changing his mind between varieties of deep fried wonders. He gets to the front of the queue and panics and orders the same two sausage buns. But the thing is he does this every Friday’. I felt that was one of those “you had to be there” moments but forced a polite laugh all the same.

‘Anyway…where’s me food chore?’ I got up and returned to the queue to get a sausage muffin. And a coffee. And a Capri Sun drink if they have one? Another wind up I think.

Whilst I stood in the queue I took the time to watch the two interact. There are like a well oiled machine. They finish each others sentences and appear to laugh two or three punch lines ahead of anyone else who dare even attempt to follow their humorous monologues or stabs at life as it spins around them. I do notice that satire is not one of their strongest points. However, I put this down to Bertie’s “politics is bollocks” political belief. This does not hinder their seamless connection like two great minds locked in a genius soaked cranium. Then it hits me. I think I have discovered why they work so well together, why there are no women in their life and why…

‘Can I take your order mate?’ sod it, I will have to come back to this…

various sized penises with a little bit of sperm coming out

I returned to my hotel room and reflected on the day. I was in the ‘studio’ of mONKEYs fOREHEAd and had listened to them create. I could have been sat in the room of a future anthem. It was my JFK moment as they say. Although in saying that people would be saying ‘where were you when you first saw mONKEYs fOREHEAd play der der der?’ so that doesn’t work. No wait it does. They could say ‘where were you when you first heard der der der?’ in which case I can say ‘I was there for the creation’. In fact I can imagine even if they didn’t ask I would steer the conversation that way.

I looked down at my note pad that had no notes on it, so I suppose it was just a pad. Anyway, it did have a splattering of doodles on it. None of which were mine. Bertie must have gotten hold of my pad and used it as a sounding board for ideas and inspirations. If this is the case, it looks as though the next single will called something along the lines of ‘various sized penises with a little bit of sperm coming out’. Personally I think ‘something along the lines of’ has a ring to it, I will write this down. Well I will if I can find space amongst all these penises.

Well I decided that I would wind down with a reflection of the day, as I said and look at the positives and where I see the rest of this interview going. I need to justify being around this band and having something to show for it. I have sat on the bed of potentially one of greatest musicians of our dance era. I have watched hands create. My ears have soaked up note perfection. And if all else fails, I have some doodles I can sell. Next time, I am going to explore the love lives of mONKEYs fOREHEAd.

reaching a harmonious orgasm

…and the beat went on…and on…and on. A few clicks later and finally the beat had an accompaniment. A throbbing bass line filled the room and sent vibrations that to be honest, made me want a poo. There was no way I was going to miss a second of this musical progression so I used my hands to lift me around two centimetres from the bed, which is not easy on a duvet and sheet covered mattress. But it worked so I listened. The band was rocking even more now as huge grins formed across their faces. I could tell something great was forming. The mood in the room lifted, the clicking got faster as the beats pumped out the speakers. The beats gelled together and coated the walls like Lifeguard Toilet Duck coats a toilet only less piney.

The dial on the stereo was adjusted and bass got harder. I increased the two centimetre gap but it was no good, I had to stand up as I not most defiantly had one in the chamber. I would rather shit myself than miss this moment. The pitch wheel was turned to bend the tune round the room on a veritable helter-skelter. I could literally picture the crowds of customers in a night club lifting their hands in the air reaching a harmonious orgasm. Thousands of people packed to the front of a stage jumping in unison absorbed in a drug free high. The hairs on the back of my neck stuck up followed closely by the hairs on my arms. They had arrived. I was witnessing the beginning of something great. In the moment Bertie rose to his feet, he raised his hands in the air. He was absorbed in the moment, the musical had lifted him from his seat, he sucked up the beats from the room…or so I thought.

Bertie finished his stretch and yawn and reached for his coat ‘anyway I’ve gotta fuck off. See yer dafter’. And with that he left. I had just witnessed the beginning of something great that never started.

and if you call it squash I’m throwing you through that f***ing window

I was determined not to have my illusions shattered so instead closed my eyes and absorbed the musical waves. I didn’t realised how engrossed I had become in the drum loop (you see, already I am picking up the hi-tech terms) but my trance like state was broken with I can only describe as a ‘flick of the nuts’ by Bertie.

‘Are you alright there mate, tuned out a bit there. Listen if you pass out your own yer own mate’. Bertie looked me up and down.

‘In saying that’ he added ‘if you are gonna pass out, let me know. I’ll sample it and use it. Make sure you hit that table for maximum bass effect’. I decided to sit back down on the bed.

The same loop has been playing now for nearly 15 minutes. This was my first understanding of not having a talent for sample based music as to me, in all honesty, it was becoming quite annoying. mONKEYs fOREHEAd however, rocked along whilst blowing plumes of smoke.

Skinny Boy left momentarily and returned with two pints of what looked like diluted orange squash. I acknowledged that there was only two and before I could say anything Bertie spoke up ‘and if you call it squash I’m throwing you through that fucking window’. I kept quite and instead ate a mint from my pocket.

stroke me magnet with your fanny whacker

And then it happened. Skinny Boy sat by the PC, Bertie pulled up a chair next to him. I held my breath and listened to the clicking of the mouse and the tapping of the keys of the keyboard. I did not dare say a word. I did not dare tempt fate. But I did inhale sharply having realised I was still holding my breath. Luckily the music creation was about to start. Nothing could break the concentration of this greatness.

The CD tray opened and a carefully selected sample CD was added and gently pushed to close. A pause. Then more clicking of the mouse. Skinny Boy reached over to the large black amp (looking like something from the eighties but I’m no amp expert) and turned a dial. “Stroke me magnet with your fanny whacker” boomed out of the speakers. Skinny Boy reached over and turned the volume dial down. ‘Me neighbours will go spare, they bang on the wall if I play stuff too loud’.

‘So bang back, or turn it right up, I would’. Bertie the diplomat would appear to have fewer ties to this house than his co-creator.

I gingerly stood up from the bed to grab a glimpse at the screen. To me it was a hodge podge of small screens, virtual dials and waveforms. To them it is like a second language, a dialect only a select few have the vast experience to understand the verbal communication of musical greats. Bertie turned to me ‘we have no idea what all these dials do. Play a sample with the dial turned right up, play it again with the dial turned right down and listen for the difference. If there is one, we use the dial’.

to order fish and chips on any other day than a Friday is just plain being flash

As tempting as the wares were, I did struggle to make my choice. However, what I soon realised was that unless it was a pie it was going to be battered. When I looked in the glass of the food display area (which was marked – HOT, do not touch, so I did) to help make my choice I soon realised that everything looks the same when it’s covered in batter. So I opted for the classic, fish and chips. When I placed my order I soon realised I had made a social faux par. To order fish and chips on any other day than a Friday is just plain being flash. This error of my ways was highlighted by Bertie who suggested that I was “being a flash get”. The thing is, following mONKEYs fOREHEAd is hungry work. So I stuck with my order as I extended my order by adding two chip butties with garlic sauce. I paid and left. Without any thanks.

We returned to Skinny Boy’s house and unpacked our foods. Whilst I withheld my feeling of being an unlucky loser in a game of pass the parcel, the boy’s tucked in like they had never been fed. The choice of ‘tunes’ was the Prodigy’s ‘Fat of the Land’ album. The lads took great pleasure in dancing to Firestarter by nodding their heads violently in time with the baseline only pausing to push their glasses back onto their faces. Quite a spectacle you could say, but I won’t. I decided not to ask anymore questions as the look I received from Bertie when I asked if their food was nice suggested that it is socially acceptable in the world of mONKEYs fOREHEAd to dance during eating but not to talk. For the next few tracks we ate and they danced.

No one in sandals is gonna cook my chips

The invite was greatly appreciated. However, I was unsure whether my anticipation of this Northern delight was stronger than Bertie’s acceptance of ‘anything to shift this fucking hangover’. So the PC was powered down, the cigarettes and phones were picked up and the house was vacated. I was going on the road with mONKEYs fOREHEAd.

Bertie called shotgun and took the drivers seat. Skinny Boy’s argument was that if I was to die then it would be up to Bertie to take over the driving as he was in the co-pilots seat. He said that he was happy to be cargo in the back. I decided to absorb the ambiance and push for some comments about their life on the road. However, this was not easy over Bertie’s insistence of ‘picking the tunes’. This became a dialogue of shit, shit, no way, hate him, shit, classiccccc…but not in the mood, shit, isn’t that…shit, hate him HATE THESE, fucking adverts. And then we arrived.

I could smell the fat before we turned the corner. Bertie looked in the window that allowed the not so attractive rear view of the proprietors cooking said culinary pleasures. I noticed that he was not in fact checking their wares like Charlie Bucket at the sweet shop window but instead was looking at floor. So I explored this with him.

‘No one in sandals is gonna cook my chips…dirty bastards’. I felt this did not require any further exploration. Instead, I opted to enter chip shop.

The doors swung open and afford me the hot blast experience of alighting an aeroplane in a hot foreign country only this time had the distinct smell of fish. I perused the glass menu of general food stuffs that was attached to the back wall. The pictures had clearly been taken in the seventies with the only change being that a new white sticker would replace the current one with a thick black marker price written on it. I now had the difficult choice of making my choice for dinner.

Chip Butties with Garlic Sauce

‘Let me show you what I mean’ Skinny Boy stubs his cigarette out and clears his throat. ‘Now have you heard of Orbital? Well they did this song that goes did did doo dooooo diddle id doooo. Do you know the one I mean?’ I had no idea what he was talking about but who was I to challenge greatness? So I just agreed. At this point Skinny Boy opened a draw to get what I could only imagine was to be a pen and paper. Then it struck me, maybe I am about to see their work. The jottings that one day could be worth thousands. I paused in anticipation. Then Skinny Boys phone rang.

‘now then mate, yeah…yeah…yeah…no he is still here…yeah…yeah…purple then went black…yeah…yeah…about 10 minutes…nice one’. I interrupted to suggest that Skinny Boy request the discs and thus my campaign to push mONKEYs fOREHEAd back into the business. ‘He’s gone’ was the reply. A moment missed but with 10 minutes before Bertie arrives I open my questions.

‘So what are your musical influences?’ Skinny Boy is now sat on his chair staring at his computer screen.

‘I don’t like musicals to be honest’. As I was about to explain I realised that I had again been had.

‘German Electronica is probably my biggest…’ at this point Skinny Boy burst out laughing at something on the screen. A screen that was placed in such a way that I could not see what it displayed. I had to find out. I need a new angle. I will shout for chip butties with garlic sauce for dinner. What is the point in having an expenses account if I can’t use it!

in and out of insirpation

 Within a few seconds he was sat poised and ready until ‘Bastard, Bertie’s got all me sample disks, fucking hell. I don’t think he’s even touched the fucking things. Shit.’ I knew it was to good be true. For one precious moment I thought I was going to be the one to start mONKEYs fOREHEAd back into the music business. So what about the inspiration, where did it all begin? How long has it been going on? Maybe now as Skinny Boy is talking he might be able to elaborate.

‘The inspiration, well that’s been with us since we met, sort of what we had in common. As we hung around more the musical inspiration developed with loads of ideas only we weren’t writing any of it down. Just saying we should. Then as the music was getting too much of a balls ache we started on the writing. The thing is neither of us can write or even read music. So what we would do is write it down in durs, dums, and ahhs, that sort of thing. The only thing is we have forgotten more than we have written’. Imagine that, twice if not more music has passed between the two and gone forever. Added to that, I have just discovered their unique writing style. Maybe I am making progress. Could this be the faint glimmer of hope I have been looking for? I am on a roll, I cannot stop now. So I push on.

s s s s s samples

Skinny Boy continues with his tale of mONKEYs fOREHEAd’s first, and would appear only, purchase of musical hardware.

‘At the time he had an Amiga and on the way home we talked of using the pitch wheel, that’s the cool on the edge guys we are. Anyway when we got it back it had no power supply. So we went back out to get some battery’s, powered it up and not only did the pitch wheel not work but you could only play on about quarter of the keys. And a few days later Bertie found the bloody power supply at the bottom of the box.’ At last one of mONKEYs fOREHEAd is starting to talk more. With this I thought I would push my luck and continue the flow of conversation. ‘Where is the keyboard now?’ I ask inquisitively.

‘On top of me wardrobe, it’s been there for ages now’. So what do they use to make music now?

I ask him ‘so what do you use to make music now?’  Skinny boy who is now sat yawning answers ‘now we use samples and crack, err software. It’s a hell of a lot easier’ he gets up and moves over to his computer and powers up. ‘I’ll show you’. Wow I thought, wow. Just like that Skinny Boy is going to produce a single as I sit watching.

hardtimes for Hardware

 It’s Saturday afternoon. Two o’clock to be exact and I have just pulled up at Skinny Boys house. I appears that all though Skinny Boy is up and has been for almost five hours Bertie is still at home in bed. After a phone call he says he will be round in about half an hour. This gives me a chance to talk to Skinny Boy one to one. I ask about the music and its origin.

‘Well it started with a programme we got with the keyboard we bought. As it happens I think that is the only piece of hardware we have. You know when we first bought it we paid for next day delivery and it never showed. We waited a few days before calling to find out what had happened, it turned out Bertie had told them one address and they had wrote down the wrong one, so he says anyway, he always panics on the phone. He sits there with all his stuff organized in front of him but rest assured he forgets something then all goes to pot when he sits back down’. Skinny Boy looks quite animated at this point. ‘So anyway it was delivered a few doors down from where he lived. The useless bastard has only lived in the same house all his life and doesn’t know his own bloody address. That’s not all; we went down to get it, and the house it was delivered to have sent it back to the post office. So we had to find the sorting office, by the way they, the house we were at, they lent us an A to Z. so we finally found it and brought back to Bertie’s. That’s the keyboard not the A to Z. I think Bertie took it back. Well he told me he did’. Skinny Boy picks up his cigarettes and goes to a nearby draw to find, I can only assume a cigarette lighter. As he opens the draw his eyes widen, followed by the abrupt slamming of the draw, a red face and a not too obvious attempt to see if I had noticed his actions. I have to find out what is in that draw.

back to the bar

 ‘Well…’ starts Bertie ‘it’s err… slang for … now then Billy’ with that, what appears to be a friend of the two walks in. ‘What you two doing, who’s this?’ he looks at me without a pint and I stand to introduce myself when Skinny Boy interrupts

‘It’s a mate from work, what are you up to? Who’s in?’ he asks.

‘Just me and Slim were playing pool next door are you coming?’ with this Slim joins us holding two pints ‘nor maybe later’ and they both leave.

   As the afternoon progress into early evening, the distractions becoming greater and I’m getting no further forward with my questions, I decide to leave. I phone a taxi from the pub to go back to the hotel and reflect on the day. When I look at it, it’s been quite a day, almost a mONKEYs fOREHEADd day, I appear to of done a lot with nothing to show for it so maybe it’s not been too wasted. Am I becoming like them? After one day. It would seem so as when I get back to the hotel I hit the bar and leave my notes until the next morning with no intention of doing them. As I try to sleep I plan and look forward to the next day with them. To be understood you have to join in and I feel I am. Maybe tomorrow I can extract more from Bertie and Skinny Boy but until after one o’clock as they want a lie in.

how dare they!!!

   I felt an air of disappointment as we entered the pub. We dropped the car of round Berties and walked a five-minute distance to the local. This was local more for Bertie than Skinny but he obviously did not appear to mind. The air of disappointment was brought to light when under his breath Bertie said ‘fucking bastards they’ve got our corner’ it would appear this place was more of a local then I first thought as the boys have their own seats. Slightly secluded in the corner of this pub, which I have been requested not to mention as further seat taking could prevail, is a quiet area the boys like to call their own, even though we are only in the opposite corner I feel an uncomfortable mood in Bertie.

‘You know there is nothing more annoying then that, I’ve never seen them bastards in here before’. As he calms down a bit I look over at Skinny who is collecting beer mats and an ashtray and setting out his phone and cigarettes beside his lager. He sits down sips his pint and breathes out loudly a sigh of comfort.

 “So it’s been a number of years now you two have been together, were do feel mONKEYs fOREHEAd is going?” I asked Skinny Boy who is now sat staring over towards ‘the corner’. ‘Their moving, looks like their going…’ with this Bertie is collecting his things together his phone, tabs, lighter, pint and jacket and with a majestic swoop almost like an eagle to a field mouse he repositions himself in his usual corner. With that Skinny Boy and I follow and join him. As we reorganize the tables that the ‘fucking messy bastards no bloody respect for fuck all’ as Bertie puts it, I feel that the mood has changed and now serenity prevails. I ask about the name ‘mONKEYs fOREHEAd’ what’s that all about then? They start to laugh and look at each other.

Trip, but don't fall

   The home town of the lads is small but cozy, ‘it has its shit holes like everywhere but there isn’t really a rough bit, apart from were that tramp was kicked to death’. Bertie adds ‘you see he wasn’t one of ours, not under our management, we offered protection but he didn’t want it, so he had to go.’ As I look over a Skinny Boy in horror I see him holding a laugh in. I have been had. It would appear that the humor goes wherever they do, be it the work, the pub or even the chip shop it is with them always.

   ‘You see,’ says Bertie as he pulls in to park ‘I have this draw at home full of ideas like story’s and sketch’s and that but as the saying goes ‘don’t do today what you can put of till tomorrow’ and I live by that. You can always find an excuse to delay things to the last minute’. He gets out the car and I follow. As skinny boy is walking he is making drum sounds out loud to himself. Here I am walking with the mONKEYs fOREHEAd and hearing uncut tunes from one of the masters, I had to ask ‘is that one of yours?’

‘No it’s Orbital’ his reply was disappointing. I had to find out the inspiration, were it all comes from, to hear it first hand from the boys themselves. I picked my moment as we crossed the road, but at this point Bertie trips on the curb of the pavement and Skinny Boy bursts in to hilarity. My moment was gone as all the way back to Skinny’s house they laughed and reminisced of previous times they each fell. I started to feel like destiny was holding me back. Was I ever going to break in to this duo for the past, present and future of their history only time would tell and with an expenses form I knew that to get to the heart and soul I had to get them to the pub, a task I found unsurprisingly easy.

Bedroom antics

   ‘The whole idea of monkeys started a few years back. We wanted to make our own tunes, we would sit on our own at weddings and that and listen to the song the D.J played and say we could do that piss easy, but never bothered’, says Bertie who is now smoking a cigarette without handing any out.

‘Actually that’s not fully true’, adds skinny boy walking in with only two glasses of orange. ‘We bought a keyboard remember, it’s up there on the wardrobe’ he sits down.

‘That’s right and we did ‘cold rok’in it’. The only problem was getting the sound level right. It was too quiet at the start so you had to turn it up andd thennn’ at this point they have an in joke laugh and Bertie continues ‘as it gets going it gets too loud, so we left it.’

At this point I am stating to feel a little in the way, like my presence is holding back new ground breaking ideas that could have the whole world rocking as one big community so ask ‘what would you usually be doing now’ and wait with anticipation.

‘Well’ answers skinny putting his cigarette out ‘we would go to the chippie do you want out?’ as I laugh out loud joining in on this prank they stand up and put there coats on as to leave. ‘You waiting or coming, I can put sum tunes on if you want?’ Skinny looks over at me putting his phone in his pocket and opens the curtains. I choose to join them.

the interview begins

   It all started when Fat Boy Bertie met Skinny Boy and shared tabs, beer and a similar interest in humor, sometimes a bit unusual but never funny. It was quite simply genius meets lazy bastards. Their ‘I’ll get round to it later’ attitude denied the world of true greatness. A catch phrase of ‘we should write that down’ and ‘lets carry a Dictaphone round with us and a pad of paper and make a note of anything to use later’ (with no intention of) would be said in one way or form at least eight times a day. But why hold back? Surely the world was being denied true greatness in these late twenty year olds. We caught up with them round skinny boys house where he lives with his parents.

   ‘So why have you never released any of this great material?’ I asked.

  ‘Dunno couldn’t be arsed’ was the reply of Bertie sat resting against the radiator of skinny boys room. Skinny continues ‘we hoped that if we held on to it long enough someone would find it an do it for us.’ This relaxed attitude sums up the whole genre of the single life of two unmotivated masters of comedy but I was not going to leave it there I had to find out more, to see the scripts if any and to get these guys to open up.

when it all started

So we have dreams. We do all have dreams don't we? Well we did...and still do.

Picture the scene...a bedroom...no wait; let's go back a little bit - a college. Now hang on don't leave just yet, this is not the story of some cheesy college band, it is the location of the first meeting. Picture Lennon, meeting McCartney and then doing nothing for a few years. And by nothing I mean they never met again until the need for money forced them into a factory.

So one of them went to the other one and said "didn't you go to that college?" and the other replied,

"Yes I did. We played darts didn't we? I thought playing darts was cool at that time. I found out later it wasn't. By of all people...the 'cool kids'". Chatter continued until one day he joined the other for a pint. The muse of any wannabe musician. The pub was a happy time. The pub born the imagination and was the impulsive meeting of great ideas...that never came to any fruition. I sit looking at the first CD we cut and think...the world needs to know about the beginning of something great that never started.