BITS OF MY LIFE - PART III
28 JUNE 2010
I keep finding this stuff all over the place. I had no idea I had so much stuff lying around waiting to embarrass me. Still it should give someone somewhere a laugh I suppose.
Click on any image to see a larger version.
The art of conversation is not dead. Nadia sat on my knee and we just talked about the first thing to come up.
My Saudi driving licence. Note the likeness to the photos of Dr. Crippen.
This document entitles the bearer to drop condoms full of water on those below.
The T-21. My favourite glider. Not very sexy but the open cockpit was a blast. Really.
My grossly inflamed left testicle couldn’t stop me playing for Bolton Wanderers
You can’t tear it up and run off screaming. They just tape it back together and set the hounds on you.
Try showing this instead of your RAF identity card and see where it gets you.
My second patent. Shame Trident let it lapse since all digital attenuators would be mine!
Liz’s introduction to a brace of ferrets. They weren’t impressed.
Heavily infested with kitties.
Liz’s turn for a kitty infestation.
The view from the control room window at Trident Studios. Genesis doing overdubs.
I suppose a duck is out of the question?
Jim Green doing a wonderful impression of Mrs. Overall
Charlie Brown, the dog of little brain
This composition is entitled ‘Spider down plug-hole’
A rat being tickled by a frog.
Lizzie and Basil
All together now...
Awwwwww.
This was either the Trident Christmas do or the best little whore house in town.
One of my favourites.
Sydney Opera House
It’s not generally known but for a time I moonlighted as an undertakers assistant. I won the job against stiff competition.
Select 1 from below.
A Pissed
B Stoned
C Stuffed
Barry Spencer, my old boss from Trident studios. A really great guy. I wish I could get in touch again.
OK, settle down. Stop laughing. No really, stop it.
Bonny shows everyone how to do the ‘Dying Fly’, a dance popular in the ‘80s.
We are the only people I know who have managed to turn punting into a form of warfare.
Pissed? Us? Whatever gives you that impression?
Barry again, with Steve Angel, Irene and a somewhat manic Lorraine on the periphery.
This one is entitled
“Point that camera at me and I’ll stuff it right up your arse.”
The great Weetabix robbery of 1992. No one was ever charged.
Invisible Sex performing at The Venue. Just prior to Charlie Vindaloo setting the ceiling on fire and me blowing up the front three rows.
My brother Adrian (right) and his mate Steve.
Whatever made them think Aunt Gladys’s funeral was fancy dress?
And their wives weren’t much better!
If you recognise either of the people in this picture....please keep your mouth shut.
The Charge of the Boys Brigade.
