It’s not often you get to meet one of your heroes, never mind act as his personal shreeve for a weekend and introduce him to the delights of the Balti. But that’s what happened when I met a total hero of mine in 1996.
It’s coming up for a decade since the most terrifying day of my life. Not a week goes by when I’m not reminded of the morning when I was carjacked/kidnapped in broad daylight in the centre of Birmingham.
The day had started like so many in 2001. I was presenting 4-7pm Drivetime at BRMB Radio with my ‘Barmy Brummies’ show, but in order to prepare all the sketches and songs we wrote every day to keep the programme fresh, it meant coming into work at around 10am to do stuff with my co-writer Sean and record it all from lunchtime into the early afternoon.
I have more in common with Dave Grohl than I first thought.
Not only am I a drummer who plays guitar and sings his own songs, but having watched the brilliant ‘Back & Forth’ Foo Fighters DVD documentary the other day, one of the first things he said was about the recurring dream he used to have as a kid where he’d be at a concert and the announcement comes over the PA saying “I’m afraid the gig is cancelled as the drummer tonight has broken his arm…unless there’s a drummer in the house who can play the songs…?”
Been a while since my last blog and a fair amount has been happening to be fair – new band, eventful holiday (I shan’t bore you with the detail on that one – suffice to say that Carry On Abroad was actually a documentary) and a new show time for me on talkSPORT.
Jeremy Kyle is, oddly enough, someone I can call a good friend. I say oddly because you may not be aware that we worked together twice in my radio life and first time round was when he was nowhere near settling rows between warring factions of families happy to air their dirty laundry to ever-increasing audience figures.
A week in which I’ve discovered a new found respect for an individual. It takes a real man to admit when he’s got it wrong, and whilst I may still have it right in one instance, I will be truly delighted to be proved otherwise come May next year…as long as it doesn’t prevent my own Blue machine in succeeding were it to come to pass!!
Imagine young Blues fans quizzing their Dads down the years:
“Dad – is it true that there was a fire once at our shirt sponsors shop and our owners used the insurance money to buy players and stuff?”
Or
“Dad – is it true that our new owners sell scrap metal for a living and that they sold our training ground for 1 pound to a man who flies planes about?”
Or
“Dad – is it true that our new owners sell newspapers with nudie ladies in it and run shops that sell chocolate body paint and stuff?”
Or
**********THIS IS THE FIRST FEW THOUSAND WORDS OF MY PROPOSED BOOK ON MY LIFE AND TIMES AS A MUSO - IT'S LONG BUT READ ON IF YOU GET THE CHANCE AND LET ME KNOW WHETHER IT'S WORTH ME CONTINUING THE STORY UNTIL THE (NOT SO) BITTER END. THANKS **********
Clarity – it’s the McLeast we deserve.
He’s gone then.
Alex McLeish appears to be heading inexorably for the Villa Park hotseat having found events at St Andrew’s post-relegation too hot to handle. Confusion, anger, bewilderment and supposition has reigned supreme across the city of Birmingham since my good friend Colin Tattum at the Birmingham Mail broke the news of McLeish quitting Blues late Sunday afternoon.
So we’re relegated again.
Not that February 27th 2011 is somehow ever going to be a distant memory now that we’ve dropped out of the land of milk and honey for the 3rd time in 4 Premier League seasons. Far from it – in fact there’s a need to cling to that day for Blues fans as succour…comfort if you will, from what has happened to us time and again as a club during my lifetime.
