First I was introduced to Peg, The Flange Collective’s resident fat lady. Today, of course, fat ladies are two-a-penny (so to speak) but back in the sixties, they were a rarity. In England there was Peg and in America there was Mama Cass (who did not die choking on a pork sandwich!).
Whether there were any other fat women in the world, I couldn’t say. But if there were, I never saw them.
Mind you, it’s strange, that, isn’t it? Because, again as far as I know, there were only two fat men in the sixties. In England we had Robert Morley and in America there was Alfred Hitchcock. How times change, eh?
The Flange then introduced me to Mr Shrugger, the World-Famous Shrugging Man. And he was a real shrugging man, not just some skilful actor mocking-up the shrugging. Mr Shrugger gave a free demonstration of shrugging to me. And, even though I have since met men who walked upon the Moon, Hollywood actors and an entire pantheon of gods, [15] I do have to say that I would number Mr Shrugger right up there in the list of the Five Most Remarkable Men that I have ever met.
The Slouch I didn’t think too much of. He was just a little too laid back for me. And as for Fumbling Fernando, the Bird-Brained Butter-Fingers, well, I could do that myself and I honestly think that the only reason he rose to prominence, and he was a big star at The Flange Collective, was because of his Spanish origins. Who back then could resist a Spaniard? Especially one who fumbled?
We might sneer at those times now, but remember, all the very best music came from then, and The Sumerian Kynges were the best of the best.
Let me tell you all about our first tour.
I have mentioned how all grown-up myself and the other guys in the band had become. How responsible and professional. And so, when it came to our first rock ’n’ roll tour, we realised our responsibilities. And we were determined to do the job properly and be remembered for so doing.
And so it became the original ‘Bad Behaviour’ tour. The tour that set the low standards of behaviour by which later rock tours, such as those of Led Zep, would be judged.
We did it first, I tell you, and the original is still the greatest. And when it came to sex and drugs and rock ’n’ roll it was a case of been there, done that.
Especially when it came to the drugs.
Well, one drug in particular.
It changed my life for evermore.
Let me tell you all about it.
32
Apparently Mr Ishmael and The Flange had put their heads together and planned the tour of The Sumerian Kynges with The Flange Collective very carefully. It was designed to make an impact, the idea being that we would arrive in town, blow as many minds as we could possibly blow, then move on, leaving a legend behind.
At this time we didn’t have a record to market. No forty-five single, nor indeed album. We were spreading the word, as it were. Putting ourselves before the public and so on and so forth and suchlike.
It was an interesting tour.
Nine dates in all. Hardly taxing, one might have thought. Nothing to get too excited about.
Perhaps not on the face of it. But we did change the face of rock music for ever.
I will pass over our first three gigs. Much as I admired Mr Shrugger and what he did, I was somewhat egotistical, and I did think that The Sumerian Kynges were going to top the bill with The Flange Collective. I was, to say the very least, a bit disappointed to discover that we were only to be a support act. So we will pass over those gigs and take ourselves directly to Hyde Park, to the great free Festival in the Park of nineteen sixty-nine known to this day as The Stones in the Park gig. Memorable to my mind for four main things. For the two hundred and fifty thousand beautiful people who turned out to watch us. For the appearance of Gilbert and George, who, in grey suits and metallic face paint, strolled about the park creating their very own legend. For the drug that changed my life for ever. And, fourthly, for the fact that nowadays no one at all actually believes that The Sumerian Kynges even played there, let alone topped the bill.
So, let me set the record straight.
There had been a bit of unpleasantness two days before when Brian Jones was found dead in his swimming pool. Mr Ishmael had informed us of this tragedy before it had become known to the public.
‘A sad affair,’ he said to us. ‘But we must look on the bright side.’ I had no idea what this bright side might be, so I just shrugged. And Mr Shrugger, who was standing near at hand doing his shoulder exercises, smote me a blow to the skull.
‘It is clear,’ said Mr Ishmael, ‘that as Mr Jones is dead, The Rolling Stones will, out of respect, cancel their free festival in Hyde Park. And so The Sumerian Kynges can step into their shoes, as it were.’
I rubbed my skull and shrugged no more, but I did glance at the other guys. Neil was polishing his shaven head with an early precursor of the J-Cloth, Andy was impersonating a chicken, Rob was eating cheese and Toby was grinning to himself in a manner that I can only describe as ‘iffy’. And I did recall the threat he had made against Brian Jones so long before at Southcross Road School, on the school dance night.
No, he wouldn’t, I thought to myself. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He didn’t.
‘So we will be top of the bill?’ said Rob. And Mr Ishmael nodded.
‘But why?’ asked Rob. ‘Why us?’
‘Because now is your time and you have to make an impression. And you have to succeed and become rich and famous.’
‘Why?’ Rob asked, once again.
‘Does it really matter why, as long as it occurs?’
I shrugged once more, and dodged the swing of Mr Shrugger’s fist. ‘I’m good with it,’ I said. ‘Some fame and fortune would be nice. Any kind of wage at all would be nice, in fact.’
Mr Ishmael cast me a withering glance. And I felt an irresistible need to rush at once to the toilet. Which I did. When I returned, Mr Ishmael had gone and the guys of the band were looking a bit puzzled.
‘Why these looks of puzzlement?’ I asked them.
‘He’s got some purpose to this,’ said Toby. ‘Mr Ishmael. Everything is part of some great Machiavellian Masterplan. We are part of it. What this masterplan is, Heaven only knows, but he does put the wind up me.’
‘Me, too,’ I agreed. ‘But we don’t have any problem with being rich and famous, do we?’
This question occasioned a great deal of shrugging all round. And Mr Shrugger swore loudly, threw up his hands and stamped away in a right old huff.
‘So we’re good to go, guys, yes?’ I asked.
And they supposed that they were.
And as history records, The Rolling Stones did not cancel their free festival in Hyde Park. They’d sacked Brian Jones from the band anyway and got in the replacement that few folk now remember. Brian Blessed, wasn’t it? And they had no intention at all of cancelling such a big gig.
But we were hoping that they would and so when we arrived at the park in our Collective Wagons, we were somewhat disheartened to see Mick and Keith loafing about smoking cigarettes and chatting-up girls. Chatting-up girls! I ask you! Mick was going out with Marianne Faithfull at the time! Good grief!