938975 fine fellows have paid their respects thus far...
I played guitar with Dean Proctor's band The Low Gods, we used to rehearse in the basement at Chapter Arts Centre in Canton Cardiff. One fine Sunday afternoon we turned up to rehearse prior to our regular Sunday nite jam/get up and play session in Chapter's downstairs bar. We 'found' several large vats of wine and beer which were, would you believe it... In the Bar...After secreting them in the bass drum we stopped rehearsing and got absolutely bladdered. We then came across bin bags full of clothes that'd been donated for charity. The bags had dresses in them...I think you can guess the rest...Simon, the drummer was done up in some basque with his knackers dangling, Terry the bassplayer was wearing some baby-doll outfit with a strategically cut hole for his 'cocky' to peep thru, I had some cami-knicker concoction and a fur coat on...By the time Dean turned up we were so very pissed & stoned that we'd all reverted to some sort of sub vocal evolutionary stage rather like William Hurt in Altered States...we seemed to be able to comprehend each other, but no-one else could understand a fucking word of the gibberish we were spouting...Dean LEFT and went home in disgust. But I think we still played on...that's commitment to the cause.

We went to London & played The Royal Standard, I took Mark Pumford and a bottle of vodka...we met John Cooper Clarke and sang do-wop songs...I smashed my hands falling over with my Orange Amp. On the journey back to Wales, I fell asleep in the back of the transit only to awaken half-way, pull out my cock and proceed to PISS ALL OVER SIMON AND TERRY. Simon was yelling 'He's Pissing He's Pissing" and Terry was going "I'm fucking going to kill you Buckland, I'm fucking soaked" Terry was DRIVING at the time. This information is 'sketchy' at best. Thanks for the prompt Dean, I'd totally forgotten!

Update from Shadwell: A Sober Account of the dressing up incident.

On Reading your Low Gods story in the drug tales section, I feel I should point out;

1. Simon actually brought a five gallon drum with him with the specific intention of filling it from the Stella tap when the management let us in to move our gear out of the bar.

2. The women's nightware belonged to Jeff (our manager)'s misses, whom we all hated with a passion.

3. Terry wore a puple satin one piece harem suit having burned the crotch out with a fag just enough to pull his bollocks (sans cock) through.

4. Simon wore the same in pink but switched the genital reveal (ie cock no bollocks

5. You wore a babydoll nighty and your doctor martins (and insisted on shouting woo woo and raising the front of it at everyone who looked at you when you all went upstairs to the bar - completely pointless as it didn't cover your genitals anyway)

 6. Lighty wore a neglige which he cut the arse out of with a pair of scissors.

 7. Even though you'd been asked to leave the crowded bar for half an hour and even though they had to call two security guards in from their respective homes to remove you, I was assured by the manager that you still wouldn't have been banned.

8. It was when Lightly took a dump (through the conventiently holed neglige) in the entrance doorway in front of the bouncers, who saw him too late and were too afraid to jump in for fear of being covered in his faeces. That was when you were banned.
Also, it was Simon who you pissed on while he was driving the minibus (I honestly believe you did that in your sleep).

Although this thread is at least 5 years old, and the incidents mentioned are about 20 years old, they still seem to have roused some ire in this pair of total TOOLS.....

 Hi Nigel

> Nice to hear you are alive.
> As Jeff's his manager's misses- just like to point out that the women's clothes were not mine, you have me confused with someone else and the only one in the band that didnt like me was you, probably because I was too intelligent and over the age of 16.

> You see all that drug abuse has warped your memories. I still see a lot of the musicians we used to work with and manage, they often mention that its a shame you did'nt have the courage to take the contract you were offered. You had the talent, just weren't man enough.

> Bev

 Bloody Hell, what a drug addled set of reminicing bollocks. The stories have been formed from around 5 or 6 different gigs and embellished to fuck and back. The beauty of Class A's ay?
> As regards me being Manager of The Lo Gods, what a load of some more bollox. I gave up on Mr Proctor when he gave up on a career in Music at the George Robey , when he didn't have the guts to carry on when he had a chance to, Big Fish in Small Pond was all he wanted to be, so sad. But hey, Brett Anderson done alright didn't he? Jackknife had a chance, Lo Gods did not. 
> I chose another route, with a band who ended being Electrasy, with recording a deal and 3 albums. They loved Bev with a passion. lol.

Don't know what contract the badly written email by the girl whom I don't know/remember is about. I think she's a bit confused. As for being signed to some tin-pot label, well  I had no-interest in any of that self indulgent self-promoting 'signed'wankery. I was only interested in sex'n'ndrugs'n'rock'n'roll. As for callin' this all bollocks. Well, it's in a section called 'Drug Tales'...for fuck's sake, it's called DRUG TALES.... 

Dean here; i can't believe Simon talked me into letting that rancid pair of old bingo-hall fucks get involved with the band in the first place. For the record; Bev was impossibly thick and hated by everyone (including herself). They WERE her clothes because i remember her going mental about it at the time, but i will concede she was in the process of givimg them to the charity shop when we intercepted them. 
'Drug addled' eh, fucking Sun reader. i wished i'd had the money to get 'addled', we could barely scrape enough together to get lightly stoned ('pebbled' if you will). they also seem to have romanticised the band's demise somewhat, i don't remember turning down any contracts do you?
i don't know why poor old Jeff is denying the story though, he wasn't even there.
Methinks they are trying in some sad way to re-associate themselves with you my friend, a bit like when a 6 year old throws stones at a girls he likes.
Looking back, i think the band's short time under jeff's stewardship was a descent into the British Legion Club circuit from which we never recovered.
Arseholes. post this on your site if you like.
How are you anyway mate? come and see us before we have to move out of this nice flat because Karen spent all the money.
And don't go on facebook, get a fucking job like normal people.

Latest from 'the hag'.... "

you always were a no talent wanker, it's no wonder you are friends with Proctor. So much in common."
01 September at 14:50
Dean again: 
Of course, you can't argue with her logic. it is indeed a certainty that you would be my friend, otherwise we would have no means of finding solace in a common lack of innate ability.
Shouldn't that be 'talentless' though? talentless wanker? Dunno.
It didn't take much for old Heavily Beverly to revert to her default setting did it, 'fuming wheeze' i think they call it.
Anyway, I think one should only use 'talent' as another word for artiste(s), as in 'i'm just the crew mate, the talent are still on the bus'. This use affords the correct respect to those who deserve it as it can only be uttered in circumstances where the person or persons referred to are actually making a living from their ability.
Instead its become an intangible thing that people who watch ITV and don't fully understand it can accuse other people of not having just because they've had the flaccid membrane of their sodium-benzoate-dulled existence permeated by the odd home truth. 
I've had a can of Red Bull, can you tell?
Actually, she does only refer to 'Proctor', maybe she means Karen.
01 September at 15:18
More erudite than my reposte, "Fuck right off, you old cunt". I'm thinkin' of profiling her. There MUST be something recently gone awry that has traumatized her into lashing out over some non-existent internet bullshit from 20 years ago...Maybe she's lost her job? Although i can't imagine her having done a decent days work in her miserable life. Perhaps her kid has left home to 'experiment with his/her sexuality' by getting gang-banged by some ethnic Albanian pikeys? Maybe she's recently lost a loved one? And was ignored in the Will? Nah, she ain't got kids...I'm bettin' on that! It's a Cry For Help innit. Cry somewhere else ya pure bawbag!

Still makes me laugh. 

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