Edi got himself a room at the Punk’s House; an eight bedroomed building full of punks on Sea View Road in the Bay. It was great while it lasted, ridiculous parties were held and the whole of the socialising element of Colwyn Bay would turn up, so many in fact that there simply wasn’t enough room in the house for them all and twenty or so revellers would be left out in the front garden.

The punks would run amok in Colwyn Bay, and on one fine morning eight of them decided to play American Football down the aisles of Kwik Save supermarket, using a loaf of bread as the ball. The Kwik Save staff were soon on the case and a fracas broke out leading to the eight of them on charges varying from assault, affray and breach of the peace. They were all due in court the following morning, and all eight of them, Edi included, did a bunk to London before the next day.

So with Edi gone, Wayne contributed and footed half the £42 photocopying bill for 200 copies of Crud One. I had just started my new job as an attendant at the Premier Arcade in the Bay and the girl from the copy shop delivered them to the Prem. I felt like kissing her, and would have done had her boyfriend not been bigger than me, ha ha. At last! I had achieved something, done something I could hold in years to come and remember. The zine at the time was brilliant, I wouldn’t let anyone say a bad word about it. With our tips on Suicide Made Easy (superglue your hands to the soles of your feet and throw yourself down the stairs), a Problem Page and a piece on Anhrefn, and lots of childish doodlings.
Looking back at it, it was crap.

Myself at the Punks House