My girlfriends and other animals

          Fiddler’s parents were away caravanning for two weeks and a few select guests were invited round for an evening of Sham 69 and the Angelic Upstarts. Before my lavatory flusher friend Wayne had left school I wouldn’t even have heard about Fiddler’s party let alone get an invite, but obviously my new haircut, loss of milk bottles and newly acquired dramatic confidence had begun to open new doors.

Who was I kidding? The only reason I was allowed within a two mile radius of

Fiddler’s soiree was entirely down to Gillian, wondrous slow motion Gillian who had inexplicably persuaded Fiddler that I was almost human and might be kind of fun to have around. Fiddler was a hard as nails piss off punk rocker which was a bit of luck because so was I, in a kind of new romantic ,jazz funkster Leroy from Fame sort of way. The minute Gillian told me I was invited I asked mother if she’d buy me a Sex Pistols single.

‘A sex what dear’?

‘Pistols Mother. It’s a band we’re studying in music. Mrs Catchpole says it could be the difference between winning or losing chorister of the year.’

How on earth I managed to get a copy is still a mystery. Having picked up six

Coffee and Walnut cakes and two multi packs of beige braided pants from British Home Stores Mother strolled purposefully into HMV and summoned the nearest unsuspecting store assistant and proceeded to enquire as to the availability of a single by a group that had Sex and Piss in its title. To Mother’s eternal credit I was presented with ‘Friggin in the Riggin’ and quickly tucked it into the sleeve of my Disco Inferno LP away from Fathers gaze. Late at night when Mother was absorbed in last February’s copy of Readers Digest  and Father had nodded off to radio Luxembourg I would retrieve my anti establishment vinyl of filth and slip it onto my high fidelity turn table. Head phones the size of saucepans with sliding volume controls on each ear allowed me my own private comfort and the chance to dream of Fiddlers party, slow dances with slow motion Gillian and whispered moments of sweet cherub promises. Sidney Vicious also serenaded me with soft sweet tales about a Captain with a daughter who fell in deep sea water delighted squeals revealed that eels had found 'er sexual quarters.

My leg warmers really had to go.