NikNik

Older guy I knew was a Cvil Servant and used to come in early to Edinburgh from Falkirk. He'd have a couple of pints at lunchtime and then clock-out at 4pm and then hit bars on Cockburn Street before getting his 6pm train home. Whereupon he'd nod off, miss his stop and end up in Weej. And have to go back again to Falkirk and an ill-tempered wife and a burnt Dinner.

Father and son were dodgy AF. The former was also a police informer, as well as being a crook. He eventually caused the death of an coastguard officer when he tried to scuttle his boat after a drug run was intercepted by HMRC.

Back in the day I was in a Heavy Metal band and the singer moved from Edinburgh to Galashiels. He soon shacked up with a dame and we used to pile down at the weekend and stay in his small flat. Bodies and sleeping bags everywhere. One of the guitarists - who was so shy that he had no carnal knowledge of women at that time - was observed one night having his face eaten off by a dame. We never saw him for the rest of the night. Around 4am we hear the door go and in he comes, covered in massive love-bites and scratches and bruises. Seemingly, his paramour had asked him back to her place, 7 miles out in the sticks, so he drove out there in the small hours. At the door, she kisses him and nips inside, closing the door on him. In a priapic rage he drives back on the winding A7 road to Gala and totals the car; it's a write-off. He's ok, though, and his father was on the way down from North Berwick to take him home. It is then that we point out the massive ring of hickeys on his neck. Someone tells him that putting toothpaste on them will make them less visible to the old man. Which turns out not to be the case, as the toothpaste seems to make them worse and highlight them all the more. His old man - a Magnus Pyke lookalike - enters the small living room where a dozen bodies lie smirking, grunting and farting. 'My God, William! What has happened??' the father asks as he stares at his son. Willie replies, 'I...I've been with a woman, father!' A stunned silence from all follows. The father casts his eye around the beer and sweat-reeking room, turns on his heels and walks away. Nothing like chasing dames, eh?

Several of my basses have Warwick Reds. Great string, great value.

Yeh, thankfully the days of giving a false name and no ID/Wrong ID to hock shops are long gone. They have to be accountable nowadays. Did anyone up here have any dealings with a shop called 'Boston's on Leith Walk, Edinburgh, back in the '80s?

I'd have a Roya, too, if I could afford one. I like that firey red finish Jens does. But then there's this one I found on Talkbass, made with quilted Bubinga. An absolute dream, certainly at that price!

Listen to Anderson.

Isn't it just ecstatic??

Drama is my Yes Bête Noir. I, too, saw them on that tour (Edinburgh Playhouse) and they were, to me, shockingly bad.

This is my favour section. Awaken

That's a favourite of mine. Anderson is brilliant here.

Aye, the early stuff is miles away from CTTE and everything after. Some of it is really fast and edgy. Loved Pete Banks.

I was lined up to buy that very bass. I recall Neil's widow wanted to emigrate to Oz and start a new life. It had been valued then at £2000 (even then I thought that was an undervalue) but she would accept £1200 for a quick sale. Because of bad relations with my bank, a bank loan was OOTQ and by the time I had raised the money it had been sold to the bassist in Glasgow band Gun, so I was informed. There was a story how Neil came into possession of that bass. He apparently met a girl in a nightclub one night and they went back to her place. During conversation, he revealed that he was a bassist. "Oh, my uncle used to play bass!" she said. "He doesn't play any more and he keeps it here!" She knelt down and from under her bed pulled out a two-tone 'burst stackpot Jazz. Neil got it for a song.

Topo was hard work for me when I first got it but I persevered with it. There are some good sections on it, though.