Heart of a Punk - Soul of a Rasta

Peter Doherty & The Return of The Coventry Klubfoot.

Last month after I'd written my review of the Peter Doherty gig, out of the blue The Bigot asked "Did you see the Coventry Klubfoot at the Doherty gig?" And blow me I had, and I'd forgotten to mention it. My excuse? Well between Mr Egg at one end of the city and the Hancock installation there was a deal of stuff happening in the centre of Birmingham that day. But as The Bigot forcibly recanted, "This is a FAN-zine a F. A. N. zine", ok I get it so now I shall put in what I'd left out and reacquainted you with a long suffering Libertine fan known to us as the Coventry Klubfoot.

Remember when I went to see The Dirty Pretty Things back in October last year? Well obviously you don't but just agree it'll take longer otherwise. Well at that gig I'd had my foot crushed by a very tall pissed bespectacled gentleman who'd drunk his way over from Coventry to Wolverhampton to see the DPT in their death throws.

We shall first travel back together to the 9th October '08, to my first meeting with the guy from Cov who The Bigot immediately christened The Coventry Klubfoot. I push the lever forward and........

[The crew were about their business on stage when my new friend decided to release my foot momentarily and tell me "The roadies are setting up an extra rig for Pete, he'll be here you'll see". Pete who? I replied wiping my face dry. Confused more by the sudden realisation that he no longer had a pint in his hand rather than by my question, he reliably informed me the particular Pete he was referring to was Pete Doherty who had been "fuckin immense" at the Kasbah in Coventry recently and who would "Be here" tonight. Confident of my conversion to his delusion, he hit me with the big question "Do you think they'll do Time for Heroes?" Luckily my response was not required, at that moment he received a fresh dose of alcohol in a plastic container from one of his real friends (the remnants of which he would later shower me with) - he wondered off singing "Don't Look Back into the Sun"] - HOAP SOAR October

And again I grip the starting lever with both hands and then push it very slightly, very, very slightly forward:

"and in another moment came to-morrow. The auditorium grew faint and hazy, then fainter and ever fainter. To-morrow night came black, then day again, night again, day again, faster and faster still. An eddying murmur filled my ears, and a strange, dumb confusedness descended on my mind" -HG Wells The Time Machine

"An eddying murmur filled my ears, and a strange, dumb confusedness descended on my mind" - that HG Wells was truly a seer; he couldn't have described my experience of the Peter Doherty gig any better. Anyway I am back in the confines of the Birmingham O2 Academy on 25th March '09 the wonderful Red Roots have just finished their set and the individual members of Peter Doherty's band are taking to the stage. Suddenly the diuretic cocktail overdose of tea and red bull I'd taken before the gig has begun to work, I am in desperate need of a piss(see Peter Doherty is not the only poly addict here tonight).

So there I stood at the urinal, my third little finger protruding whilst simultaneously exuding. Suddenly I felt a not unfamiliar warm sensation against my right trouser leg as my right foot was swiftly pinned and retained by the leather clad foot of another. I lifted my head realising all too well the face that would greet me, the bespectacled confused face of the Coventry Klubfoot quizzically and pissedly looking down on me. He attempted to focus, I think, as he did so his eyes made a whirring noise not dissimilar to the motor of a model aircraft, he stopped swaying and it was then I realised all too late in the day that spittle was on its way, spittle was already there in his mouth ready to fire and it would soon been flung remorselessly like deadly lead laden fumes from a car exhaust into my sad old face, evasion was impossible I was snared by his psychotic hypnotic stare. "Carl will be here tonight 'cause he's back from messing with that Scotsvegas bunch of tossers in Yankland" he blurted and simultaneously splurted into my face, "He'll be here for the encores, Time for Heroes and Don't Look back into the Sun, you'll see".

I don't know why but standing there at the urinal staring into his pissed but happy little face, whilst trying to remember myself what being pissed and happy used to feel like, I realised I just hadn't got the hardness of heart to say "Carl who?" Instead I adopted the best drunken demeanour I could muster and blurted back "Yeah Carl & Pete for the encores that would be immense, I fuckin' hope so." But this was wrong, wrong, wrong and wrong! As soon as my words hit, entered and burrowed deep in and home something seemed to burst inside the Klubfoot and his entire frame visible shrank several inches, he also splashed a bit of wee onto his left shoe before repling in a whispered sob "I hope so, I really, really do hope so."

Shit I thought agreeing with him was the right thing to do but now he seemed completely broken, I needed to think of something and quick before the Coventry Klubfoot became suicidal or worse still, sobered up! Somehow and from somewhere the words came to me "It's nice out isn't it" I said. "Yes it is nice out, you're right" he replied starting to cheer up slightly. "Do you know what" I said "Even though it is nice out, I think I'm going to put mine in now and go and see Peter" He smiled sardonically (this was good) and I think somewhere beneath the alcohol and chemicals he got the joke.

Anyway the Coventry Klubfoot lives, he is out there somewhere people and armed to the teeth with all that any of us need to get through, a big appetite, a big heart and above all an unswerving unquestioning unreasoning unequivocal blind passionate faith.

Talking of passion, if you didn't know already (of course you did but anyway let's pretend you didn't) the boy Peter Doherty was a passionate FAN of Mr Tony Hancock and I suppose the man Peter Doherty still is. Tony Hancock was as we know born in Birmingham, but he only lived in the environs until the age of 3. Now as a kid Peter Doherty moved around quite a fair bit, he even lived in the Midlands for a time - allegedly. But did he ever reside in the environs of Birmingham? Because if he did, if only for 3 years, 3 months or 3 seconds I think he should be claimed by Brum now. Then in the far off distant future when I myself will have been cold in the hard unforgiving ground for many years, my grandchild can write in his fanzine "Heart of a Rapper & Soul of a Slapper" about how the memorial to Peter Doherty should have been something more and in a much more prominent position, say outside the National Trust owned and maintained Mr Egg - Museum of Fast Food.

As you may be aware I'm not greatly enamoured by this (extremely late in the day) memorial to Anthony John Hancock in Birmingham - I think it should have been something much more and something in a much more prominent position. But then again like someone recently said about this Fanzine "It's very slightly better than nothing" - The Bigot





Tony Hancock used to like an egg just as much as the Mr Egg frequenting Peter Doherty does today go to Youtube to see his egg commercials if you don't believe me.
- The Bigot