‘…he’s so fat he can’t wipe his own arse!’

Well, not quite but I have piled on a few pounds in the last few months, probably a culmination of eating too much, drinking too much, changing jobs and less stress! I haven’t exactly gone up a dress size, but I guess at 42 I should be keeping an eye on what goes in my mouth (steady now!). We did Download Festival last week (we being the fellowship of divorcees – seven years for me now!) and on the third day we staggered through the dust in the hot sun, extremely hungover, and one of the boys asked the question, ‘Why do we do this to ourselves?’

And I quipped, ‘Because we can!’

Nothing else was needed to be said. We do it because we can.

Download was on occasion a musical shock to the punk blood that throbs through my system, and I just about survived Def Leppard via means of a Jack Daniels drip. It was only fair to take Tim up on his suggestion that we accompanied him to this Rawk Festival, as he has endured many a thrashed out pure punk show over the years, which is no mean feat for a boy brought up on the likes of Whitesnake (yikes).

So what has my waistline gotta do with this? Well, not a lot really, it’s more my health that causes a tad of concern, only because when you hit my age you start getting a little paranoid and think that any over doing it could leave you lying on a cold slab. Perhaps 4 days and 4 nights of drunken debauchery, eating shit and sleeping 4 hours in 24 on hard ground, coupled with crowd surfing to Faith No More and baking in the midday sun is for those younger than ourselves.

Ah fuck it – live fast, die tired….