30 Moonshine

This was inspired by a gig I did yonks ago, back in the sixties, with Episode Six. We were playing Morecambe Pier, up on the North West coast of England. The promoter was expecting trouble between the locals and the Glaswegians who traditionally came to holiday in Morecambe at this time of year. He urged us to 'keep playing' not if but when the fighting began.

Sure enough a huge bundle started in the hall, halfway through our first set. It was like an Andy Capp cartoon... all you could see was a cloud of dust with the occasional fist, boot or head emerging from the fracas. The bouncers (these were professional wrestlers who entertained the punters during the week) would each grab a floundering limb and drag the attached body from the fray... one quick knockout punch was administered before the unconscious offender was quickly laid to one side, then to be carried outside by the regular stewards, whilst the peacemaker would return to his duties.

Using artistic licence, in the first verse I replaced the bouncers with policemen (Old Bill is a slang term for The Police, in England).

As you can see, when I was writing this, I became unravelled, diverted from the fight and moved on to other frenzies. All the same, I think the general mood of insanity is sustained to the end.

In this wordography I generally avoid the mention of musicians and other contributors to the end result, because the focus is upon the lyrics. However it can't go unsaid that J. Peter Robinson's piano solo is unbelievable (that's the Pete Robinson who played so wonderfully on the original Quatermass album, along with Johnny Gustafson and Mick Underwood). Credit where it's due.