Issue 20           March 2001
Featuring: Editor's rant
(E)mission Impossible
Gudbye t' Dave
New recruit
Pud classified
New Leeds kit
Panini sticker appeal
Nobby's passport
Arran 'Tynemooth' Mallinson
Let's all laugh at Sun'lun
New members round-up
Gig review



Hallow again. I divven’t knaa aboot ye lot, but I’ve been bored sh*teless through February. Soothampton game caalled off coz o’ the snow an’ aall that. The debacle at Charlton and at home against City.

So ‘cause I’ve had sod aall to dee aall month, I’ve decided to edumicate mesel’ an lorn another language apart from bad an’ aall that. So I looked aboot an’ I thowt “If I lorn mesel’ Spanish I’ll be able to swear at that idle get Marcelino at the match” but when I looked arrit, aall that Spanish an’ stuff went reet ower me heed man!

Then I foond Sign language. Nuw I divvent knaa what country the Sign people are from an’ aall that, but they must aal be corned beef ‘cause they aall taalk wi’ their hands man!

Anyways I lornt a lirrul bit an’ I’ve printed the result below. If anyone can tell us what I’m tryin’ to say, the forst one to tell us’ll get a borrill o’ dog at the next meetin’……gratis.

This competition isn’t owpen to residents o’ Signland or wherever they aal come from.

I’ll gi’ yiz a birrova helpin’ hand (if yer pardon the pun an’ aall that). The second, sixth an’ ninth letters are aall “T’s”. An’ if yuz cannit work it oot from that yuz aall want shaftin’! The first un to shoot oot the answer while the Chairman’s taalkin’ (if he torns oot) durin’ the next meetin’ an’ aall that can claim their free drink from us afterwards. Faireenuff?

In the last issue I rabitted on aboot them owld Panini Footbaall Stickers from the Eighties an’ how I used to slash aall ower Colin West’s boatrace, remember? Whey we got a birrova response an’ apparently they’re still makin’ them. There’s this young kid from S*nderland what sent us the Mackem page from his sticker album in the hope that we could advertise via The Pud an’ help him to get the stickers he needs to complete his album an’ aall that….Can ye help ‘im oot? I knaa most of yuz are like me an’ wudden even slash on a Mackem if he was on fire but have a quick shufty anyway on page 5.

I’ll gi’ yiz a birrova helpin’ hand (if yer pardon the pun an’ aall that). The second, sixth an’ ninth letters are aall “T’s”. An’ if yuz cannit work it oot from that yuz aall want shaftin’! The first un to shoot oot the answer while the Chairman’s taalkin’ (if he torns oot) durin’ the next meetin’ an’ aall that can claim their free drink from us afterwards. Faireenuff?

I knaa I’ve given little Bailey some stick ower the last few issues but I’d like to tek this oppormitunity to say cheers for aal the hard graft he’s purrin to the Club ower the yeors. An’ if yer torn to page 3, yer’ll not see any tits but yer’ll see a song what I’ve written to say tirrar to the little fella.

I noticed an interestin’ article in one o’ that nippleless, high-brow Tory rags The Express on the 26th o’ February. It was aboot how the country’s kids nowadays have a higher life expectancy an’ aall that than they did 100 years agan. It was backed up wi’ stats like “60% of kids under 15 have a mobey, 70% are computer literate” an’ then this belter “35% of the population under 15 years old support Man Utd”. So surely that means that 35% of this country’s nippers are arrogant-band-wagon jumping-unpopular-ars*holes.
Whey I thowt it was interestin’ anyways.

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"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to get your oats right under the nose of the master criminal known to us as The Stepson  this tape will self destruct like the Toon’s back four in 10 seconds”.
Dum Dum Der Der, Dum Dum Der Der Diddlerrr Diddlerrr Diddlerrr Der Der...."

I arrive at the house in Cookridge at 7:00pm and am greeted at the door by a scantily clad Lynne Perrie lookalike in a flimsy negligee. She invites me in, we kiss briefly in the hallway before we are interrupted by my nemesis...The Stepson. He glances wickedly at me with a look that says “Get your hands off my Mam” and disappears into the lounge clutching his red Nintendo Gameboy.

Nervously I follow him into the lounge, Emmerdale is on the TV and I take a seat on the sofa. I hear Sue running the bath upstairs and imagine her slipping out of her skimpies. The Stepson says nothing as he taps his Gameboy buttons and stares blankly at me like an 8 year old Blofeld. The awkward silence is broken as he says “You needn’t think you’re getting your jollies tonight old timer, I will make sure of that....mark my words” before rising from his chair and shuffling into the kitchen for a biscuit, his Pokemon slippers squeaking on the kitchen lino.

That last comment really has me worried. If I don’t succeed in seducing the lovely Miss Sue this evening, then I will have to wait another 5 days as she is ‘on her cycle’ next week. A quiet groan escapes my throat and I begin to contemplate the fannyless week ahead. I sit in silence wishing the next two hours away. Nine o’ clock, The Stepson's bedtime. I wait. Minutes seem like hours, hours seem like days. I hear the squeaking of slippers drawing nearer again and my terror rises. The Stepson stands in front of me and asks “Would you like a cup of tea Uncle John?” I accept and he squeaks back into the kitchen to prepare my drink. It seems like a split-second between me hearing the clink of teaspoon on china and The Stepson presenting me with the steaming beverage. “Th-th-thank you” I stammer and take the drink trying to disguise my fear. He returns to the kitchen and I hear him rummaging noisily through the cutlery drawer in the kitchen before squeaking upstairs to his bedroom.

I finish my drink, despite it tasting rather tinny and I feel a bit calmer. Sue returns to the lounge, bathed, talced-up and ready for stuffing. She bends over to pick up the remote and flicks channels on the TV. “Not long now John lad, not long now” I think to myself.

My initial excitement subsides as I pretend to be interested in Sue’s conversation, my mind strays to thoughts of the possibility of boudoir athletics as she drones on and on and on. I suddenly realise that I have not heard nor seen The Stepson for a while and I glance at the dock on the front of the video. 10:03 it proclaims. Sue is still talking away at me, yet The Stepson has been asleep for over an hour! I leap from my slumped position on the sofa and plant a kiss on Sue’s lips to shut her up. She looks at me wide-eyed and pleasantly surprised. “Howay! Lets gerrup them f*ckin’ stairs man! I’m gaspin’!” I pant into her ear, as my scraggy neck flesh wobbles. “But ‘R Brian may still be awake” she argues.

I back off and tip toe up the stairs to check on The Stepson. I reach the bedroom door marked “‘R Brian” in bright red text. I gingerly push open the door and peer inside. It takes ten seconds or so for my eyes to adjust to the dark and there he is, sleeping like a baby in his WWF duvet. I tip-toe across the toy strewn floor, quietly pull aside my inside coat pocket zip and remove a handkerchief and a small bottle of chloroform. I drench the handkerchief in the chloroform, the gently place it over the sleeping menaces mouth and nose. He struggles for a second, his arms thrashing, eyes blazing at me as he mumbles “You smly ode bmasmad!” before slipping into a chemically induced deep sleep. I wait for the first snore before leaving the bedroom and whispering to myself “Phase 1 of operation Ivy complete”.

“Is he arlraaht?” asks Sue as I return to the lounge. I nod my head and smile comfortingly at her before reaching for her hand and leading her back up the stairs to her room. My heart is thudding in my chest as she slips out of her dressing gown and between the sheets. “Tha’d best put a Noddy on John. Tha dun’t want any more kiddies at my age. There’s a box of 200 int bottom oft’ cupboard. Use one of them love” she whispers. I open the cupboard door to which she motioned me and remove the maxi pack of condoms. Fumbling with a mixture of excitement and anticipation I open the box. Every last Noddy in the box has been slashed! How could this have happened? I panic and look to the dressing table where I notice the pair of scissors. “The Stepson!!” I utter full of rage “That’s what he was rummaging in the cutlery drawer for.” I slump to the bed dejectedly. Sue puts her arm around me “Don’t worry John love” she reassures me “I’m on me rags in couple of ‘ours so we can still have full sex”. “Thaz muck’lI not get chance to stick to me womb lining”. "I’ve never heard that method of birth control before", I think to myself, but lets go for it. My heart rises in my chest with excitement and I climb into bed. We fondle for hours, but my old feller is having none of it. Limp as a saturated sandbag! An hour of fondling and still no movement downstairs despite all of Sue’s dirty talk and suggestiveness. I roll off and lie on my back dejected once more.

Minutes pass and Sue is snoring in a deep sleep. I carefully get out of bed, put on her dressing gown and tip toe stealthily into The Stepson’s lair. He is still asleep but appears to be smiling widely. I may have another chance I think to myself as I turn to make my way back to Sue’s room. As I turn, my foot kicks a heavy object. A bottle of some description. I take the bottle onto the landing and flick on the light.

“Bromide!” I gasp staring disbelieving!y at the bottle “The little get’s put Bromide in me f*ckin’ tea, nee wonder I cannot rally the troops!”

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I divvent knaa whether the rest of The Yorkshire Mags are aware an’ aall that, but vertically challenged one time Secretary Dave Bailey is leaving the club in the canny near future for a job back up in God’s Country. So I thinks “Arran, what better way to see him off, than to pen a song for him along with me owld mate Noddy Holder”. So Dave, I’m writing this song ‘Cuz I Luv You’ and I’ll be thinking of you when you’re ‘Far, Far Away’. You’ll be greatly missed and even though we’ll still see you at the matches an’ that, I’ll think of you ‘Everyday’. So ‘Thanks For The Memory’.........Reet, let’s ‘Get Doon Get With It’...........

Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
He’s a short-arsed Newcastle fan,
Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
Always regular cuz he eats his bran

He's a queen, can't you see what I mean
He's a queen
See, see, he's a queen
But I know he's alright, alright, alright
I say your breath hums, your breath hums
Repeat x 3
I said

Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
He’s a short-arse but he thinks that he’s great
Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
Pulls on his Boosters and he’s 5’8’’

He's a queen, can't you see what I mean
He's a queen
See, see, he's a queen
But I know he's alright, alright, alright
I say your breath hums, your breath hums
Repeat x 3
I said

Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
A boss-eyed Mackem with a miniscule knob
Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave,
Once he’s gone I’ll get the Secretarys job

Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
You often see him supping in Wetherspoons
Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
He changes trolleys ev’ry twenty blue moons

He's a queen, can't you see what I mean
He's a queen
See, see, he's a queen
But I know he's alright, alright, alright
I say your breath hums, your breath hums
Repeat x 3
I said

Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
He gets sh*tfaced on 2 bottles of Broon
Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave,
After 3 the little f*cker faalls doon

He's a queen, can't you see what I mean
He's a queen
See, see, he's a queen
But I know he's alright, alright, alright
I say your breath hums, your breath hums
Repeat x 3
I said

Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave
Short and boring and his patter is duff
Gudbye T'Dave, gudbye T'Dave,
They say he’s married but I think he’s a puff

“Noddy Holder”? “No
thanks, I’ll just keep them
in my wallet”

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Hallo again mein Magpie friends, it is once again me, Pueblo from Silksworth in the much beautiful town dass iss Sunderland.

After I wass being in the issue 19 off ze Pud magazine, Pueblo he receive eine lots unt lots of the mail from the ladies wanting to see Pueblo without mein adult nappy. How rude! Because of ziss thing happening, ze very kind Editor dass is beink called Arran hass asked me to be the writing person for your very lovely magazine.

So now zat we are knowink dass we are going to be friends, I am thinking that maybe Pueblo should be giving you a little about my history.

I am called Pueblo because my old mutter she is of Spanish Gypsy origin. Mein Eastern European accent is being the fault of mein Vater who is hailing from the Germany, he did meet mein Mutter when he did flee Germany whilst he was awaiting the trial of war crimes in the 50’s. He settled in the area dass is Ryhope mit mein Mutter in eine caravan. They did make the living by selling the pegs for the clothes unt selling shopping trolleys back to the Supermarkets for 2 of your English bobs.

Eine day, while mein Mutter is being pregnant mit mein identical twin brutters dass are beink younger, mein Vater he is returnink to the caravan pissered out of the brain on Double Maxim bierre.

Mein Mutter she goes the crazy way unt throw mein Vater out on the arse. He then lives in the Switzerland in exile now. Mein Mutter has the 2 bouncink baby boys which she did call Amal unt Juan unt mein Vater never did make the phone call to make the talk mit her......until suddenly on the Monday last, mein Vater did call. “Hallo” he did say “How are the twins that are identical copink?” “Okay, they are beink 15 jahre alt now” Mein Mutter did say. “Could I be havink a photo of the twins for me to be keepink, I haff nein idea what my sons are looking like?” he asks. “Nein, I am only have the eine photo of the eine twin das is called  Juan, I am not havink the photo of Amal, sorry” mein Mutter reply. “Dass is fine” say mein Vater “please send me eine photo of Juan, because after all zey are identical twins unt if you haff seen Juan, you haff seen Amal”. Byee for now mein chums, I will be seeink you all next week.

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JT’s Kanny Sutra

Contains over 200 original and enlightening sexual positions from the guru of shagging....
The Grand Swami Faj Master Thompson of Bramhope

Warning! Contains images of a carbon / fossil based fuels. Unsuitable for Minors.

Only £4.99 inc. p&p

“After trying this out, I was dragging along the carpet....if you know what I mean!” Mrs A – Shipley

“F**in’ hell man! It’s got everything in it. It’s even got a chapter on auto-fellation which comes in very handy for single blokes like me!” Mr A Mallinson - Methley

“I like to read the section about ‘pleasuring your inner-self with your mitts’ in my hotel room while the rest of the lads in the England camp are playing poker for vast amounts of money” - Mr K Phillips, Sunderland

JT Tips
Only £2.19
per 200 box!

Two Plums Fresh

Revolutionary new spherical hairy tea-bags........
Let flavour flood out

The best mouthful
that money can buy!

Mature 'leaves' make for a better cuppa.......
Just ask Sue!


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Goosestepping on Together......

Jonathan Himmler Woodgate and Lee Goebels
Bowyer have plenty of time in prison to practice
springing the offside trap.

Yet another exclusive from your super, soar-away Pud!

Here it is! The official Leeds United kit for season 2001-2002. Designed by famed  right wing extremist Eugene-Tera Blanche.

Yorkshiremags resident fashion writer Gordano Wilson commented:

“It is an interesting idea, the new kit remains true to the original Leeds Utd colours. However I think that the pointy dunce caps will be a touch impractical for the centre halves and I feel that maybe another dimension could have been added to the overall design of the garment by adding a big f*ck off Hackett logo on the front with a Napapijri or Helly Hansen logo on each epaulette”

The new kit will be available from June 25th all over the West Yorks and Swindon regions.

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Goalkeeper aged 39.
A stunning 68FF-44-
44. A big fat pigof
a ‘keeper with a
slight gammony odour
and a nice scally fringe.


Defender aged 34.
Flat as an ironing-
board with corned-
beef legs. Has 12
tattoos and a
discharge problem.


Defender aged 22.
Owes £5128.39p on
her catalogue. Rickets
has limited her to 2
appearances for the


Defender aged 24.
A late-comer to the
game after she spent
most of her teenage
years in prison for


Defender aged 26.
Boot-ugly and tenacious
in the tackle. Has her
clematis pierced and
has 15 children.


Midfielder aged 42.
An ever present in the
‘Midfield Boiler Room’.
Has starred in over 50
German “Scheisser”


Midfielder aged 42.
Veteran Swedish tugboat.
Has made over 500
appearances in Court on
various firearms and
minor drugs offences.


Midfielder aged 19.
Experienced ball-juggler. Looks quiet and
unassuming but can
be a handful. Goes
like a train.


Midfielder aged 21.
A real moon-faced
goofy tw*t of a
midfielder. Lives in a
caravan on Penshaw
Hill with her 28 cats.


Forward aged 20.
A nasty case of Fish
Odour Syndrome has
hampered her progress
as a regular 1st team


Forward aged 18. 
Two clubbed feet
makes this bottle-blonde trout a natural dead-
ball specialist




Muppet aged 14.
Shirley Temple
mulleted hairdresser.
 Has a fat a*se and
nice hair.


W*nk*r aged 30. Used
to drink in The Bensham
Jockey but can’t now
because he is a Judas
turncoat half-Scots c*nt.




Jock Lush aged 32.
Inability to handle his
drink has lead to this
dirty Scots b*st*rd
spending much of last season on the bench.


Midfielder aged 24. Talentless Scots
eunUch. Thinks
Sunderland are
a massive club.

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Following the FA’s current investigation on non EU players holding dual nationality passports, The Pud can exclusively reveal that our own Nolberto Solano’s passport is 100% legal and above board. From the photocopy of the document in question, I think you’ll agree that there can be absolutely no doubt concerning the validity of Nobby’s passport. The Pud hopes that this exclusive will finally put the allegations that Nobby’s current passport is little more than a signed receipt from the Simply Greek restaurant on the Bigg Market to’ aall that.


Offiziale Passapuerto di Peru et Greece

Thisa documente is a to certificada that:

Nobby Theodopolopoulos Solano

Los Capitanos di nazionale team di Peru, il habite the Toon es a pukka semi-Greek et he’s got my permissioni et authoritas to playa di futbol en Ingleterra et score muchos gols mit Il droite chausette (especiallemente versus dirtyo Leeds) par Les United Futbol Club Di NeuvoCastelle.


El Presidente Uber Alle di Peru


Nom:  N T Solano

Anniversaro di Birthdayo:
               12 Decembro anno 74

Nationalite:  Peruviano/Greek

Occupacione:  Futboller et player
                        du trumpetto

Tallo:  cinquento' due"



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Voice of (Un)Reason

A monthly feature in which our very own "Raging Gnome" discusses life, the universe and...

Rita off Corrie!
What’s she f*ckin’ playin’ at? Nobbin’ a gadgey who’s boiler’s not feelin’ ower clever? That’s proper bad crack that. Yer see, I knaa aall aboot this sort o’ thing ‘cause I was in the same boat a couple o’ months back. Wor lass at the time copped off wi’ this big bloke in Castleford on a Friday neet while I was in bed dyin’ of f*ckin’ mumps. I took her back like after I’d fund oot….but not before I corcumcised the unfaithful cow wi’ a brickies trowel, a bottle o’ TCP and a length o’ bootlace!
That’ll teach her…..Snakes wi’ t*ts the f*ckin’ lot o’ them! Hangin’s ower good for ‘em!

People like Garry Bushell from The Sun!
What a tw*t! What’s he f*ckin’ on aboot? He must git paid aboot £500k a year for spoutin’ on aboot sh*te that nee f*cker cares aboot. Has he not gorra good word to say aboot any bugger? “This is crap, that’s crap, he’s crap, she’s crap, such and such is crap!” that’s aall yer get off him man! If yer readin’ this Garry, get yersel’ a proper job, cut doon on the sugar butties an’ shave that stupid beard off an’ aall ‘cause yer mooth looks like a geet big, hairy owld womans minge you negative, opinionated, cockney p*ss-wit!

Peter Reid!
What’s he rattlin’ on aboot? “We need foreign referees for impartiality an’ aall that!” Oh aye, like who? Iraqis, Jormans, Froggies, Turks or any other f*ckin’ race what aall hate wor guts! Taalk sense man! We have enough trouble tryin’ to understand your f*ckin’ Scouse-cum-Mackem whine durin’ post-match interviews never mind some mincin’ Eyetie in tight black shorts mimin’ for a drop baall! Peter, give yer f*ckin’ heed a shake man! And the next time yer fancy climbin’ oot o’ yer fr*ggin’ tree hoose to say summat slightly controvorsial, divven’t bother…..yer daft chimp-faced tw*t

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A recent newspaper article....say no more!

"TURKEYS, we know, don’t vote for Christmas but if the Premiership is to retain credibility it’s time to be rid of those who would fail the legendary Bernard Matthews test. Strugglers like Coventry and no-hopers like Bradford do nothing for a league which creates hiding places for under-achieving clubs. It has a well-stuffed midriff with too many meaningless games and, as the top clubs attempt to juggle domestic and European fixtures, it can allow others into lofty positions way above their station.

Sunderland are an example, with some forecasting that they could qualify for the Champions League. God forbid! The Champions League is about glamour and skill and Peter Reid’s scuffling team, in his own image and likeness, doesn’t qualify on either count.
And nicking Benfica’s stadium name hardly gives a club like Sunderland a European pedigree, does it?"

Mr Fickling hated it
when Peter got the

The family’s pet ‘Man-Beast’
was very popular with the
Reid children

Whilst the Newcastle squad enjoyed a trip
to La Manga, Peter had to make do with
Seaburn promenade

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Gavin Mills, JT's protégé at Iron Trades Insurance. Lives in Headingley, likes a drink - followed by a swear.

Season ticket holder Jim Dickerson and his family Kirsty, Sam & Liam from Keighley.

Gary Pattinson, another season ticket holder from Bramley. Ace gig reviewer and Come Dancing judge.

Paul Dawson from Carrville - house opposite Eric's - so he moved to Bramley.

Howard Lawrence from Newcastle. Tom's bro-in-law who can always be relied upon to take-up a spare ticket on a Saturday morning. Tom's sis thinks he's busy coaching at school - when he's on the hoy in Wetherspoons.

Shaun Devlin, Tom' s nephew from Stoke-on-Trent and Emma Pemberton his bird (no, not Tom's - Shaun's).

Andy Wake, a mate of Jim Dickerson and Steady from Keighley. Only started going to matches since Steady stopped - wise.

Stuart Craig. Has a flat in the same house as Gavin Mills - works with Hizbollah's missus, Herbollah. Came along to the February meeting.

Kevin, Oliver, Simon and Alexander Bell from Baildon

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Twist - World's End, Pudsey - 8/2/2001

8th February 2001. The BBC got it wrong, just for once! Enimem might have been at Manchester Arena, but everyone in the know was at the 'Worlds End' to see 'Twist' and to sup some better beer.

The anticipation built up as lead singer, our very own Tom Harbord took to the stage. Dressed all in black, bar his hair, with the look of a moody rebel half his age and the customary bottle of dog in hand.

Opening with 'Can't get enough of my Love' by 'Bad Company', we sat back thinking of the p*ss taking ahead,only for it to dawn on us, that this bloke can sing. Tom continued to display a canny range of vocals for 'My Baby Wrote me a Letter' and 'Rock n Roll Music' although initially, body movement was kept to a minimum. By the time it got to time for 'Need Your Love', Tom needed a brown ale more and left it to the back-up singer in the band. Unfortunately she didn't quite live up to the standard being set. Returning Tom and Twist proceeded to cover 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love' by Queen, 'Midnight Oil' by Wilson Pickett, and the Santana song 'Black Magic Woman' - dedicated to his ex-wife and, according to Tom, 'up there like that other cult classic - Voodoo Lady by Creme Brulee'.

While the base player sung 'Honky Tonk Woman', Tom and the female vocalist assisted. Tom proceeded to take the piss out of her smelly breath. Always a gent! Tom's body movement livened up as the night went on, nerves now overcome, at one point hand clapping above his head I thought he was going to lead us in a rendition of "United"

Overall a very good performance by Tom, and the female vocalist improved as well. Tom, if you're reading this, let the 6th formers know next time, they'll be pleasantly surprised. We were.

Funniest moment of the night award goes to Dave Bailey. Standing on his own, this old ancient battleaxe/hag went and stood right beside him. The look of horror on Dave's face, as the thought of being chatted up by this 'granny' dawned on him. Only to change to pure relief, then fits of laughter as her bloke came other and joined her. Off the hook and soon back off to the Toon. Lucky b*st*rd.

Worst dancer of the night award goes to Liz, girlfriend of the base player I think, for dancing like PETER REID! How the band managed to keep a straight face and carry on singing with that in front I don't know.

Quote of the night award goes to my lass for the understated "He's not bad Tom".

Geordies attending were Dave Bailey, Keith Barclay, Paul Dawson and myself...Gary Pattinson.

Latest dates for Tommy tambourine tappers Twist are:

Sat 5 May - The Yeoman, Otley
Fri 25 May - Travellers Rest, Cross Gates
Sat 2 June - Idle Working Mans Club
Sat 30 June - Some club in Shipley, name to be confirmed

There's a possible gig at the Hare & Hounds on Great Horton Road, Bradford, but no date yet and there might be one on Sat 28 April but it's a private party, so no rabble.

Mirroball - Unit 4, Yeadon - 16/1/2001

One venue, a packed house, two hours (nearly), twenty one songs and only one band - MIRROBALL!!!!!!!!!

Forget your cheesey boy bands like Westlife and your manufactured Steps, if its good old rock and roll you're after look no further than our very own Mr Keith Barclay. Along with lead guitarist Andy, Graham the drummer and the recently acquired lead singer Liz, Mirroball produced a performance to be proud of.

The evening was kicked off by a rendition of Transvision Vamp's 80s classic, Baby I Don't Care. The music varied throughout the performance from the rocky Skunk Anansie to the teenybopping tunes of Britney Spears, via the timeless James Brown and The Beatles. Keith was a rock. Mr Cool. Plucking away on his Bass guitar, unfazed by the screaming groupies in the front row, occasionally chipping in with backing vocals that are sure to give Tom a run for his money in the very near future.

Mirroball are well worth the entrance fee - although it was free on this occasion - and future gigs are definitely worth a visit. I know Keith is grateful for the support. Just a final word about the Graham the drummer. We've all heard of bizarre injuries before. Rio Ferdinand straining his knee watching TV and Dave Beasant breaking his foot with a bottle of Salad Cream - but pulling your calf muscle halfway through Blondie's Atomic??!!!!!

Michael Hutchings

Young fans often turn up at Mirroball
gigs desperate for Feng Shui advice
from Keith the intellectual bus-driving
bass player

Mirroball have added yet more dates to their
extensive West Yorkshire 2000 tour. They are:

24 Feb - Britannia, Shipley
27 Feb - Junction, Queensbury - cancelled
2 March - Black Bull, Clayton
8 March - Queen Vic, Northowram
23 March - Rafters, Bradford
30 March - Royal, Clayton
4 April - Old Kings Head, Allerton
20 April - Old Queens Head, Bingley

  Transvision Vamp - Baby I Don't Care
  Cornershop - Brimful of Asha
  Edie Brickell - What I Am
  Six Pence Non the Richer - Kiss Me
  David Gray - Babylon
  The Police - Every Little Thing She Does
  Kulashaker - Hush
  Semisonic - Closing Time
  Blondie - Atomic
  James Brown - I Feel Good
  The Beatles - Lady Madonna
  Skunk Anansie - Weak As I Am
  The Cardigans - My Favourite Game
  Shania Twain - Man I Feel Like A Woman
  Britney Spears - Oh Baby Baby
  Macy Gray - I Try
  Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel - Come Up And See Me
  Travis - Why Does It Always Rain On Me?
  Tom Jones & The Stereophonics - Mama Told Me Not To Come
  The LAs - There She Goes
  Bananarama - Venus

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