Custom Guitars, Sophia Loren and the Toff Rednecks

Johnny — the missing years

Parties are an integral part of any Rock God’s career and I was no different. During my brief stint as lead guitarist for The Unholy Bastards, I once partied for seven weeks solid with the cast of The Dame Busters. I’m almost as famous for my partying as I am for being a God of Rock.

I was enjoying a break from touring in the summer of ‘78, when Yanuck Fluffer of Rocky Houser and the Nihilist Rednecks broke his hand in a freak pottering accident. They were on tour and they badly needed a guitar player so I offered my services. Of course, they thought they’d won the lotto, having the like of me playing the last leg of their tour with them. It started well but the Rednecks were one of those bands pretending to be hewn from the river of rawk when they were just, a bunch of middle class Oxford graduates. Fuckin copying the real thing. Folk like me. Great bunch of lads but I felt I should teach them in the true ways of rawk. If they hadn’t broken up after the tour, I think the world would have seen some very positive results.

Yanuck, a daft apeth for the most part, had one of the finest collections of custom-built guitars I had ever seen, including one with a body shaped like a skull and a neck fashioned by inserting a maple fretboard into a mannequin’s very shapely leg. Yanuck said I could use any of these that I wanted, while I was touring insteadof him but the one that I came to call, The Gammy Skull, was the one I liked best. It also became complicit in the break up of the Rednecks.

The drummer, Lance Triplecock – (real name: Herbert Langford) – was the only one of the Rednecks who wanted to know what a real party was like. Who was I to refuse? Lance were seeing, Emmanuel Farnsworth, daughter of Lady Victoria Farnsworth, at the time and, while she were a bloody snob, she were a top bird. Set of bloody gams on her that would almost bring a tear to the eye of fruitiest trouser snake. She wanted nothing to do with a rock ‘n roll party and was insistent that Lance wasn’t either. As luck would have it, she was running a local film festival and who the fuck were coming only Sophia bloody Loren as hr guest of honour. I’ve had the bone for Sophia for a long long time. Bloody fit bird if I ever saw one. As Knebworth was our final show, I convinced the lads to have a party at the film festival.

As luck would jhave it, I got chatting to the lad who were p;icking up Sophia from airport and, for small brass, he let me drive limo instead. Fuckin cap on me head an all. I still had me sleeveless Gestapo coat and leather kilt on as I dashed from the stage to drive to the airport. Sophia breezed through arrivals like a bloody cloud of sex and I got an instant semi right there and then. I held up the sign and she came over and looked at me over the top of her enormous sunglasses. “You’re my driver?” she almost sighed at me and I could tell she had a bloody great wet-on for me. “I’m the answer to yer dreams, luv,” I replied. “Get in me motor and I’ll drive thee to heaven”. I knew I’d blown it. It happens all the time. When I tell a bird how lucky she has it, she always gets bloody flustered and buggers off. No different with Sophia Loren. She had it away on her toes, muttering something about needing to catch a connecting flight.

I arrived at film festival, pretending to know bugger-all and got stuck in to training the Rednecks in how to drink too much and snort substances from various parts of the female anatomy. Rocky got really into it. “I don’t mean to be frightfully naïve”, he said, “but isn’t it customary for us to wreck something at this point in proceedings”.

“Yer bloody right”, I replied.

I had taken it upon meself to donate a centrepiece for the festival, y’know, to make good with Lady High Muff, Emmanuel. Lance’s bird. I decided that no one could deny the strange beauty of the Gammy Skull guitar, so I set it up on its stand in the middle of the foyer. Bloody typical that Miss Snotty Long Pins had taken care of the centrepiece herself. A bloody great pile of bricks with an inflatable Sophia Loren on the top. I got a full on, looking at it. I wanted to climb up there and grab her but those bricks didn’t look like they’d stay upright under anyone’s weight.

When Rocky decided that we should wreck something, I suggested that we wreck that bloody centrepiece. I just wanted that blow up Sophia. Being a toff affair, they had the odd cannon lying here and there. Meself and Rocky immediately tried to point one at the centre piece but it soon became clear that they were decommissioned. Never mind. When you’re lost, rock will always provide. The cannon was on four small wheels but I was so bloody mashed I didn’t cop that we could have rolled it into t’centrepiece. Rocky and I straddled the fuckin gun, a bloody great joint in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other, singing my famous hit, Gates of the Dead. Suddenly Lady Emmanuel Farnsworth strode into view on those bloody great pins. She was gathering pace and accusing me of paying off the driver so I could kidnap Sophia Loren and of running her film festival. Her legs were long enough without the bloody stiletto heels. Jesus Christ. But as she got fuckin faster, she bloody tripped and ran head long into the cannon. Me and Rockyjumped in the chocolate fountain, but the fuckin cannon smashed into the centrepiece.

Lance’s bird were not best pleased. Her hair was askew and her face streaked with mascara so she looked kinda like a really pretty Alice Cooper. All of her airs and graces forgotten she bellowed, “You Bastard, Himmler,” I was still known as Dirk Himmler back then, “you’ve fucking ruined my film festival. And where the fuck is Sophia Loren?”

I was kind of lost for words, not something that normally happens to us. I looked around at the rubble and my heart sank. I’d left Yanuck’s Gammy Skull guitar beside the bloody centre piece. All that was left was the neck in the shape of a leg sticking out. I turned to Lady Lofty Minge, pointed to the stricken guitar and replied, “You’ve only gone and killed her, haven’t you?”

Itwent bad after that. Rocky started a fight with the string quartet, Lance was trying to revive his toffee bird, who thought she had murdered a screen Goddess, so I dodged out the side door.

That’s the key to a good party. Always leave someone else to deal with the mess you caused and use the confusion to escape.

2 thoughts on “Custom Guitars, Sophia Loren and the Toff Rednecks

  1. Great stuff Mr Bottleneck, let me know which pubs your in of a particular night – so I won’t have to buy you that pint I owe you………

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