There was this new lad who turned up at a place I used to work. He’d got a job on the shop floor like the rest of us, which was unusual cos most new employees started off in the warehouse and would be promoted to the shop floor after he’d served his time and if he was any good. None of us liked him; he was cock sure of himself and we didn’t like the fact that he was earning the same money as us when he was still wet behind the ears.
‘How come he can walk into this job, when we had to slog it in the back there to get here today?’ We’d cry.
The same lad went onto to become an area manager for the same company within a very short space of time. We still didn’t like him, but it was more through envy than anything else.
(review by marcus peachey n neil crud pix by neil crud)
I stopped necking the liquid gold Carling to keep me sober enough to actually remember gigs I was reviewing and to make me almost human for the next day, so the thickness of Guinness should have kept me upright all night. Should!
Of course, watching Rafa’s men take out Juventus led me into a semi(final)-euphoric state and the black stuff flowed as freely as the gold and by midnight I was totally bollocksed and found it hard to remember my name, let alone how good the bands were.More