A brush with a star.

I went to the Colston Hall once to see Lou Reed. he was a real obsession with me at that time. I think it was there that Edward Heath, then PM,  turned up for an election rally, and as he left I pushed my face close to his head and shouted in his ear, “you are a f**king c*nt!!”. I was a real political sophisticate. He winced but continued walking and there was no Dave Budd to mash my bollox into mincemeat, I’m glad to say.

I vaguely remember the name Big Daddy, but my granny would have loved the wrestling match.

She was scary. We would watch her when we were kids as she was glued to the telly, her fists clenched as the wrestlers pushed and pulled one another. At one point, she shouted slowly in her Border Welsh accent – “Pull his bloody leg off!”

She was also very keen on betting on the horses, and liked the drink.

Not that I would want anyone to think that I sprang from anything other than the most aristocratic breeding.