There’s no drug-related story behind this one, although they were probably involved.
Actually, they were definitely involved in the making of the record.
That London’s Bugged Out night tried a few times to migrate down to Cardiff, but it seemed to be doomed from the start. The first night they had to get local DJs to stand in as the main act (Dave Clarke, I think, but don’t hold me to that…my recollection is, for fairly obvious reasons…let’s say sketchy) was involved in a car accident on the way to the gig.
But John Carter made it a few weeks later.
Me and my legally nameless friends had been on the dancefloor, when a tune we didn’t care for too much came on, and we decided to head back to the area where our gang were located, for a fag and a nice sit down.
But as we left the dancefloor, a drum-fill reverberated out of the sound system which sounded strangely familiar. I cocked an ear. It was followed by these words:
How old are you? Are you old enough?
I grabbed my buddy who was slightly in front of me. Having also recognised it, he was already goggle-eyed with excitement as I shouted: “Holy fuck, he’s playing the Mondays!”
We were back on the dancefloor by the time Shaun William Ryder had finished saying:
Should you be in here, watching that?