1. We kick off the tour down in London. And the venue? Wait for it … none other than Buck Palace!! Awesome! By special request of the resident Big Gal’s eldest laddie, we’ll be rocking the corgis outta their socks! Belter reckons there could be an MBE just around the corner!! Can’t tell you the date, tho. It’s top secret. Invitation only event. Nineknees reckons HM’s security don’t want any of them toe-rag terrorists to find out the date. He says it’d be a real coo for those crazies to blow up the world’s most famous punk band! Yeah. That’s the price of fame.

2. Then we’re off to France! Got a coupla open air gigs right down town. Some place called the Ark Da Tree Umph. Rumour has it that some Hungarian guy is gonna be there! Can’t mention his name here for security reasons. But, Legend is especially happy about the prospect of meeting the Hungarian’s wife! He’s not just interested in playin’ guitar, is our Legend. Haha!

3. Next stop is Japan! How awesome is that? Always wanted to go to Japan. Gotta check out them Geishas. I saw some pictures of them once. Absolutely wicked make-up. I reckon that’s where Gene Simmons and those boys from Kiss got the idea. My old dad took me to see Kiss playin’ at the old Wembley stadium when I was a little tacker. Fantastic! Me old mum complained for weeks afterwards that she couldn’t find her face powder and lippie. Yeah! Luckily I’m a bit over that now. Can’t say too much. Bobo might start asking difficult questions. Anyway we’re playin’ two gigs in Japan. One at some place called the Kio Sarah Dome in Osaka. They say Osaka has more punks than anywhere else in Asia! Should be awesome! Then we go up to Tokyo to play a joint that Nineknees said is called the Buddha Can. Whether the Buddha can or can’t, I guess it’s up to him, but whatever. It’s gonna be amazing!

4. You’re not gonna believe this, but Nineknees has scored a absolutely awesome diplomatic breakthrough! Right after Japan, we’re goin’ over to North Korea!!! We’re gonna be the first English punk band to play there ever. And you should get a grip on the name of the venue – I wrote this one down so I would get it right – The Eternal President Glorious Infallibe Leader Angel of the Revolution Defender of the Workers Friend to Little Children Generous Host Savior of the Party Conqueror of the Galaxy Emperor of the Universe And General All Round Good Guy Anti-Reactionary Music Hall! I told Nineknees he should write a song about that. I mean all the words are there. Like you could get four verses out of that! He’d just have to rearrange them a bit. Dead easy.

Now there’s more dates than that, but I gotta go. Before I do, I gotta tell you about our last gig here in Yorkshire. Last night it was. Mudflats Nature Park, Youlethorpe. There we were all set up on this stage made out of some planks and wotnot that the locals had scrounged for the occasion. We had the big lights up there. The big amps. The big speakers. In front of the stage was a little bit of grass. Surrounding that was a whole forest of scungly little bushes like they get all over Yorkshire. And they’d put up a fence to keep the payin’ customers in. Behind us was the sea. Or rather the mud. Coz the tide was out. It was dead dark back there when we started to play. The tide went out so far we couldn’t even hear the waves. Well we started to play loud n fast and I was shoutin’ like there was no tomorrow. The locals were really gettin’ into it. Mixed crowd they were. Old punks and young punks. Lot of Indian punks in turbans. Seeks, I think they call ‘em. Dunno what they’re lookin’ for, but they’re lookin’. I heard Youlethorpe is the naan bread capital of Yorkshire. Anyway they’re all jumpin’ up and down like crazy. The little patch of grass soon turned into a sea of mud. And they were still jumpin’ up and down. But a lot of them were in their socks or barefoot coz their shoes were stuck in the mud. And we were all jumpin’ up and down like crazy too. I like to think it was that we were playin’ really hot. Which we were. But the place was gettin’ darker and darker, even tho the stage lights were on. I looked up at the lights when we were half way through Rotten Lil Git and they looked like they had a million little flying things round them. This cloud of little bugs got bigger and bigger. The stage got darker and darker as more of them swarmed in from all over the place. They got closer and closer. We were inching our way towards the back of the stage, trying to keep away from them. Belter was stuck there at his drums, watching this alien invasion about to gobble him up. He was like a bunny in headlights. Finally they reached us. At the same time, a mob of them hived off into crowd. Then those rotten li’l gits started biting!! The crowd went wild! We went wild! We were jumpin’ around all over the place trying to stop them landing. Now people were getting stuck in the deepening mud. Some of the punters started running for the exit. Away from the lights and the bugs. But some of them were stuck in the mud. They were yellin’ to their friends to help them. Some of their friends were coming back and pullin’ with all their might to get them out of the mud. There was now a mad rush for the exit. It was only a coupla little gates in the fence. About a hundred poeple all went for the gate at the same time, tryin’ to escape the little varmints. The fence went down under the weight. Suddenly we didn’t have an audience and we were gettin’ eaten alive. Now Nineknees who was on the mixer suddenly flicks a switch and the power is cut. We’re still playin’ but there’s nuthin’ comin’ out. The lights fade. “Run!” yells Nineknees and we all drop what we’re holding and jump off the front of the stage. Right into the mud. We’re clamberin’ around tryin’ to get through it. Finally we break through and run like mad through this insane swarm of pests. I musta swallowed a thousand of ‘em. Finally we make it to the tour bus in the car park on the other side of the smashed up fence. We pile in there and slam the door shut, all covered in mud and bugs we’ve squashed and bits of grass and I look at Bobo and she’s got a big gob of mud right on the end of her nose and bits of grass stuck on her studs and piercings and her face is covered in little red bumps from all the bites and she’s a real mess and she glares at me and she just says, “Bugger Yorkshire for a joke!” Actually she didn’t say ‘bugger’… just use your imagination…

Finally played the Weight Watchers Hall in Wilthorpe last night. What can I say?? We certainly watched a lot of weight movin’ and shakin’! I didn’t know they made leather pants in those sizes. Anyway! Punk is for everybody! Fat, thin, overweight, obese, super obese, morbidly obese! They were all there last night… except the thin ones… 

So we’re comin’ up to our last gig on the World Tour of Yorkshire! Tonight we’re playin’ a gig under the stars at the Mud Flats Tidal Park in Youlthorpe-on-Lane. What a gig it’s gonna be! What a way to end up the tour! We’ve rocked and punked our way through Yorkshire. We’ve brought the Heart of Punk to the masses – the old and the geriatric, the overweight and the obese, the rural and the isolated, the city slicker punks and the hill billy punks, the thick and the not quite as thick… it’s been a real revolution sweepin’ through the country side! Now we’re takin’ our punk rock to Mother Nature herself! All those critters in the tidal park are goin’ to be rockin’ tonight. So don’t go to sleep too early you little birdies in the trees. Don’t crawl into your holes too early little worms in the mud. (Belter’s lookin’ over me shoulder while I’m writin’ this and now he says “What about the mosquitoes and all them other bitey things? I hope you’re not tellin’ them to stay awake.” I just look at him and says “Belter, you have got no idea about poetry or literature, have you, you daft twit?”).

And, dear fans, have I got a bit surprise for you! Tomorrow Heart of Punk is gonna announce it’s new world tour dates! Our manager Nineknees has got everything sorted! He already whispered a bit in our ear! But I can’t say anymore now! It’s still hush hush. But tomorrow is the big public announcement! So this is me, Nafe, signing off, totally breathless with anticipation I am and I bet you are, too! Yeeeeeeeeah!!

Now that I am a geriatric punk, now that I am old and and in a funk, now that I’m as poor as a mouse in a church, I feel I’ve been discarded and left in the lurch. The pension is shrinking and nobody cares, the hair in my ears is gettin’ some stares, my friends are all dying and leavin’ me here and my kids never call they just wanna drink beer!

Well these old foges at the Allethorpe Women’s Association Meeting hall went right off when we got into that verse! They was shakin’ their walkin’ sticks in the air! They were stompin’ on the floor with their walkin’ frames! You shoulda heard ‘em rip into the chorus. Just imagine 200 senior cits roarin’ “I said Wot?? That’s really daft!!” It was awesome. Like I said before, Punk is all about risin’ up against all the stupid stuff. And wot’s happenin’ to some of these oldies is really madder than a ‘atter, that’s for sure. So they’re risin’ up and the rest of the world better watch out!!

Well the word is spreadin’ around Yorkshire like wild fire. Sunday, we moved on to the Bughouse Theatre in Bugthorpe. They were bussin’ em in from all the nursin’ homes for miles around. I’m tellin’ ya, there’s revolution in the air, and them people in Government better sit up and take notice. The old Bughouse theatre was rockin’ to its foundations. All those cockroaches and other little creepy things that gave it its name were runnin’ for their lives. Up the walls and out the windows. Coz the People are on the move! And Mr Brown, you better be listenin’. 

Finally we got to the The Dan Room in the Udders and Horn Pub down in Danthorpe. The place has only got about 50 people in the whole town, but they were all there, and then some. No one under 60, I reckon. That’s wot these small towns are like. All the young punks have gone off to Bradford and Leeds and York. Probably coz they have better punk wig shops. That leaves the old people with nothin’ to do. They just wanna be entertained. So it don’t matter who comes to town, they’ll show up. Nineknees did a bit of investigatin’ and found that in the last three months, the only acts tht had been to Danthorpe were the East Cumbria Tuneless Recorder Trio, The North Bugthorpe Not Very Amazing Magic Troupe, and the Really Boring Classical Music Strings Quartet. No wonder these people are lookin’ for somethin’ more lively! No wonder they’re embracin’ Punk with a unbelievable passion! Because they might be old but they don’t wanna die. And all those other acts that have been in town, well they just seemed to be tailor made to hasten ‘em to their graves. And these oldies are not gonna put up with that! They’re not gonna take it anymore!

Yeah! so that’s me update for now. But I gotta go. We’re off to our next gig at the Drizzle and Mist Pub in Foggathorpe! That should be awesome!! Word has it that all the local MPs are runnin’ scared. They’re plannin’ to show up to find out what they’re up against! Let me tell ya, they’re up against Heart of Punk and a Grassroots Geriatric Revolution!! I guess those MPs will put the cost of their ticket on their expense accounts. Bunch of crooks! 

Well that’s all for me, Nafe, from Heart of Punk. On the road in the heart of Yorkshire! Keep on Punkin’!

You mighta noticed if you’ve been reading this blog that we’ve been doin’ a few days in each town on this tour. We started in Bradford for a few nights, then over to Leeds. We woulda played more gigs there but things got a bit outta hand for a while. Then it was down to Rotheram and back up to York. Well I gotta tell you fans all around Yorkshire that the tour is now in its second half. We are goin’ to be takin’ the Heart of Punk Tour Bus to a bunch of little towns all around Yorkshire. We don’t want any one sayin’ we’re discriminatin’ against you just because you live in some sleepy little backwater stinkhole kinda place! We’re comin’ to a pub, parish hall, or bus shelter near you! So watch out! And just so  you know and you got no excuses for not rockin’ up and rockin’ on with Heart of Punk, here are the venues and dates:

23 May 2009, Allethorpe Women’s Association Meeting Room, Allethorpe-on-Drain 

24 May 2009, Bughouse Theatre, Bugthorpe 

25 May 2009, The Dan Room, Udders and Horn Pub, Danthorpe

26 May 2009, The Drizzle and Mist Pub, Foggathorpe

27 May 2009, Long Distance Bus Station Arrivals Hall, Grimethorpe

28 May 2009, East Fish Market, Herringthorpe

29 May 2009, The Iron Helmet Pub, Kelleythorpe

30 May 2009, South Yorkshire Hospital (West Garden – outdoor gig!), Painsthorpe

31 May 2009, Nypro Chemical Plant, Scunthorpe

1 June 2009, Doppelganger Pub, Thorpe Le Thorpe

2 June 2009, Weightwatchers Hall, Wilthorpe

3 June 2009, Mud Flats Nature Park (another outdoor gig!), Youlthorpe-on-Lane

Yeah, so there they are. All our gigs for the next coupla weeks. Some of those places are pretty small, so get your tickets quick!

Now, I gotta tell, Nineknees our manager is just back from London. He’s been negotiatin’ a big hush hush record deal and a tour of the US of A. It’s sensational! But I can’t tell you now. Gotta go and do the sound check for our last gig in York tonight. More later, punk fans! For now, it’s me, Nafe Jefferies, signin’ off and sayin’:  Keep On Punkin’!

Gotta tell you about this place in York. It’s the Grand Old Duke Pub. What a name for a pub! You gotta remember that daft little nursery rhyme. “The Grand Old Duke of York, he had ten thousand men, he marched them up to the top of the hill and he marched the down again.” I used to think he was daft, but now I’m thinkin’ what a legendary geyser he was! Smart fellow, too. I mean, what do you do with 10,000 men? I’m havin’ enuff trouble gettin’ the four of us in the band organised while Nineknees our manager is away. But this genius the Duke he thought to himself “I’ll tell ‘em they gotta march up to the top of the hill. Then they’ll be thinkin’ ‘Oright, must be somethin’ good up the top of the hill. Maybe a big fight with the Duke of Wellington or somethin’.’ So off they go, marchin’ up to the top of the hill. And when they get there, the Grand Old Clever Pants Duke says “OK chaps, down we go again.” Then by the time they get to the bottom of the hill, they’re too tired to complain or start any mutiny or that kind of nonsense. Just a couple of sausages in the mess tent and off to sleep. What a brainbox! 

Anyway we played our first gig at the Grand Old Duke last night. Awesome crowd! Barry the manager was totally flipped out. And these York Punks, do they know how to party! Pogoed all night long they did. Or at least until 2 in the morning when the coppers came and closed down the joint. Anyway it was a great gig! It’s amazing. Everywhere we go in Yorkshire the fans are awesome! Just punk rockin’ all over the world. We all rolled out of bed about lunchtime. We was all sittin’ around with nothin’ to do before our sound check at about 6. The pubs got this little balcony kind of arrangement up on the first floor. We were sittin’ out there enjoyin’ the spring sunshine. The sun loves to shine on punk rockers, you know. And Belter and Legend are foolin’ round, being stupid, and I’m thinkin’ to meself, What am I gonna do with these nutters so they don’t go completely off. Couldn’t see any hills to march ‘em up and down. And I looks up and I sees that the pub is right across the road from some kind of museum. Now I’m not much of a history nut. Most history’s a waste of time. I mean it’s done with right? Finished, right? Get over it and move on. Don’t keep sittin’ around sayin’ maybe it was because of this or because of that. Nah. Just forget about it. I must say tho’ that me old dad did teach me a lot about the history of punk. Now that’s history worth knowin’ about. Coz those early punk geysers were breakin’ new ground. Breakin’ out of the pathetic mess that rock music had become. Breakin’ out of the pathetic thing called disco. And just generally breakin’ stuff. Like people’s eardrums. So when I looks up and I see this museum, I’m thinkin’ ‘Oh yeah. A museum’. And I was just about to look back at those two twits Belter and Legend larkin’ about on the balcony pourin’ beer on the front of each others’ trousers, and I catch a glimpse of the sign for the museum. Coz right above it is the most awesome big model of some kind of helmet. Some kind of metal helmet. It kind of had a big round bit on the top. And down the sides, covering the ears, were these two big metal flaps. Amazing! But it got better. Hangin’ off the front, like some elephant’s trunk, was another big metal flap. And I’m thinkin’ to meself, that is one awesome big metal punk hat that is!! How awesome would it be to wear one of them on stage? That would be sensational! So I says, “Come on you lot! Time to get yourselves some proper punk education!!” Coz as I’ve mentioned before, our education at Sediment Ponds was non-existent. All the stuff we learned, we weren’t meant to learn. And all the stuff we were meant to learn, we didn’t. So I drags Belter and Legend away from their silly beer game, and grab Bobo’s hand, and off we go to find out about the history of punk helmets in York.

Turns out the helmet belonged to some Angle fellow who somehow got himself down a deep well. His helmet must have fallen off while he was down there. Maybe he was hiding from the Romans. Now there’s a bunch of real wild guys those Romans. Couldn’t be bothered just hangin’ round down there on the Mediterranean drinking wine and having wild parties. Had to get out the old sword from the Nasty and Dangerous Bits of Metal Cupboard. Rampage their way in all directions. Hard to believe they made it all the way up here to York. And they didn’t even have a tour bus like Heart of Punk. Had some pretty good gear, though, those Romans. They called their swords their “Gladius”. I guess that’s Roman talk for “Are you glad to see us?”. Real punk gear. You should check out their armour. Metal hoops. Metal shoulder pads. I said to Legend “You gotta get some gear like that.” Bobo wants some, too. Tomorrow we’re gonna check out the second hand stores. Maybe they got some up the back somewhere. It’s a pity the Romans didn’t have electricity. With that sort of gear, they would be playin’ punk rock for sure. Dunno what they had in those days to keep the masses entertained. Some weedy little harp kind of things, I should think. Hard to be a punk rocker with that. Must have been a real frustrated lot, the Roman musicians. Had all the right gear to wear, and none of the gear to rock on into the night. No wonder they joined the army and went out and smashed up a few places. 

Well as I said before the people up  here in York love their Punk Rock. Course that’s mainly coz the Heart of Punk are such a wild rockin’ band. It’s also thanks to Packs Britannica. Packs of what I dunno. But for the last thousand years or so nobody’s been smashin’ Britain up too much with the exception of that one crazy guy A. Hitler. Before that, it was one in, all in. First the Romans beat up the Brigantes. Then the Romans got beat up by the Angles. Then the Vikings showed up with some really big swords and some wild punk helmets and smashed up the Angles. The last Viking big wig was some guy called Eric Bloodaxe. Now there’s a real Punk name. He got beat up by the Normans, though, who dropped in from France to add another country to their collection. 

Yeah. So there’s your little history lesson for the day, snotty nosed punk fans. Pretty interestin’ it is, too. We’re off to do our sound check. If I can stop Belter and Legend playin’ at sword fights with Belter’s drumsticks. They are right into it. Pity our history teachers at Sediment Ponds Comprehensive didn’t go on a lot more about swords and helmets and armour and all that stuff. We might a been a bit more attentive. Might have learned somethin’. Might have ended up bein’ accountants or somethin’ boring like that. Nah. Rather be a punk rocker. Yeah!

So!! We’re rockin’ the  Grand Old Duke pub tonight York Punk Fans! Get your old Roman and Angle and Viking helmets out of the cupboard, dust ‘em off, and get on down for some wild punk!! Coz it’s Wild Punk Gear night at the GOD pub! Whoa!!

Anyway the reason I got onto Tom Jones was coz the things I remember most about the concert was 1. Mr Jones wore a black leather jacket and black leather pants which made him look a bit punkish but his songs were so wet it’s a wonder we didn’t all drown 2. most of the audience was women of all ages and 3. at the end of the concert, a whole bunch of the said women threw knickers onto the stage! All colours they were. All shapes and sizes. Some of the big ones, they’d be rolled up when launched, but then they’d spread out, and fill with air, and float back down to the crowd. One ballooning pair landed right on some old geyser’s head. He turned around to see who had thrown them, his surprised face peekin’ out from one of the leg holes. Me old dad laughed and said “That’s as close as you’re gonna get, matey” but I had no idea what he was talkin’ about.  And I couldn’t figure out where all those knickers were coming from. Had the ladies brought a spare pair in their hand bags? Or were they somehow whippin’ ‘em off and hurlin’ ‘em at the stage?? As a little 10 year old punk who’d been brought up in the sheltered part of cockney London listening only to punk music and bands that shouted at their fans, the whole thing was terrifyin’ I can tell you. 

Anyway the reason I got onto Tom Jones and the knicker throwin business was coz here in Rotheram they kinda have another way of showin’ their appreciation to the band. Like I said before, up in Bradford they threw glasses and stuff. Luckily we had that big plastic screen or we might have been knocked out by the fans’ appreciation. Up here in Rotheram, though, they throw nails! Can you believe that? Not big ones, mind you. Not them six inch things that you could build a house with. No they just throw them little ones. ‘Brads’ I think they’re called. Musta been made in Bradford hahaha. So the set up in the pub is that there’s like a big fly screen between the stage and the punters. So when the brads get launched, they just zing into the screen and fall to the floor. What a load of harmless punk fun that is! So the punters come with their pockets full of these little nails. And when the gig ends, and they’re looking for an On Core, out come the little nails. Flyin’ through the air and zingin’ into the screen. It makes a noise like rain fallin’ on the green green grass of home. Or little nails fallin’ on the floor of a pub. First time this happened, Bobo was so excited. After the gig, she went and scooped up a bunch of nails. Then, back at the hotel, she took out all her piercings and replaced ‘em with these little nails. So she had about 5 little nails through each ear, and a couple on the eye brows, and so on down the line. So there we were back in our hotel room and she’s standing there wearin’ nothin’ but a quid’s worth of brads. She thought she looked like a right proper Rotheram punk, she did. I said, “You look like porcupine and I’m not into that animal kinda stuff.” She said “What’s your point?” I said “What?” coz I forget that other people sometimes say somethin’ funny. 

Anyway, back to Tom Jones. The other funny thing that happened the night me old dad took me to see was Tom Jones was this. After the concert, the mobs of women, with or without knickers, were piling out the front doors and it was real crowded. My old man knew his way around that place coz he’d seen a few other bands play there. He got us out a side door and around the back of the hall. What do you know but as we come around the back, there’s Mr Jones himself with a couple of his goons slippin’ out the back way to avoid the hordes. We almost bump right into him. He’s still wearin’ his leather pants and his leather jacket. He looks up and my old dad, quick as a flash says to him “Jonesy! Love your punk leather gear! Love your wild punk hair. But if you wanna be famous, you gotta get some decent material!” Then he grabs me arm and we run off down the back alley, me old dad laughin’ fit to bust. Cheeky devil he is! 

Speakin’ of decent material. We are real lucky to have old Nineknees writin’ our songs for us. He just churns out hit after hit. He’s a machine, he is. “Wot I’m Clinging To” was our first big hit. Nineknees says he wrote that in five minutes while sittin’ in a coffee shop somewhere in Lower Doderingham. Then there was “Rotten Li’l Git” – another Nineknees instant classic. Right now we got Nineknees’ “I Said Wot” flyin’ off the shelves.  Actually I can’t say they’re flyin’ off the shelves. Coz they ain’t on any shelves. They’re on this internet thing. Not sure how it works. Nineknees says you call em downloads. Old Belter, you know, he don’t say nothin’ but “Wot” for about 4 weeks then he comes out with something really bizarre. We were chattin’ to old Nineknees the other day about how these songs are flyin’ off the shelves or whatever they do and old Belter just pipes up and says “More downloads than a Calcutta cholera epidemic”. We all just looked at him and said “Wot??”

Wouldn’t mind tryin’ me hand at song writin’ meself one day. If you been keepin’ up with this blog you’ll know I’m workin’ on a punk version of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. I showed the new words to Nineknees. I was a bit disappointed. I don’t think he was too impressed. He said “Nafe, you got a lot of talent for shoutin’. Focus on your talents. Develop ‘em. Leave the song writin’ to me.” Yeah. Like I said. A bit deflatin’. But he’s probably right. I am real good at shoutin’. And anyway, the whole band owes a lot to Nineknees. He’s the one who backed us up when all them other sod teachers at Sediment Ponds Comprehensive wanted to torture us with PE lessons and all that sort of nonsense. He’s the one who got us to form Heart of Punk. And that rescued Belter from his mad uncles. It rescued that weedy Legend from more laps of the Pond. It gave Bobo somethin’ wild to do when all those cheer leading bimbos were givin’ her grief. And Ninknees helped launch all of us on this amazin’ World Tour of Yorkshire! So yeah, maybe I’ll keep workin’ on the song writin’. But I’ll wait until I’ve written a dead set knock out smash hit shoutin’ punk song before I show it to Nineknees. 

OK, time to cheer up! Today we’re off to York! Except for Nineknees. Now I can tell you this but it’s very hush hush. You gotta keep quiet about it. Nineknees is going down to London. Says he’s gotta talk to some big record company executives. Looks like he’s on the brink of cuttin’ a monster deal for us. Huge recording contract. Big, big advance. Maybe thousands of quid! A bit of a whisper of a tour of the US of A. Like I hinted at before. Might be a few very special gigs in Washington DC. I hope it includes Texas. I heard that Texas is the Punk Rock capital of the US of A. What a great city Texas must be! Can’t wait to get there!! Anyway, can’t say too much now. Remember, keep all that under your hat. Maybe I’ll be able to tell you more when we get to York! What a great set of gigs that is gonna be. York! Heart of Punk are gonna Punk Rock you right back into the 21st  Century! Alright!!

Anyway gotta tell you a bit about our gigs here in Rotheram. They are going awesome. Fantastic! We got 4 gigs at the Iron Comrade Hotel. It’s right down town. Great place. Newly done up, it is. Specialises in punk rock. They are real proud of the fact that they have punk bands for 364 nights of the year. And the place is packed every night. The only night they have off is May 5. I asked Barrie the manager why that was. He says “Karl Marx’s birthday”. Hey! How about that! Good ol’ Karl. Let’s all have one for Karl, eh. And his brother, Groucho. Yeah. Great movies they were. Used to watch them on the telly back at home in London when we were kids. What a laugh. What a funny bunch of geysers. Especially that one with the curly hair who didn’t say nuthin’. Brilliant. I was tellin’ Belter about these movies and I said “If you didn’t say ‘wot’ all the time, you’d be just like ‘im”.  He just looked at me and said “Wot?”. Mind you growin’ up in one of those ethnic households Belter probably didn’t get exposed to the classics of Western civilization, or at least that’s what Nineknees said. Brain box he is, eh wot?

The pub’s down town near all the new buildings they are puttin’ up. Rotheram Renay Sense they call it. Sure makes sense to me. Got a few new shops. Few new cafes. Tho I can’t say that I care for the cafes here as much as the ones up in Leeds, wot with all those punk names. Down here they got tosser names like “Riverside Cafe” and “Theatre Cafe” and “Old Market Cafe”. I dunno why you’d wanna call a cafe “Old Market”. For one thing, its a cafe, not a market. And second, no one wants old stuff. Coz it’s old. Everyone wants new stuff these days. That’s the trouble with a place like Rotheram. Get it through your thick head, Rotheram people. Old stuff is out. You gotta do new stuff. New Stuff. Like Punk Rock. Oh yeah, I can hear some dim geysers sayin’. Punk ain’t new. It’s old. Like from the last Century. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it’s continually reinventin’ itself, as Nineknees says. Comin’ up with new and beautiful noise and new and beautiful ways of shoutin’. That’s what I love about it. 

Gotta feel a bit sorry for Rotheram though. Old Barrie the manager was tellin’ us that this World Economic Crisis thing has even found it into this little back water of south Yorkshire. Can you believe that? Something as important as the World Economic Crisis is actually interested in the dim witted, old fashioned Rotheram. Jeez you gotta love globalisation, eh? Even when all you want is old stuff, you love your old stuff, you love the old ways, you love your old pubs and your old coal mines and your old steel mills n stuff, globalisation comes along and says “Here, mate, a World Economic Crisis, brand new and coming to a South Yorkshire backwater near you.” Barrie was sayin’ that just last week some big clothing factory closed down. Lot of people outta work. The steel works is doin’ it tough too. They make stuff for cars. No one’s buying cars. Everyone’s goin’ back to the bicycle. So what’s Barrie do?  He’s made all our gigs half price. But he’s still payin’ us our regular dough. What a great man! So for five quid you can get to see Heart of Punk at the Iron Comrade in Rotheram every night this week. What a bargain. Five quid for two hours of pure noise and lots of shoutin’. That’ll snap you out of your economic blues, eh? I tell you what tho, if I ever meet the joker who ran that clothing factory, watch out! Seems he closed the place down but scarpered off with a coupla million quid! Rumour is he’s somewhere in Spain. When Barrie said that I couldn’t believe it. I said “Wot, you must be daft!” He said “No. It’s true”. I said “Wot? That’s not a laughing matter!” Nineknees was so wild when he heard that that he wrote us a new song. He says he was inspired by my concise analysis of the situation, whatever that means. Anyway it’s called “I Said Wot?” and it’s here. And here. So play it loud n enjoy it. And maintain the rage! Well may we sing God Save the Queen coz nuthin’s gonna save that rotten johnny from the Rotheram clothing company!

Old Barry, or Bazza as he wants us to call him, he’s a brilliant geyser he is. Apart from the ripper deal with the donuts, he’s full of stories. Most people think bein’ in a punk band and touring Yorkshire would be the most awesome thing in the world. Don’t get me wrong. It is. Thing is, though, it’s not all coffee and donuts. Quite a few hours hangin’ around waitin’ for the next gig. Old Bazza’s been great fillin’ in the time. He’s an Aussie, though still a good sort. Been in the Old Dart, as he calls it, for about 20 years, runnin’ this pub. Seen it all. Told us all about Leeds. What an adventure the Leedsians have had. Like for example, absolutely devastated Leeds was back in the 8Os. The old Iron Lady made sure of that. Everyone used to work in factories. Made a nice livin’ they did, what with the help of their union reps. Had everythin’ they needed. Got looked after real good. And why not? They were hard workin’ people. Humble, decent people livin’ humble decent lives.  Then Old Maggie comes along and smashed it all up with her Iron Fist. I think she was a bit jealous, you know what I mean? Here she was all rich and wot not, but miserable as a cat down a well. She looks at all these decent humble hard workin’ people and says, “Can’t have that” and then she smashes it all up.

Did the humble decent hard workin’ people of Leeds take that sittin’ down? No they did not, according to Bazza. They rose up against it. They said “Well if we can’t have our factories and we can’t have our little tenements, we’re gonna at least rock”. That’s why Heart of Punk is so popular up here in Leeds. It’s because Leeds is the result of a Punk Rock led economic recovery. It’s a little known fact that Leeds has the most Punk Rock bands of any city in Yorkshire. And the most Punk Rock t-shirt stores. And the most Punk Rock themed cafes. Just yesterday we had a Razor Latte at the Pierced Nipple Cafe in Chapeltown Road. And the most streets named after Punk Rockers. When we were walkin’ down to the Pierced Nipple we passed Sex Pistols Street, The Damned Drive, The Clash Court, Ramones Road, and Radio Birdman Boulevard. Awesome, eh? Bazza tells us that the subway in Leeds has also been renamed the Velvet Underground. Ha! What a laugh! And it’s another little known fact, according to Bazza,  that the local rugby league team, the Leeds Rhinos, are named after the 80s Punk Band The Ragin’ Rhinos. The RR’s were popular all over the world with such punk classics as “Kiss my Leathery Hide” and  ”Rhino Stampede” and my personal favourite “Dreaming of A Rhino Christmas”.

It’s a funny thing how us Cockney geysers in Heart of Punk are huge fans of rugby league. In fact, Alfie, our guitarist, got his nickname because of rugby league. He’s a little blond bloke. But tough as a iron pole. One day when we was at Sediment Ponds Comprehensive we were all hangin’ around doin’ nuthin’ as usual. Then Nineknees, who was our teacher then, comes down the hall. He says “Who wants tickets to a test match” We thought he was talkin’ about cricket. Of course we don’t like cricket. That’s coz the English team suck. Nineknees says “Nah, it’s not cricket. It’s rugby league.” “Wot?” says Belter. He’s always sayin “Wot”. Turns out that no one in London liked rugby league. They had to give the tickets away. Nineknees says “You’ll love it. Not like football at all. Lots of big boofy blokes smashin’ into each other.” I says “Yeah alright. Sounds like a bit of a lark.” Well along we went. England vs Australia. It was just like Nineknees said. It was nuthin’ like football. In my opinion that’s a game they play in fairy land. Rugby League was completely different. Totally awesome! It seemed to us like there was only one rule. If a geyser on one team had the ball, then everyone on the other team had to smash him. Fantastic! Whoever thought that up was a genius. Turned out tho that the Aussies were much better at smashin’ us than the other way around. And every time the Aussies had the ball, the fat slow boof heads in our team had no chance. There was one little bloke on the Aussie team that none of our geysers could touch. We had a good laugh about it coz his name was Alfie Langer. And his nickname was Legend, at least that’s what the Aussies in the crowd shouted everytime he scored. Which was often. How about that hey? Coz our guitarist Alfie’s last name is Langerhorn. So that’s why we nicknamed him Legend. Alfie ‘Legend’ Langerhorn. Course he is a legend the way he plays that guitar. Smashes through them chords like Alfie Langer through the English defence. That’s why us Cockney geysers in Heart of Punk love rugby league. Coz it’s the same as Punk Rock. Simple. Smashin’. Straight up and Down. Fantastic!!

Anyway, had a bit of a chance to catch up with the emails from the fans. You are a ripper bunch! Keep em rolling in! Love this new technology. Got one from some fellow who’s username is ihaveastick. Can you believe that? “I have a stick”.Why not “I have a rock”? At least rock is a kind of music. And then it might be what our manager Nineknees calls a double on tundra. Whoever heard of stick music? Only drummers I spose. Drum stick music. Geddit? Hahahahaha. 

Anyway I’m not takin’ the mickey out of ihaveasticky. Don’t want to wind up the fans. Gotta keep ‘em happy. Sure back in the early days of punk the bands used to like havin a go at their fans. Take the Damned for example. My old man, before his liver packed up, used to tell me about that. The Damned were playin’ in some pub in London. They just crapped on the audience the whole time. The fans loved it. But that was then. This is not. Oh yeah, back to ihaveastick’s email. He says “Nafe, luv ur work. Luv ur blog. But I don’t fink ur a real punk rocker. U use 2 many big words.” Yeah. Good point little ihaveastick. And there’s a little story behind that. As you know, all of us in Heart of Punk did a real bad job of our education at Sediment Ponds Comprehensive. And vice versa. If it wasn’t for our manager Nineknees we’d all still be in the gutter. Mind you Belter almost ended up back in the gutter after he smoked too much Gaga grass with those reggae boys the other night. Fact is, Nineknees used to teach at Sediment Ponds. He was the geezer who told the principal to let us have a band instead of doing PE. He’s a genius, he is. Anyway, after we escaped from that school with our meaningless certificates saying that we had attended the minimum 51% of the time. That in my view was 1% wasted. Nineknees quit his job and became our manager. It’s only coz of him we got all these gigs and tours and online songs and wotnot. We don’t know nothin about that sort of stuff. We can hardly get our jeans on the right way in the morning. And Belter after he’d been smokin that Jubajuba janga even put his trousers on his head. What a laugh that was. We said “Belter, you got your trousers on your head” He says “Wot?” but it was kind of muffled.

Not only is Nineknees a genius. He’s also a brainbox. He even went to college once. Not just to deliver the vegies to the cafeteria either hahahaha. Nah, he had to do his teacher training at college. That was news to me when I heard it. That teachers actually go to college. Get some training. Bit hard to tell, really, just lookin at em. Anyway, fact is, Nineknees uses a few big words that we don’t know the meaning of. But we’re hangin’ around with him all the time on the tour. So little ihaveastick, if I use a big word it’s coz maybe some of them have kind of rubbed off on me. Like when a big truck goes past and blows diesel smoke all over you. You can’t help it.

He’s on his mobile all the time, is Nineknees. Workin on a gig here, a gig there. Just between you and me, he’s right now working on a big recording contract. Our first CD. Maybe a book, and then a film! Nineknees keeps talking about Cindy Kaishan. How we gotta get Cindy Kaishan. I dunno about that. We got enough people in the band already. And we’re all good mates. But anyway, Nineknees knows what he’s doing. He’s a genius. Oh yeah, there’s rumours of a tour of the good old US of A. I bet Prez Obama would be in the front row if we played the Rose Garden!! Can’t say too much. Very hush hush! The FBI is involved! But there’s big things coming up for Heart of Punk!! And I’m lovin’ it!!

I was just lookin’ at me last entry. Yeah, as one of you dear readers pointed out. It did finish kind of sudden. I think I dozed off and my head hit the return key. Or somethin’. Got a lot of emails from our fans after that last post. Little punk darlin’s were worried about us. And Belter’s bass drum. We told him what a silly git he was for sticking  his elbow through it. But luckily we found another one for him at the pawn shop across town. In an area that hadn’t been looted. One fan, with a user name of punkpunkaburninglove from Birmingham wrote “Stop wasting you’re time with those losers up in Leeds and come and rock our wasteland”. You gotta love that. Lucky for punkapunka, Birmingham is on the band’s schedule. And no wonder. They just opened the National Museum of Punk there. Gotta see that when we go.

Here’s another email. This one is from Gottawholelottapunk. “Riots! Yeah! Awesome! Rock on!” Pretty deep and meaningful that. Brought a tear to my eye it did. Latest one is from Savethelastpunkforme all the way over in Austin, Texas. “You guys fully suck!” Amazing, eh? All the way from Austin, Texas. Gotta tell Nineknees to set up a gig for us there. Sounds like they really love their punk rock. 

Well we haven’t played a gig for a few days. Coz of the curfew. The cops shut down the town after the riot. We thought about doing a gig during the day time. But what’s the point? No punk worth their weight in body piercings wants to rock before the sun goes down. The darkness and the stage lights making a beautiful pair. And all the punks pogoing and raging out there in the dark. The stage lights reflecting off their piercings. It’s like having all the stars in the universe as your audience. Beautiful it is. Some of us are still in the twinkle twinkle little star stage hahaha. Which has just given me an idea. A punk version of twinkle twinkle little star. Now wouldn’t that be somethin’. Might have to fix up the lyrics coz they’re a bit wet. Somethin like “Twinkle twinkle little star, who the hell do you think you are? You sneer at us from way up high, think that you’re the best think in the sky, twinkle twinkle little star, I’d like to see you play electric guitar.” How about that, eh? Pretty good, eh? And it sounds great when you shout it. Try it yourself,  you’ll see what I mean. 

So we been hanging around the hotel. Did a bit of shopping due to Belter’s lack of physical coordination. Listened to all the rumours about what happened that night. No one knows and everybody is blaming someone else. The Carribean Punks claim it was the Rastas who wanted to convert all the punks to dope smoking airheads. Really. I don’t think the Rastas could start a riot. They were too stoned to throw any rocks. Hahahaha. Geddit? Stoned … throw rocks. Yeah. The Pakistani punks were blaming the Indian punks and vice versa. Nothin’ new there, as Belter pointed out. The Sudanese Evangelical Punks were blaming the Sudanese Jihadist Punks and vice versa. Nothin’ new there, as Bobo pointed out. Some journalist in the Sun says its got nuthin to do with punks or these ethnics. She says on the day of the riot, England lost a test match to Australia at Headingly. Headingly is in Leeds, she says. I got the paper here in front of me now. It says that the Aussie boys won by an innings and 1,354 runs. I got no clue whether that is a lot or not. Can’t say I like cricket. In fact the only thing I like about it is the shoutin’. When they go ‘howzat!’ or whatever it is. If I could do that all day I’d be happy to play. Coz I like shoutin’. A lot. I’m only reading the article coz I got attracted by the headline, which is about 2 foot high. Anyway this journalist says after the game the Balmy Army went berserk. That’s the name of the England team’s fan club, she says. They follow them everywhere. Soaking up every pathetic defeat. Clobbered in the Carribean, she says, but the Balmy Army is still cheering. Pummelled by the Pakistanis, but the Army’s still lovin’ it. Smashed in South African. The Army didn’t notice. They were smashed, too, but for different reasons. Drank too much of that old Boor Jaja Juice. Seems like losin’ to the Aussies in Leeds was the last straw for the Balmy Boys. The marched out of the ground. Marched off in some random direction. Lookin’ for someone or something to take out their rage on. Stopped at a few pubs on the way. Got fully loaded up. Ended up in Chapeltown Road just after dark. Found a bunch of people on the footpath that they didn’t like the look of. And got stuck in. That’s this journalist’s theory, anyway. Sounds alright to me. Coz we know punks and rastas wouldn’t do that kinda thing. Rastas coz they’re too out of it, and punks coz we just like shoutin’ a lot. Yeah. Musta been that Balmy Army mob. Lost another match, went crazy. Cricket … geez, it’s a funny game.