Teenagers eh? Knobs.
I never realised I was an arrogant tosser when I was a teenager. My mum told me I was, but I thought I was cool, and you know what? I bloody well was. I had a perm. Hell yes! A perm, and a mullet, and a flick, and a perm, and long hair, then longer hair, then a perm, then more and more longer hair, and perms…YES!
I wanted to be a rock god, and by the power of James Hetfield’s bollocks I was going to be one!
A rock guitarist to be more accurate. I’d got into rock at 9 with Status Quo’s 12 Gold Bars. Well, rock-ish. It didn’t take me long to get to the heavier stuff though with Iron Maiden, Twisted Sister and the like, and then with the procurement of Metallica’s Master Of Puppets at the age of 14, oh my word, yes, I wanted to play to thousands, and bounce a similar number of groupies on my Peter.
But, I despite my best efforts, half arsed to be honest, I didn’t learn to play the guitar, a prerequisite of being a rock guitarist as Bill and Ted will tell you. And I didn’t have Rufus to help me.
So, cutting a long and boring story short, I never did it, and in 2006 I bought yet another guitar, my fifth. The thing was, I had been made aware by a good friend, or twat, as I call him, I had rather short fingers. Maybe this had hindered my efforts previously? Well, it had, but I’d never noticed it before. Not Jeremy Beadle short, but stumpy. Fat and stumpy. It takes a good friend, when you start playing for pool team to say “FUCKING HELL, HOW SHORT ARE YOUR FINGERS?!” to make you realise. Cheers. This put doubts in my mind about me being able to be the god of music and love I’d always wanted to be, so I gave it a bash a few times, and realised I was never going to succeed. But with blinding ignorance, I’ve kept the guitar for years, despite my wife often saying “what the fuck are you going to do with that?”
So today, I would like to share with you my realisation that I will never, EVER be a rock guitarist. Fuck’s sake. So, as it is the anniversary of my dad’s death (no need for any “you ok hun”), I took it to a charity shop that raises money for the hospice where he died. I told them why I was donating it, and they seemed appreciative of the tale. I also told them I didn’t want them to have it, which raised eyebrows until I offered a reassuring smile. Yorkshiremen don’t give things away. Tight, but honest we are. Here is a pic of my giving it to the kindly old stick. Yes the guitar, not like that. Perverts.
So don’t shed any tears for me, we’re not all destined for rock stardom, and as it turns out, that includes me. I did venture into that realm though, as a singer, and I did play to a full house at the Duchess in Leeds once, so I haven’t ruled a comeback out yet. Wanna see? Course you do. Ladies, hold on to your knickers.