PETER GABRIEL STORY

I was wanting to drop the children off at the pool (take a dump!) sometime in the afternoon one year at WOMAD. The nearest place possible away from the crowds, and unsavory loos, was a backstage area. So flashing my crew pass I headed for a what I thought a more civilised VIP latrine. Shutting the door of the portaloo behind me and opening the lid, I found what can be considered the most horrible skidpanned failure of a toilet in existence. It was a thing I simply couldn't tolerate, so I put down the lid, started doing my trousers back up whilst making a quick exit only to find one Peter Gabriel waiting patiently outside my door. The first and only thing to spring to my mind when confronted with the WOMAD head honcho was "It's got nothing to do with me!" gesturing towards the lavvy, whereupon he smiled politely not really taking what I said into account. I made what can only be described as a quick gettaway from the scene of someone else's crime. I imagine to this day he probably thought I was the one responsible. Oh, the shame of not being guilty.

AGE, MY RHYTHM BUDDY!

We played Nottingham Rock City with Iggy, the scene backstage Age was playing a game called 'catch biscuit' where he'd throw little biscuits from the band's luxurious food hamper style rider (not!) and catch them in his gob... while tripping on acid! I spied a box of those funny white ice cube sized toilet fresheners you put down the urinal and threw him one, it may have been my excellent throw, or more likely the acid that heightened his mouth-to-eye co-ordination, consequently it went straight down and almost choked the big lunk. How we all laughed and I hoped I'd not given him a bum trip. Luckily he didn't beat me up. Ah, the memories...