Or he'd get me to drive him all the way to Preston orsomewhere to find some guy who's a self-employedplumber now but maybe back in 1961 called himselfRonnie Sequin and made it to number 152 in the charts,just to see if he'd got a spare copy of his one record whichwas really so naff you couldn't even find it in thespecialist stores.
Wayne was the kind of collector who couldn't bear ahole in his collection It was almost religious, really. Hecould out-talk John Peel in any case, but the records hereally knew about were the ones he hadn't got. He'd waityears to get some practically demo disc from a punkgroup who probably died of safety-pin tetanus, but bythe time he got his hands on it he'd be able to reciteeverything down to the name of the cleaning ladywho scrubbed out the studio afterwards. Like I said, acollector.
So I thought, what more do you need to run a disco?
Well, basically just about everything which Waynehadn't got - looks, clothes, common sense, some kindof idea about electric wiring and the ability to rabbit onlike a prat. But at the time we didn't look at it like that, soI flogged the Capri and bought the van and got it nearlyprofessionally re-sprayed. You can only see the wordsMidland Electricity Board on it if you know where tolook. I wanted it to look like the van in the 'A-Team',except where theirs can jump four cars and still hare offdown the road mine has trouble with drain covers.
Yes, I've talked to the other officer about the tax andinsurance and MOT. Sorry, sergeant. Don't worry aboutit, I won't be driving a car ever again. Never.
We bought a load of amplifiers and stuff off Ian Curtisover in Wyrecliff because he was getting married andTracey wanted him at home of a night, bunged some