Big Star - No Pay

Got a call from a reasonably well known erm... personality, about hooking up some new kit in his personal studio. Can I meet him in the West End (London) and go to his place and sort it out?

Very short notice, but being January, a lean time of the year and the promise that he would pay well, so yes OK. Head down to West End where he has just bought the kit and meet him, have short discussion with him and his manager and then go to car park wehere his Rolls Royce is parked (one of those slab like modern ones). we are waiting for a while as his wife is shopping for "clothes and fancy shit", he rings her and after slightly heated conversation says "fuck it, let's go, can't be arsed to wait for the bitch" (!).

Starts car heads out on to street and back to his place in West London (Kensington way). It is starting to get dark by then and he is getting agitated about the traffic and starting to swear at other car drivers for getting in his way. He tries to pull out into another lane at one point but a green BMW beats him to it which pisses him off somewhat and a little further down the road when the BMW doesn't move with the rest of the traffic, he tries to get round it but there it not quite enough room so he sound his horn, the BMW driver turns round and sticks up a finger at which our man says "fuck you brother get outa my way".

He then puts his foot down and literally shunts the BMW out of the way, which the big Roller does with ease (quite what it costs to repair the scrape I can only guess though!!). We get past with him muttering and cursing under his breath. Only to find a minute or two later two Police officers stepping out in front of him flagging him down. He gives it the boot again swearing loudly and they jump out of the way. We blast down various side streets and I get the feeling he knows the back streets very well and is no stranger to losing the cops...

We pull over, all get out, him saying he'll report it stolen or something and briskly walk away and back to a main road where he hails a taxi and continue our journey back to his place. We get there and he pours a drink for the three of us and we sit down to discuss his new piece of kit. He then explodes into swearing and cursing again when he remembers he has left it in the boot of his car! Then to confound matters his wife arrives, totally fuming because he left her in Oxford Street with all of her shopping and she had to get a taxi! A heated shouting/screaming match ensues and she starts slinging things at him, including various objects like his glass and the bottle of brandy he had just opened.

His manager pulls me out of the room into the hall and apologises, points out that it is not going to happen at the moment and could I come back in a day or two when he gets his kit back and things have calmed down. With no other choice he sees me to the door and apologises again, I give him my card and leave.

In the end it cost me bus and tube fairs, a very expensive takeaway (was starving by this time and it ain't cheap in that part of town!) and I didn't get paid, and on top of that it was pissing down with rain.

Still haven't heard from him again either... Aah, rock 'n roll...