Punk Journalist

Armed with a packet of speed, a black Bic biro, A4 notebook and no qualifications I blagged a job as a music journalist.

I lasted three years at Sounds music magazine and got away with writing hundreds of articles and live reviews.
I was a third-rate writer but my `gift of the gab` enabled me to make friends with the right people.

I dont know how I pulled it off - but I ended up travelling the UK, staying in five-star hotels and all expenses paid.
I was hanging out and partying with some of the biggest names in rock and pop - and enjoying every minute.

I was `living my dream` 20 years before Jade Goody lived hers on Big Brother. I was taking lorry loads of speed and meeting heroes like David Bowie, Rod Stewart and Debbie Harry.

I hung out with some of my punk idols and `discovered` The Stone Roses - the then unknown Brit Pop pioneers sent me a demo tape - and you didnt have to be Mystic Meg to predict they were going to be massive.

We met up in Manchester and after a `wild weekend` on their patch I brought them back to London - where unbelievably they were at first turned down by every major record label.

I did all their publicity and they stayed at my flat, living off marmite on toast and MacDonalds milk shakes.
We had some great adventures and I really hit it off with Ian and Reni who shared my love of amphetimine sulphate.

One night Ian and Reni appeared on stage at The Cockney Pride with my old mate Frankie Flame.
The Man Utd duo even joined in with Frankie`s rousing rendition of "I`m Forever Blowing Bubbles" - how much would a tape of that performance be worth?

Jam guitarist Bruce Foxton offered to produce them in the studio. Can you imagine if that had happened - would there of been an Oasis?

Things were going nice and starting to happen - and then I blew it - the story of my life LOL.

I went on a massive bender and the next time I saw The Stone Roses they were appearing on some BBC TV show with Tracy McLeod.

A mod a heart I got to hang out and become mates with Bruce Foxton. We partied together, played snooker, shared a mutual love for Columbian marching powder and went to each others weddings.

I can still see Julie dancing with Bruce on our wedding night and feeling so proud of her. It was like something out of a movie - my wife dancing with a pop star at my wedding.

She looked like a Princess in her white wedding dress and Bruce sporting his Ziggy Stardust haircut.

Me, the former Borstal Boy with a lifelong infatuation with organised crime had gone legit.

Every night was a Saturday night and I spent most lunch-times hanging out at press launches knocking back free booze and evenings snorting coke at after gig parties.

Life was one-long party. They really were the best days of my life and the high was only topped by becoming a Dad.