Confession. Something happened to me in 1980. I bought a Stacy Lattisaw single. There I was, meandering through life’s peaks & troughs, bit of prog here, bit of rock there. Suddenly, someone uttered the fatal words…”lads are hittin’ the disco at the weekend...you comin’?”
So...I did. Suddenly...Shalamar, Shakatak, The Brothers Johnson, Chic & gulp...Stacy. What fresh hell was this? Then. Girls. Music’s not so bad after all…
On Friday’s, when I wasn’t downright disgracing myself at the disco, I disgraced myself in a local hostelry with my chum, Gordon. We drank, mostly too much & with chatting up the laydeez completely out of the question, due to compromised speech, we repaired to the Chinese, indulging in what became a regular Friday night culinary carry out. Chips in curry sauce. Covered in unshiftable stains, we lurched back to Gordon’s parents house, slumped on chairs & stuck old Georgey boy on.We’d discuss the evening’s events (all completely unintelligible) come to no conclusion..
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