Dublin Opinion

By now I had got too close. It was my turn to feel the Curse of the Fall. For months, everything went wrong. I drove my shiny new MG (purchased after my other car blew up) into a river. My beloved Leeds United were relegated, then deducted 10 points, then 15. I was struck down with nasty food-poisoning. Suzanne announced she was leaving me. Her dissatisfaction apparently started when I was “finding all those people in the Fall”. For 17 years, there had been two predominant sounds in my life: the sound of the Fall, and the sound of Suzanne’s breathing as we lay side by side. And now, because of one of them, the other was gone. Inevitably, she dumped me for a trucker, a Container Driver, the title of my favourite Fall song.

Dave Simpson has written a book about tracking down the 43 members of the Fall who have been sacked over the years and how it almost ruined his life. Sounds like being a member of the Fall is far more detrimental than writing about it.

Got this from Jamie of Blood and Treasure, who reckons he could have been a member of the Fall, although he has never met Smith and cannot remember ever have been in the band. He does live in Manchester though, can’t play a musical instrument and there have been times when he was so drunk that he can’t remember what happened during short periods, so you never know.

In terms of ‘drunk’ stories it would be a good one though. Something like, I was only going out for one or two down the local and the next thing you know I’m in Australia dancing to ‘Rock the Cashbah’ on a tiny disco dance floor with the members of a legendary rock outfit. Then this petrified gnome starts shouting at me and slapping my face. I mean, I didn’t know where to look. Luckily someone else flattened him with one punch and the little git starts shouting ‘‘Help! I’m being attacked!’

I tell ye, it was mad.