In an insignificant town on the outskirts of the big city he was born. In the late seventies when the peace and love movement had lost its momentum, and “the man” looked like he was back in control. A working class town, smelly, dirty and rough, blended in and lost in a dense soup of bodies and bricks on the outskirts of London England. He was the oldest of four children and the only boy. Life up until this point had been grey and a little chilli, Mum and Dad didn’t like to turn the heating on unless they had to. His Mother slept a lot and his father worked a lot, so he was a pretty self sufficient little guy, shy and a little bit mischievous he was doing his best to muddle through what seemed to be a pretty pointless existence. He thought school was a waste of time and could’nt see the point of it all. He watched people closely trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “what are we?” he wondered and “I’ve got to get out of here!” he repeated to himself over and over.

Being the first of four children, he was pretty much a self taught survivor in the urban jungle, always wishing for an older sibling or just someone to give him some guidance, surrounded by people but so alone and confused. His parents didn’t have much to offer other than a roof over his head and food on the table and the occasional wooden spoon to the arse which instilled little respect. For some weird reason he found a spanking with the wooden spoon humorous, “if your going to hit me with that thing, make it count ” he thought with a dis-respectful smirk across his face. He lost respect for his parents from an early age, he sensed their lack of control and confidence so he decided to create his own.

Having no role model to speak of he had to decide who he was going to be? “I’ve got to be something” he thought, “otherwise i’ll be nothing”. He considered his options, “should I be the tough guy? should I be the quiet guy? Or should I be the funny guy?” At ten years old and starting a new school these are the only options he could think of. Entering the class room full of strange faces he settled on “crying guy”, everyone already seated and established he walked in to the classroom that morning with all eyes on him, the pressure was too much. “Crying guy” wasn’t his first choice but he didn’t feel he had the power to choose at this point. He was sat down at a table with three other boys who ended up being his mates for the next couple of years, his safety net. There is nothing worse than being alone in a playground, it feels like there is a spot light on you where ever you go.