MAD WHO FAN GUY CARTER IS PEEING HIMSELF WITH EXCITMENT ABOUT NOW AT THE PROSPECT OF HIS MIDDLE FRONT ROW SEAT AT THE WHO'S CHICAGO GIG....This world is suddenly getting much too weird for me!

Guy carter isn't really an old fart ,but you could easily mistake him for one. He is balding grey and ussually got pockets full of notebooks and books of poetry and Shakespeares sonnets. Up until recently he never watched a telly ,not owning one ,but now with his beloved laptop has been known to enjoy mainline and not so mainline entertainment courtesy of the internet!!!.....As far as i know this strange freak of nature hasn't much if any interest in music ,but due to a lady friend over the'pond' our hero is going to sit in the middle of the front row at the WHO'S gig in Chicago. I can see him walking the streets of Walthemstow with his target mod tee shirts ,deerstalker hat ,or trilby with a feather. But maybe not....The only equivalent i can think of is the effect the SEX PISTOLS  would've had on the QUEEN MOTHER in 1942. But we shall see ,as i am already being woken up in the night by text phone messages starting the process of rubbing my face in it.....He'll be rubbing my face in it because he's going ,but i can rub his face in it because he is going!

apparently he's even going to the soundcheck rehearsal ,he's informed us that he's going to bring a book to read while these 'MOODY BLUES WANNA -BE'S' are on???/......I told you he was an oddball!

TIM LEATHERBARROW THE PETE TOWNSHEND OF SCRIBBLING CARICATURISTS AT THE SHREWSBURY CARTOON FESTIVAL

After returning to our dark gloomy n' damp ol' country after getting absolutly frazzled n' fried, boozing and stuffing our faces in Portugal, i had a night at home with a chinkey take away and a bottle of wine in front of the telly catching up on hours of SKY + recorded episodes of CORONATION STREET. Then the following morning i bade farewell to my beloved brood and made my way off to the fine town of SHREWSBURY, as it was time for the scum of the cartooning world to decend upon the pubs and backstreets of that fine and once respectable town. Whenever the cartoonists decend upon any place any semblance of ,class, style, order,decency, and general good n' nice things legs it out in the opposite direction as fast as their respectable legs'll carry them. This time would prove to be no different ,especially as a group of hooligans and deadbeats, generally refferred to as the IRISH CARTOONISTS' were coming over from the emerald bogs. I've not seen many of them for a number of years . I'm still recovering from the ravages of a variety of Irish cartoon festivals over the last 20 years or so.

Not long after arriving i got dragged into the main square ,where cartoonists were drawing on boards and sheets of various sizes from normal foolscap to 8 by 10 foot boards. I got dragged into the caricaturing for the public. There was a big queue ,so instead of carefully drawn brush pen renderings , i snaffled a couple of free A3 pads and some black markers and dived in doing ,as they say, 'lightening sketches'. People enjoy the fast almost frenetic scribbling. Once somebody called me a KEITH MOON of cartooning....I was telling one of my targets that, as i was stretching my arm ,swinging my drawing arm above my head . He said i was more like a PETE TOWNSHEND of caricaturing. I dont know if that was because of the swinging arm; The target badge i had on my shirt.....Or just my big nose! But being ever the showman i went into a TOWNSHEND WINDMILL AND LEAP in the air, very silly, but it got a laugh and a round of applause. I did consider ripping the drawing and smashing the marker pen on the deck, but i do draw the line, along with all the others.....I do have limits to my stupidity ,but it was probably the prospect of having to bend all the way to the ground to break this little chunky marker, doing me back in and probably smashing my fingers.

Then, at the first oppertunity we dissappeared into the boozer, finally meeting up with the Irish lads; GRAHAM KEYES, TOM MATTHEWS, JIM COOGAN and later TOM HALLIDAY. And much to my disgusted suprise GUY CARTER had been invited to film the chaos and disorder. The evening then degenerated into boozing, stuffing our faces then back to the boozing. The mixture of beer, wine and .....whisky ,all in vast quantities, at the time seemed a good idea, but time would tell...

And ,Jeez ,it did!....The following morning was a little like a scene from one of those zombie films. What the human being will do to themselves in the quest for a good night is beyond belief. But a good cartoonist is nothing if not experianced in the art of handling the worst of hangovers. After a few gallons of tea and coffee we hit the main square and scribble the fine people of Shrewsbury. Filled with stale drink; And festering hatred for myself, the suffering i put myself through and for the others who forced drink down my unsuspecting and innocent gullet; and hatred for everybody sitting in front of me , my jaws aching as i clenched my teeth with a couple of tons of pressure on my molars and fillings in an unflinching sincere friendly smile.

Its quite easy being a caricaturist in a festival ,as people are always saying things like,"Dont draw my spots, freckles, big nose, wrinkles, bald patch, double chin, etc, etc, ", half the time you dont have to look up. After a bit the locals genuine good humour bucks you up and its time to get 'THE HAIR OF THE DOG' down you. The LOVELY LYNNE n' THE LITTLE 'UN arrived in the afternoon. They had a wander ,as GUY CARTER, decided he wanted me to film the cartoonists and public. I took to it like a 'FISH TO CONCRETE'. Over the day and evening the language and pure insanity that came out on the attempt at serious investigative journalism was unbelievable. I reckon theres about 3 days of film, but by the time it gets edited down ,there'll be about 45 seconds of usable non offensive film.

That evening when we hit the hotel bar ,in the company of GUY CARTER and the EMPEROR DALEK, himself, JOHN LANDERS. John was driving Guy nuts, as Guy wanted John to introduce the festival in this incredible DALEK voice that he manages somehow and never fails to crease me up. He wouldnt do it so Guy was yelling n' 'effing n' blinding and ,after a while sounded more like a DALEK then JOHN, but for the second time in as many months i was in a totally uncontrollable fit of laughter ,crying and tearing of the ribcage ,but John picked up on it and took up laughing ,which set me off again and vice versa, neither of us could breath for an hour or so. Everybody looking over.."What the F*****'s wrong with them shit'eads? written across their faces . When i went to bed i was still in pain and the following day my ribs and throat were wrecked.

A good time, as ever was had by all, while the festival was on, afterwards you have to pay the ferryman for the overindulgences. As you get older the suffering lasts about 3 times longer than the sinfullness that was responsible for it in the first place.

The 'ace(but not pretty)face' HUNT EMERSON made a showing at SHREWSBURY, but after a mooch around the main square ,he looked for us in a few boozers, but couldnt find us, so returned home to BIRMINGHAM. Either Hunt needs to wipe the ink off his glasses;Missed us in the pub; Or he was in the pub when we were looking at museums and cathedrals and such places of cultural interest. It was a shame we missed him, as he's a grizzled veteran of the Irish festivals as well. Ah well, maybe next year.

ROGER DALTREY: HE CAN STILL SING A MEAN PIN BALL !

My run-down Guinness soaked body is only just recovering from a few days down in the capital. As regular readers, there must be one or three out there...It's nothing to be ashamed of.....Well maybe a little ,just keep it to yourself and carry on reading your laptop under the blankets......Well as i was going to say , i was down in London and you'll not be too stunned shocked and amazed if i say it was to go and watch ROGER DALTREY perform TOMMY at the ROYAL ALBERT HALL. There! i bet your shocked , stunned and amazed.

We hit the big city and hit a few boozers quite soon afterwards. Later in the afternoon we met up with two caricaturists of my ,but hopefully not your aqaintance, a certain SIMON ELLINAS and a certain PAUL BAKER who forced us to drink even more beer .We gave Simon a spare ticket for the show ,i tthink it was on the roof of the R.A.H. We agreed to meet later ,shockingly ,stunningly and amazingly ...In a pub!. Just around the corner from the hallowed hall. The problem was we couldnt find the pub, so while Simon tried to find a decent 'spec' we retired to the bar. Whilst i gagged on the tin of Guinness ,because of the price ,my friend ,also called Simon, incidentally. Obviously a common ,nasty name , not like TIM. Well Simon (2) gagged on some Taiwanese lager ,for a number of reasons ,two being :It tasted of donkey piss with bubbles and it cost a bomb. But these arent big enough reasons to put a galavanting pair of northern lads off their 'pop', so we carried on guzzling away 'till a certain Mr ROGER DALTREY hit the stage. It has to be said him n' his band did a blistering performance ,his voice sounded years younger and was more than up to booming over the band ,who were a rocking bunch of chaps. After, they did a pile of real WHO oldies ,even LIVE AT LEEDS stuff, and pulled it off superbly. The biggest cheers of the night tho' were for a certain Mr PETE TOWNSHEND, who couldnt resist it and came on for two tracks. Both Simons agreed it was a great night.

The following morning Simon (2) awoke ,mentioned in his Geordie accent "worra grayte show tha' was!", let a loud fart out and rolled over to go back to sleep. Simon left London that day and i met up with a couple of caricature deadbeats and wasters in the form of GUY CARTER and later on PAUL BAKER They took an innocent northern lad to evil nasty pubs and dens of iniquity in the back streets of Londons fair city. Guy and Paul arent the most handsome of faces, in fact i'd go ,at a push as far as to say they are ugly as sin, but it was good to see their grotty visages again, and ,of course Simon from the day before. But the sun shone the Guinness tasted well ,i laughed more than i have for a long time, as KEN DODD would say in his analysis of "What is a laugh?"...It starts in the 'CLACK' and moves on up to the 'CHUCKLE MUSCLES'...Well ,my chuckle muscles were strained and pulled that day.

THE WHO: NOT ANY OL' WHO, BUT THE WHO BACK ON THE BLOG AGAIN!

As the LOVELY LYNNE carries on suffering with peurisy,i'm doing my best to keep her comfy and her hot water bottle kept warm. But this Tim Nightingale display had to stop for a couple of days , quite simply because THE WHO were playing at a cancer charity gig at the HAMMERSMITH APOLLO.....or ,the 'Ammersmiff 'pollo'.....The guy from THE VERVE, kicked off proceedings , followed by a solo by a certain ROGER DALTREY. Then a canadian chap called BRYAN ADAMS ,who to be fair wasnt bad. But he was followed by a guy whose not bad on the guitar , his name was JEFF BECK and he was blisteringly outstanding. I'll be looking on Amazon for a bit of his stuff. He then backed a slightly wobbly DEBBIE HARRY ,she wasnt bad, but the glory days of BLONDIE are way behind. But then the Boys were back in town! Their old stomping ground of HAMMERSMITH, SHEPHARDS BUSH N' ACTON, rang once again to MAXIMUM R&B,THE WHO were home... And they let rip! ROGER DALTREY was in fine voice and PETE TOWNSHEND, maybe not the tune player in the manner ,as is MR BECK......But nobody plays like Pete and he showed that nobody can do what PETE TOWNSHEND does best, which is play the guitar like PETE TOWNSHEND! I defy anybody to not watch TOWNSHEND ..He fascinates me with his spirit ,power ,aggression and humour.. God bless ya ol' farts ......Thats all of THE WHO, for now.....'Till next time anyhow!

But we celebrated our night in a few 'Ammersmiff' boozers, and got to bed at some ungodly hour. The following day we met up with a cartooning legend the famous GUY CARTER..And we hit a pile of SOHO boozers ,before ,in the evening meeting up with the CARTOONIST CLUB, for a CARTOONIST PISS UP.....And again this resulted in going to bed at some even worse ungodly hour ,covered in cuts n' bruises. For some reason these social functions do take it out of us both physically and mentally. We''re getting older ,but the 'hootin n' hollerin' hasn't changed over the years. At the end of the night those casualties of extreme excess included ;Simon Ellinas;Paul baker; The Angelic Cathy Simpson , all people from the other side of this page . A pile of others and now i dont get to these 'do's' anymore and basically dont get to see anyone being the sad bastard i now have become , it was good to see these deadbeats n' reprobates . I eventually got home nursing a smashed forearm and a battered knee for ,and as a result of my sins, to my stricken beloved. And i s'pose thats my social blast for another year....