For Red… It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon in the leafy Newcastle suburb, New Lambton. 1988, Sluggos carport to be precise. As with most of my lifes best stories, there is a multitude of Daves… in this particular tale there are two. Dave Thomas, aka Sluggo, and Dave the Christian who shall be known as Dave the Christian. There is also Mick. The four of us were rehearsing in our band, the Condemned, in Sluggos carport. Slug’s parents had gone away for the weekend so what better time for young men to play metal and drink beer. I was 17 at the time. Sluggo and I had known each other for some time and as I was two years his junior Slug took me under his wing and taught me the ways of the world… One of those ways included the consumption of vast quantities of beer and Southern Comfort. We had found guitarist Mick and drummer Dave the Christian the way all young bands found band mates back in the day, through the musos classifieds in the local paper and a community notice board. The four of us had a love of metal but each from slightly different angles. Sluggo was more adventurous in his metal dealings, introducing us to Slayer, Venom, Celtic Frost et al. Mick was more NWOBHM, Maiden, Priest, Motorhead. Dave the Christian loved the classics, Deep Purple & Zeppelin and I was Kiss & AC/DC mad. What we didn’t know about Dave the Christian, at the time he joined the band, was how much his Christian beliefs and seemingly failing health would affect his day to day behaviour. The things we would take for granted, like pizza and beer, KFC and meat pies were all no-no’s in his book. Saladas and cordial, muesli bars and fruit... foreign concepts indeed! So, back to the story, the four of us are belting away it some metal. Perhaps it was Motorhead’s Ace Of Spades? No matter… whatever metal anthem it was it would soon be interrupted by a familiar clomp of Johnny Reb boots and the often heard phrase, “Is the home owner here?” A kindly neighbour had called the cops and we were shut down. The police seemed to understand our plight and even commented on our performance of the Iron Maiden sing along “Iron Maiden.” We decided not to flaunt the law and piss off the neighbours. We packed up and the decision was made to head to the Duke. Mick Sluggo and I were happy with this plan and keen to move… Dave the Christian seemed confused… he was headed into Satan’s den. We got to the pub, a pub I’d visited on many occasions, perhaps weekly but at least fortnightly, for a refreshing schooner or two (sorry mum… I may have fibbed about what we were doing). Mick got his schooner, Sluggo & I got ours. Mick & I sat down and started sipping on our beers, most likely Fosters at the time, Sluggo chatted to the publican, if memory serves his name was John. Sluggo might confirm or correct me on that one. While Sluggo was chatting away, oblivious to his surroundings, Dave the Christian posed the question… “can you get a glass of milk here?” Sluggo, not really listening to his band mates enquiry replied, “I don’t know… you’ll have to ask.” Dave the Christian then asked again, this time his audience was John the Publican. “May I have a glass of milk please?” John, taken aback by such an odd request in a pub known for serving some of the finest drinkers I’ve ever seen, turned to Sluggo. “SLUG!! Either this idiot goes or your underage mate goes!!” What did I do??? Sluggo turns to Dave the Christian and says, “There’s a milk bar down the road.” Dave the Christian left for the afternoon and I returned to my schooner. Here ends the fable of the glass of milk.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Dec 2014 01:22:12 +0000
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