“All of life is a risk; in fact we're not going to get out alive. Casualness leads to casualties. Communication is the ability to affect other people with words. And probably tunes too. Well, a bit anyway.”

So wrote Jim Rohn in 1997. Except for the stuff about tunes which Jim seems to have missed out so I added it on for him. Was he thinking of the CasualTies, possibly one of the finest rock bands ever to come out of that bit of Stockport’s Edgeley Road just near Alexandra Park? Who knows? Write and ask him if you like – he’s not dead yet or anything.

Ever fancied being in a rock band? Pulling slick tricks with chicks’ knicks sounds cool, but have you thought it through? There are hidden dangers which neither “Grooming Your Horse” nor “What Catamite?” magazine have ever dared unveil. As someone whose name I haven’t made up yet once tellingly observed:

“Some are born fans, some achieve fandom (eh? ‘fandom’??), and some have fans thrust upon them”

It is the third of these categories which furnishes an insight into these perils.

‘What’s that all about then?’ I hear you bleat. Well you, treasured reader, probably fall into one of the first two categories. Nothing wrong with that. “Thrust” however, is the essence here. Thrusting (like pointing, panting, leering, leather, drinking, whips, letting polly out of prison – most fun things in fact - but strangely, not skipping or kittens (unless they’re being drowned)) is a very rock ‘n’ roll thing, and I, as a thrusting young strumster fall into the third category. So thrusting is a good thing in the hands/snake-like hips of a professional. Sounds like what you always dreamed of as you minced about in front of the bedroom mirror with a tennis bat wishing you were Freddie out of Freddie & The Dreamers?* Well maybe, but not when the thrust behind the fan is a case and a half of “Wifebeater” lager (“brewed by sadistic Belgian monks for misogynists who can’t be arsed working up a temper in the traditional way”), a wholly misplaced sense of New Year’s Eve bonhomie, and a whiff unnervingly reminiscent of the Gentlemen’s facilities at The Thatched House in Stockport. Too much casualness y’see? And where did it lead? Jim Rohn knows exactly what he’s on about. Oh my, how I wished I’d had that bat to hand… Dirty great lump taken out of my lovely shiny Les Paul – a legacy I’d love to repay should we ever meet again. Still (gaze blankly into middle distance at this point), happy days, hot air balloons, much beer, Flying Vs for goalposts and a great sackful of kittens.

* He went to school with my mum that Freddie out of Freddie & The Dreamers did. Sat behind her. Pulled her hair. If I see him, I’ll pull his and see how funny he thinks it is. Same goes for anyone who messed my mum about when she was at school.  In fact, never ever mess about with the mum of anybody out of The CasualTies. Ok? And don’t thrust yourself at people with guitars. I tell you what; I’m scarred for life.

The CasualTies can be seen playing in a dive near you probably quite soon. Check out www.Casual-Ties.co.uk for details.

Your chum,

Mister Bat out of the CasualTies.