DRUGS AND ROCK ‘N’ROLL Ian Dury and the Blockheads had a song out called ‘Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll’ which fitted the story of my life very well. It was the theme tune for this period of my life, and many others around our area and similar areas in the UK. Opiates, heroin, Diconal made me feel warm, comforted and healed. I fell in love with the only love I had ever known. It was deathly, dangerous, yet it took all the pain away. The only way to get it was through regular criminal activities and from doctors, legally and illegally. Meanwhile I had been building up a hefty Crown Court appearance list with various drug related crimes and shop burglary, we even tried to get the safe out of a local Co-op store! We were crazy, but whilst mooching around the back of the largest department store in the town centre, we noticed one of the back doors had been left open! This was like letting kids loose in a sweet shop, well the sweet shop part of the mall or supermarket these days! We were out of our heads on downers, or benzodiazepines, and alcohol. It was more disorganised crime than organised. We started filling bags up with watches, but this was a department store, if we’d have been in a fit state and thought this out properly, well, we could have started to empty the place. It also had a bank on the top floor. I had a brainwave. We got some tools from the DIY department, and slid under the bank tellers’ serving hatches, and started to try and saw through the Co-op Bank’s safe! We took turns at sawing and chiselling like crazy, sweat dripping of us. We were trying to saw through the hinges of the old safe and were getting closer and closer! This could be the big one, all by a flukey chance. One of the team left with his bag of swag – watches, jewellery, etc. – he was the wise one; we carried on and on. Anyway, the top man of the store, the boss, remembered he had not locked this door and came back! Suddenly, looking directly at us were the police, loads of them, some in uniform, some plain clothes. ‘Come on then,’ they pleaded, they couldn’t get through the tellers’ windows. (I told you I was skinny!) So me and my friend Neil ran away and hid in an old dusty room at the back of the department store. We sat there; we must have looked a sight, hiding with all the clothing dummies! All dummies together! We could hear the police and the dogs. ‘They’re gonna find us,’ I whispered as I heard the dogs, this is what they’re trained for. Right then, we made a decision: let’s make a run for it. So we started creeping out of the darkened room, onto the back fire exit. ‘Here they are!’ a policeman yelled. Off we ran. Now opposite the Co-op on this lovely summer’s evening were all the locals cheering us on as we ran as fast as we could; it was very Keystone Cop-ish. The entertainment that night was on us: everyone was cheering and laughing as we kept running. It was no good – we were unfit drug addicts, they were fit healthy policemen with dogs: do the maths, they caught us. They put us in the police van and took us to the police station. As soon as the doors opened again I was off, running as fast as I could. I got about a quarter of a mile away, chest burning, getting more and more out of breath. I was caught, again! This time they handcuffed me. I was taken back to the police station and bailed. The rumour went around that we had been caught whilst posing as dummies in the shop window! At this time I had got talking to a beautiful blonde woman who was my age and worked in a bank. I managed to chat her up and we started dating. This was probably my second serious relationship. Her name was Debbie and she lived in the next town although she stayed over at our house a lot. We did have a good relationship, looking back; we had fun, shared musical tastes, and we smoked dope together. I was still mad for Diconal, or any other opiate when there were none around. You guessed it – she devised an elaborate system to steal money for us, to buy drugs and so that I could play the big shot. This money was in crisp £50 notes and it kept us going until I had to appear at Manchester Crown Court. We were expecting borstal training, and welcomed it; it was another progression in my educational training and the family I was now part of.

DRUGS AND ROCK ‘N’ROLL

Ian Dury and the Blockheads had a song out called ‘Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll’ which fitted the story of my life very well. It was the theme tune for this period of my life, and many others around our area and similar areas in the UK.

Opiates, heroin, Diconal made me feel warm, comforted and healed. I fell in love with the only love I had ever known. It was deathly, dangerous, yet it took all the pain away. The only way to get it was through regular criminal activities and from doctors, legally and illegally. Meanwhile I had been building up a hefty Crown Court appearance list with various drug related crimes and shop burglary, we even tried to get the safe out of a local Co-op store! We were crazy, but whilst mooching around the back of the largest department store in the town centre, we noticed one of the back doors had been left open! This was like letting kids loose in a sweet shop, well the sweet shop part of the mall or supermarket these days!

We were out of our heads on downers, or benzodiazepines, and alcohol. It was more disorganised crime than organised. We started filling bags up with watches, but this was a department store, if we’d have been in a fit state and thought this out properly, well, we could have started to empty the place. It also had a bank on the top floor. I had a brainwave. We got some tools from the DIY department, and slid under the bank tellers’ serving hatches, and started to try and saw through the Co-op Bank’s safe! We took turns at sawing and chiselling like crazy, sweat dripping of us. We were trying to saw through the hinges of the old safe and were getting closer and closer! This could be the big one, all by a flukey chance. One of the team left with his bag of swag – watches, jewellery, etc. – he was the wise one; we carried on and on. Anyway, the top man of the store, the boss, remembered he had not locked this door and came back! Suddenly, looking directly at us were the police, loads of them, some in uniform, some plain clothes. ‘Come on then,’ they pleaded, they couldn’t get through the tellers’ windows. (I told you I was skinny!) So me and my friend Neil ran away and hid in an old dusty room at the back of the department store.

We sat there; we must have looked a sight, hiding with all the clothing dummies! All dummies together! We could hear the police and the dogs.

‘They’re gonna find us,’ I whispered as I heard the dogs, this is what they’re trained for. Right then, we made a decision: let’s make a run for it. So we started creeping out of the darkened room, onto the back fire exit.

‘Here they are!’ a policeman yelled.

Off we ran. Now opposite the Co-op on this lovely summer’s evening were all the locals cheering us on as we ran as fast as we could; it was very Keystone Cop-ish. The entertainment that night was on us: everyone was cheering and laughing as we kept running. It was no good – we were unfit drug addicts, they were fit healthy policemen with dogs: do the maths, they caught us.

They put us in the police van and took us to the police station. As soon as the doors opened again I was off, running as fast as I could. I got about a quarter of a mile away, chest burning, getting more and more out of breath. I was caught, again! This time they handcuffed me. I was taken back to the police station and bailed. The rumour went around that we had been caught whilst posing as dummies in the shop window!

At this time I had got talking to a beautiful blonde woman who was my age and worked in a bank. I managed to chat her up and we started dating. This was probably my second serious relationship. Her name was Debbie and she lived in the next town although she stayed over at our house a lot. We did have a good relationship, looking back; we had fun, shared musical tastes, and we smoked dope together. I was still mad for Diconal, or any other opiate when there were none around. You guessed it – she devised an elaborate system to steal money for us, to buy drugs and so that I could play the big shot. This money was in crisp £50 notes and it kept us going until I had to appear at Manchester Crown Court. We were expecting borstal training, and welcomed it; it was another progression in my educational training and the family I was now part of.