Forty years ago, October 1977, I watched The Clash play two shows in one night in the Exam Hall of Trinity College. Joe Strummer was bleeding. The house was heaving in a blur of body sweat, smoke and saliva. An entire row of venue security, volunteer students, lined the stagefront, soaked by waves of gob…Read more Mick Jones’s Strides
Not for the Squeamish The horses were his friends and understood him as much as he understood them or so he believed. People called him a whisperer and thought the horses read his mind. He didn't know but after a day spent slaughtering his four legged friends, he felt reluctant to say he's knackered.