“My Dear Boy…” Touring Hazards

Are there true gentlemen in rock and roll?… not so sure about now but I think there used to be and I’d like to think I met the best of them…….

Touring was a scary business back in those days when you were new to the game and inexperienced about life’s little hazards…..

Rock and roll and sin go together (obviously) …It was not the reason we formed bands – that was a calling –  but one of the benefits of being in a band when you’re twenty is that you get to meet girls… easily.  No hanging around with your mates hoping to spot a couple of unattached females who are hoping to meet a drunk…no, when you’re in a band they come up to you.  No date, movie , dinner or.. in the worst case scenario begging – is needed. Girls just sidle up and say  “hi” in that way that says “hi, I’d like to have sex with you , even sex that won’t give me any pleasure whatsoever, no dating or small talk required and you can probably throw me out of your room before daylight and I won’t call the cops…”.

Now we are talking. This was the stuff teenage dreams were made of… say the word groupies and you can imagine what`Jimmy Page was getting  – you didnt even have to read about it….you knew.  All the books from Hammer to Motley were clear. You would get to meet beautiful, impossible to get pregnant, clean, healthy, straight out of convent blondes who wanted nothing other than to be in your bed.

Wrong.

Maybe the Stones just said all that stuff to  wind us up because if not, then why, in my early experience, were me, Idol and the rest of the band somewhat regular consecutive patient numbers down at Hammersmith Urinary Infections clinic?  Payment for dreams was required, payment in pain….. pennance in pain and worse – payment in time….

Look I’m sorry regular readers here – this is a tale of warning, unless this current celebrity obsessed Wi wielding generation have got it sussed more than us veterans.

Because let me tell you, back in the day, the unlucky groupie experience required tablets to cure and those tablets required 2 weeks no drinking.

Until we met Keith Moon, the legendary drummer with the Who, professional Hell Raiser and general man who made you wish you could do more – of everything.  Keith, as we were soon to find out, was a man who really KNEW how to party and such a man was obviously also wise in the art of easing the pain.

Generation X were playing at London’s famous Marquee club and Moon appeared.. completely larger than life, larger than I ever imagined, ear to ear grin, a human whirlwind.  He was fantastic – our then drummer Mark Laff idolised him and was even a little like him and we immediately all fell into a hilarious conversation ….and naturally he invited us all out for drinks. Except we couldn’t drink for 2 weeks for reasons I’ve just touched on…..

He regarded all of us with a withering but knowing look. Oh my dear boys.. let me introduce you….. to Doctor Robert of Notting Hill Gate who will sort you out immediately with the 24 hour cure.

Billy and I stepped outside to find Moon’s white Rolls Royce parked handily blocking Wardour Street.  Settled comfortably in the back,  Keith issued an edict to attentive minders to set Billy and me up with an immediate appointment the following day for the miracle cure, all on his tab…. and with a wave of a brandy bottle and an hysterical laugh told his driver to move on to the next location.

Less than twelve hours later we left the surgery having both had an Elephant injection in the backside – most definitely cured, but temporarily  unable to walk.

We had been introduced to the secret club. I was a little worried when some months later I read in the News of the World of a notorious Doctor in Notting Hill Gate who had been struck off for dishing out unsuitable amounts of dangerous drugs to Pop Stars….

Ah those were the days……