Wednesday February 2nd, 1977 Today I painted up a white shirt (I used Airfix plane paint) - it dried up at six O'clock, and I wore it straight away - it looks great! Thursday February 3rd, 1977  Had some photos taken in Woolworth's in Ilford - The straights on the street were amazed at my painted shirt - blimey, what's so different about a painted shirt? My hair looks alright, still - short and black, makes me look dead cool, man! (still no other Ilford Punks visible by day...)

Tuesday February 8th, 1977 

They've always got to have an enemy, so - WE are the enemy! 

Friday 11th & Saturday 12th February, 1977 (in retrospect, a week after the fact) 

Here's a bit about the Slaughter & The Dogs/Beastly Cads Roxy Club gig (Saturday 12th Feb.) - I'm using this page a week after, cos I was going on about the posh scum and not about the gig - Bollocking barnacles, what a fucking muck up!  

It was a great gig, although The Roxy gets packed out at the weekends, now - Still, it proves that New Wave is taking off, doesn't it? (but when you can't move easily to get to the bogs or bar, it ain't exactly FUN, man!) My hair was black, dyed orange at the sides, and I was wearing my white shirt, sta-prest, bottle-green two-tone jacket, rings on every finger, oh yeah my watch is held onto its black leather strap with a ... you guessed right - A safety pin! It's hard to write a week after a gig, but I'll have a go... 

The Beastly Cads went down well with the Roxy regs, I know that – I was standing by this tall girl who seems to be at every one of their gigs – She looks a bit posh, but I ‘spose it’s to do with the way her gob hangs (I dunno)… Marco (he’s the guitarist) was wearing bright green jeans – I wish I had a pair like that! I took photos of the band for my mag, then ran out of film when Slaughter & The Dogs came on – Just my fucking luck, eh? The lead singer of S & The D’s sprayed loads and loads of baby powder over himself at the end – He was wearing a black schoolmaster’s cloak – going the same way as Dave of The Damned, with his vampire cloak! As usual, I pogoed crazy with Claudio (of the shades) and Shane (the one who did ‘Bondage’ fanzine) down the front – Christ all fucking mighty, I’m bloody sure my head touched the ceiling all through the gig! (or the overhead pipes, at least!) I remember someone poured lager over my jacket, and I got P’d as N’s again – I should’ve written about this gig on the night it actually happened – I’ll make sure I kick my arse and stop being lazy in future, OK?

I was fed up a bit, at that gig, because most of the Punks on the Scene are rich… Why? Seems fucking ages ago, but I got fed up and I left halfway through the second set, cos of catching a train home. I felt a bit disillusioned with the Scene, tonight, also, dream of change was turning rather sour. 

The people mainly on the Scene are posh, and of rich (or middle class) origin, I am thinking seriously of pulling out. I don’t think I’m being selfish in saying that New Wave is (or should be) purely for people like me, who live down on the level and are forever being pushed this way and that. In a way, though, I think I SHOULD see this thing to the end, as pulling out to make way for the middle class etc would in fact be… copping out. The best way to keep it coming would be to join a band… I’m going to do it – Who the hell can stop me? 

Sunday 13^th February, 1977 

Eater + Chelsea + Johnny Thunder gig. 

Eater played brilliant, Chelsea were ace and Johnny Thunders & The Heartbreakers were fucking 1^st class! Photographers were taking photos of sundry Punks – one woman photog (who was French) took a photo of me just before Chelsea came on, me wearing my white sta-prest, black winkle pickers, and the shirt I saw ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ in at Barking Odeon, back in December. It’s a white shirt splattered with red paint, ripped in places, bearing the felt-tip words ‘I Love to Reject the Rejects (By Their Anti-Fan)’ on the back – The Rejects are the worst band on the Scene - really terrible! Their lead singer, Bruno, cornered me in the lady’s bogs, a few nights ago – Him: “Was it you who threw a paper cup and lager can at me, the other night?” – Me: “No, not me, I think you play like shit, but I didn’t throw anything at you, honest!” – He stared at me as if he wanted to kill me, or stuff my head down the bog, or something – Blimey, I was nearly shitting myself! We parted on good terms, though (probably cos I’m only 16!) – Bruno reckons that, because The Rejects get such a lot of stick from people, that they’ve now got a Judo Black Belt protecting the band – Shit – A private Judo Black belt protector! – Oh yeah, the French photographer took quite a few pictures of me pogoing – I ripped my white sta-prest all the way down the left side when Thunders was on – Soon patched up the split with safety pins from the collar of my green two-tone jacket – raised a laugh from everybody down the front, though! Jesus Christ, I was cold going home – Still, I didn’t freeze to death… 

Tuesday 15^th February, 1977 

I’ve found a great dodge on the tube! 

I get a return ticket from Ilford to Manor Park, then when I get to Covent Garden, I hang back so the other tube travelers all get in the lift, then – when the lift goes up top, I leg it up the emergency stairs and zoom out of the station before the lift gets to the top – cheap way to travel, eh? 

O yeah, me, Sharon, Dij, Pape, Selena and Kay sneak beer into The Roxy, now – they charge 50p a half pint can – far better to sneak in PINT cans in your jacket or up your trouser legs, (the cans held up your trousers by tying them around your legs with shoestrings) – You only have to watch that you don’t clank when you walk into The Roxy! 

Me and Sharon have fun with the Roxy Club’s guest book, an’all (there is a ritual of everybody signing a  massive ledger book before going into The Roxy) – Sometimes we write our normal names (Sharon and Randy Bollocker), but other times, such bog-wall gems such as: ‘Mary Queen of Scots’ – ‘Babanuts’ – ‘Babaslut’ (fooling around with the kiddies ‘Babapapa’ cartoon show) ‘Bababats’ – ‘Jesus and Mary’ – ‘Sonny Stumbler & The Nervous Twitches’ – ‘Cocksucking Charlie’, etc – Names like that – Childish fun, sho-nuff, but at least it saves your brain from decay to write fart poems and loonatic stuff… 

Thursday 17^th February, 1977 

Today has been a day, what a day to remember. My day off from work, as usual, I went down in the morning to do my fanzine at the local library. Of course, as you can guess, the photocopy machine was out of order.  I left it at that, then went back home. Later on (half 2pm) I went down again, you know… It still wasn’t in order!! So, like a bleeding fool I took myself and my papers down to Seven Kings, where they have another machine. 

As I went in the library, I noticed some Greasers – hanging around outside. I knew their game, but I didn’t think they were REALLY out to do me in! After completing (came out on crappy plastic sheet, anyway) a fanzine issue, I removed my arse from the library. I heard ‘em (two 16 year olds and a girl) making fun behind me, remarks (woof-woof, look at his dog collar, etc etc) so pathetic, you couldn’t believe it, I mean, THEIR AGE!! I crossed the road, one shouted “GO!”, and the fuckers jumped me. I got in a couple of swipes they’ll NEVER forget, but as I was on my own, I got it worst. I ran, got away, but the fuckers nicked my fanzine and prototype, still what the hell. Cops came on the scene, took me to King George’s hospital for a check-up. I had a stitch in my head, they used bleeding studded gloves on me! Still, I got repaired, a day off tomorrow. I’ll still bounce back, Ilford’s own shall never be deterred!!!!! 

My fanzine’s going to be started, yet again. 1c will be on the streets in a month’s time, no doubt about it. I am sick, so sick of the L.L. crowd. I got it, as they can never be seen in the day, so those fuckers can go suck, New Wave just doesn’t/won’t need them! 

Friday 18^th February, 1977 (written the day following) 

I’m writing this page because of what happened on the 19^th (Saturday) was too long to put on one page, so here goes, alright? 

Me and Sharon went up to ‘Rough Trade’ record shop in Ladbroke Grove, during the day (Saturday 19^th) – It was one thing after another, a crazy day! I was wearing my usual get-up, blue studded dog collar, tonic jacket (pinned and chained on the lapels), black tie, ‘Texas Chainsaw’ red paint-splattered white shirt, ‘I survived the Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ badge (worn on my tie), white sta-prest and winkle picker boots – the first thing that happened was when we went through Liverpool Street station – I went to the gents bogs, and Sharon went to the ladies, when three Teddy Boys came in with a tape recorder (blaring Rock’n’Roll) – After I’d finished pissing, one of the Teds came up and said “Are you a Punk?” I said “No,” walked past ;em, then legged it up the stairs – I tripped halfway up, cos of my boots, shitting myself and hearing the Teddy Boys laughing after me – I bulleted into the Ladies, and me and Sharon asked the black woman working there to call the police – the police came, saying the coast was clear – One even told us “I was a Teddy Boy when I was young” – Fucking hell, we soon buggered off from that station, I can tell you!  

The straights were on form – gawping at us as usual – makes you fucking sick – what’s so different about being a Punk? I bought ‘Ramones Leave Home’ by The Ramones and ‘Damned/Damned/Damned’ by The Damned, while Sharon got Iggy Pop’s ‘Metallic KO’ album – The Damned LP was shrink-wrapped in plastic, with a Damned sticker on it. It was pissing down with rain when we got back to Ilford, and the night was dark – wanting to stop our records from getting drenched, me and Sharon went into the Ilford Lane laundry to keep out of it – the old bag working there had a go at us, and chased us out – shitty old puke bag! Anyway, when we got home, we played our LP’s before going out – I saw The Cortinas at The Roxy club – Bloody hell, it was all worth it to get The Damned and Ramones LP’s – they’re fucking fantastic! 

Saturday 19^th February, 1977 

Cortinas gig at The Roxy (with Beastly Cads) 

Met Selena and Dij again, two great kids. They’ve offered me to go to a London party with them, great! 

We had a great time, tonight, even though the Cortinas are milk-baby middle classo’s – I took a couple of photos of the band, so… They weren’t too bad a band. I was talking to Kay, Selena’s friend, by the downstairs bar… She wore a white shirt, black tie, fishnet stockings, black skirt and a silver fur jacket (imitation or real fur? Ain’t got a clue, but it looked really nice on Kay) – She was talking to me ten to the dozen, and I get the idea that she fancies me – probably wrong about that, but I don’t half fancy Kay! Her hair is dark-brown, wavy, her eyes are brown (I THINK – the lights are dark in The Roxy, so they could have been any colour. They LOOKED brown to me, though) – She has a great figure, fairly large tits, lovely legs and a beautiful voice – high, soft and breathless in sound – I’m scared of her in a way, because she’s so pretty and I’m not – I wonder what It’d be like to lie in her arms, in the dark, alone together… Hearing her breath, talk, to feel her body hot and THERE – Shitting hell, I’d be too scared to ever try being obvious with Kay, you know, ask her out or something… I love dark-haired girls with brown eyes and rosy pink skin and high, soft, laughing voices… Kay laughs a lot, and only looks about 17 or 18. I wonder if she does think anything of me? I bought her a couple of drinks, tonight, and got her a place down the front by the stage – it’s a fight to get through the pack to get stage-side, but I’ve got a way of getting through – The Hippies are relegated to keeping at the back, these days – Only Punks of the First Order are permitted to get stage-side! Kay’s older than me (me being scummy sixteen!), but does that really matter I think I’d better sleep on it – See ya tomorrow, future reader of this bullock-grabbing Tome of a Punk’s ’77 Life! 

Sunday 20^th February, 1977 

(Last night, dear reader, I wore my ‘Texas Chainsaw’ shirt, my blue dog collar, my rectangular shades – I lost my huge pistol earring pogoing, an’all!) 

Some of the following pages are blank, not because I wasn’t doing anything, but because so much was happening, I couldn’t honestly find the time to account for what I did. 

Friday 25th February, 1977 

Gigs. Full lifestyle.

Fun with Andy Blade, around now. Accident or design, we copy each other’s hair colour… When mine is black one gig, Andy’s is black the next, when Andy colours his orange at the sides another gig, then by the next MINE is also orange at the sides; when mine is ALL orange next gig… and so on and on and on and on… (we are similar, Andy Blade and me – same height, similar attitudes, same background – we could be brothers!) Phun days…

Saturday 26^th February, 1977

 Christ, my arms and stomach and neck and head STILL hurt – Mum and Sharon asked me what happened, when I got in – I told ‘em I’d got beaten up – Sharon said “What, again?” besides sympathizing with me. I don’t think I’ll sleep, tonight – my body is hurting like MURDER! 

Sunday 27^th February, 1977 

Career opportunities, the ones wot never knock, every job they offer you’s to keep you out the dock (yatter yatter yatter yatter) 

So much happening. 

(‘Spiral Scratch’, The Buzzcocks EP is fucking great – B’dum, B’dum!!!) 

Monday 28^th February, 1977 

Damned and Adverts – Roxy Club gig: 

Lately, I’ve been low key at The Roxy – you know, not going as crazy as usual – I ‘spose you’re bound to get a bit jaded, every now and then… Christ, I feel as if I’ve been living for a million years – So much going on, man! Tonight, I pogoed crazy and got as pissed as a fucking newt – So I am alive, after all!

Before we got into The Roxy, a couple of Hippies were pushing, shoving, and trying to start a fight in the queue (usual halfway round the corner-job, queue) – nobody took any notice of ‘em, though. The place was packed – well, The adverts and The Damned were on, weren’t they? The adverts were brilliant, played ‘Bombsite Boy’, ‘Bored teenagers’, ‘Great British Mistake’ etc – I was crushed at the front, people pushing and trying to bust me chest in – the kids (we) at the front shoved back to get more room – Jesus, it was bleeding chaotic! The Adverts have been going for only two months, but they played a blinder – They come from Devon, an’all!  

I used to go to a boarding school in Devon when I was a kid – Got sent there for truanting and running away from home, it wasn’t a POSHEE boarding school!  

The black DJ was going around with a cine camera, tonight, filming the bands and us… I hope he got me!

The Hippies were shut away in the shadows at the back, as usual – I do believe the scummy relics are learning decorum! The black DJ was going around with a cine camera, tonight, filming the bands and us… I hope he got me! Haven’t got a clue what the encore was, cos I was busy pogoing, wasn’t I! The Damned came on later, and I took some photos of them, too (I got some of The adverts – a great one was the one of Gaye – I got really close for a good shot of her in her black leather jacket, and leopard-skin guitar strap – hope it comes out alright!) – Everybody at the front were burning up with The Damned – falling over each other, treading on toes (my feet were bruised, cos I was wearing my plimsoles, tonight – owwwww!) – Lager went everywhere, and most of us got drenched – ‘Neat Neat Neat’, ‘Fan Club’, ‘Stab Yor Back’, ‘1 of the 2’, ‘Fish’… The Damned ripped through ‘em all!

I lost my watch, I couldn’t find it after the gig (even though I asked loads of people if they’d found it) – bollocking terrible – I’ll have to get another one… I’m glad I went crazy tonight, cos I haven’t gone really wild for bloody ages and ages and ages! See ya in the morning, crazy rockers!