Nelson Galaxy

A few years ago my band played a gig near Nottingham. At the time we were called The Johnsons and we were playing in the palatial environs of Woolaton Park. It was a lovely balmy summer’s day in August. We were honoured to have a guest appearance from Enormous frontman Davy Lawrence on drum, that’s right - drum, he literally banged a drum.

I was a little nervous before going on stage and putting make up on in the back off a trannie van is rather unpleasant. As I walked on stage in all my finery I shouted and squealed and pranced my way through a set that included some songs which will be on the upcoming Nelson Galaxy and Donovans of Trash album Idiot Fever (out soon on Big Arena Records), such as Two Minutes and Breakdown.

As I became aware of my surroundings I noticed that the cordoned off enclosed audience area was situated far away in the distance. I could barely see any of our fans and certainly could not hear their whoops of enjoyment. Tiny figures in the distance were moving around but were they enjoying themselves? Did they really want to watch a punk pop band fronted by a transvestite? Of course they did.

In the expansive void between stage and audience were positioned a large number of trampolines. We started playing the rather brilliant song Stupid World when a team of scouts appeared from nowhere and began synchronised jumping in time to the music. Quite a sight – they were bounding from one bouncy place to the next, doing a kind of robotic dance called the Robo-boogie and never touching the ground.

However, my punk aesthetic found jumping scouts an incorrect accompaniment to my music. Bizarre yes, but oh so very wrong.

The rock n roll gene in my brain told me to do the unthinkable. I swore . . . at children . . . jumping laughing children. The tiny scouts in toggles and shorts suddenly stopped. Their little cherub faces turned toward the stage, a look of bewilderment and shock in their eyes. Some of them began to cry.

The PA system was immediately switched off and a large uncouth lighting man called Sparky asked us to leave the stage. I hung my head as I left the stage, ashamed at my own rudeness and immaturity. My fellow band members shook their heads in embarrassment.

Walking down the stage steps I removed my wig and caught a glimpse of myself in a car window. I looked like a pathetic man in a dress. A dress wearing man who swears at children. Oh the shame.

Nelson Galaxy will rise from the ashes of this debacle and promises not to swear at scouts. Can I still swear at beggars? Oh, and ignorant idiots? Racists, sexists and homophobes? How about Red Hot Chilli Peppers fans? Under certain circumstances maybe swearing does have its place. But not at scouts.