DO I OWE HIM A MEMORY (OF COURSE I DO, OF COURSE I DO)

During my recent bout of enforced idleness I have been in bed reading The Rest is Propoganda, the absolutely excellent autobiography by Steve Ignorant of Crass; a musical ensemble of whom I am rather fond. As I have written elsewhere, Crass were pivotal in my life, and indeed I based much of the philosophy of what would become the CFZ upon what they themselves did. I would recommend Igs's book to anyone, but one particular passage brought a lump to my throat.

Why?

Well, Steve, you got it slightly wrong. It wasn't a day centre it was Botchill, a residential hostel attatched to Langdon Hospital. And how do I know this? Because the bloke in the penultimate chapter of page 196 was me. I had completely forgotten the kindness of the drummer from Dirt but Steve's writings brought it all back.

Thanks mate!

And if any of you have ever wondered why the world's largest cryptozoological research organisation is run by a gaggle of middle-aged weirdoes living in a tumbledown old house in the arse-end of nowhere? Well it's mostly HIS fault....