I had a pretty BIG weekend with some old schoolmates and my brother, in our old stomping ground.
THIS POST HAS PICTURES THAT ARE NOT SAFE FOR WORK.
You see, it all started off very civilised; me, Shez, Guy, Lemmy, Nick and Glenn getting together and going to The Queen’s Head which was our local 1983 – 93, while we were at school and afterwards, before that scuzzy old pub gets demolished (no doubt to make way for a new anonymous brewery-standard bop’n’bonk where teenagers in hoodies glower and slouch to ear-splitting “rap” music while texting each other to arrange their next happy-slapping victim).
That pub saw our courtships, our exam results, our disagreements and drunken excesses; my band The Lucies played there a couple of times; I went there to announce to the lads I’d successfully seduced Sandeep, the sexy Punjabi schoolgirl who worked in the shoeshop; any time you fancied a pint, you could guarantee that at least one of your mates would be in there. So it seemed only right to see it off in style. As you can see, the Big Night Out began in proper sober style with Glenn, Guy and Nick having a civilised discussion about mortgages and the tax hit of company cars .
However, after a few cheap Guinnesses, 11 o’clock came round and we paid our £2 to get into the punk/ metal disco in the other room. The sounds were disturbingly modern, and the youngsters were doing some kind of jerky dance completely unrelated to the classic Pogo or Kick, so we requested some Stiff Little Fingers and Sex Pistols and strutted our stuff. We were not joined on the dancefloor, presumably because the new generation of locals preferred to watch and learn. The way they smiled to each other and pointed showed how impressed they were. This pic shows Glenn perspiring as he generously introduces their hungry minds to their punk heritage.
Lemmy has some spectacular body modifications in the pubic area, and wasn’t bashful about showing them to us. But then, the Queen’s Head isn’t a place for standing on ceremony. The lump you see on his dick is actually four large teflon balls implanted under the skin of the shaft of the penis, which move around independently. That’s three Prince Albert rings and five scrotal rings you can count there. Shez went with him for the last Albert and videoed it. Lemmy had an out-of-body experience; the video tilts violently as Shez tried valiantly not to pass out.
Amazingly, we bumped into someone that one of our gang lost their virginity to in a municipal playpark in 1983. That required a few more rounds to toast the loss of innocence, strange co-incidence, and council recreational facilities. Later on, in the Curry House, mortgages and taxes are forgotten as conversational gambits, as emotion takes over and every one loves each other very much. Rachel, Guy, Beckie and Nick are pictured here, all tired and emotional.
It would be nice to report that the rest of us (after staying up drinking, smoking and desperately attempting to inflate airbeds until 4 a.m.) looked better than Shez did on first arriving downstairs the next morning. It would be untrue, however.
Until next time, gang. And – Viva The Queen’s Head!
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