Yes it`s true. My boss called me in and told me it was time to hang up my spotty leggings and tell Mrs. Smellypants that no more videoing is required. That "Happy Graham" is taking early retirement. In fact very soon those leggings will be up for auction, along with other "Happy Graham" props and memorabilia. Time to tell the children, "Sorry, but "Happy Graham." is no longer happy. That, until some adults sort themselves out, he won't be back."

My boss isn't a bad guy. I`ll vouch for him. But I do know he's been under a lot of unfair pressure. In fact he's worked and struggled under unfair pressure for a long, long time. The reason I know? Because I am my own boss and always have been. Choosing self-employment after graduating with an Honours Degree in Business Studies and a Chartered Diploma in Marketing after six years. In fact we all our own Boss. We decide how long we are going to work towards something. What skills you are willing to share with the world. What we are willing to devote our time to learn instead of playing. Everyday we are faced with important decisions at home, work and with everyone you meet. The conscious decision of what mask you are going to put on and what approach to the meeting will be. Armed with the necessary stock phrases and practised body language to take control of the occasion.

Self-employment means having to have the ability to make the decisions that other people "Higher up" normally make for you at work. In my own business I have worked in every department you could find in any company. From the cleaner, to various admin staff, product development staff, market researcher, sales force, performer, DJ, writer, guitarist, sound engineer, computer and IT co-ordinator, accountant, legal representative, marketing manager, General Manager and company Director. I did them all and still do. Though my friends know I skimp on the cleaning a bit. But when I have a purge, I purge.

Legally though I had to call myself a Sole Proprietor. A one man band. But when you are, quite literally, "A-One-Man-Band and Entertainer", maybe that's not so bad.

The fact is, that my seven years of performing children's shows, has unfortunately lead to a lot of personal debt. Mainly trying to raise the capital to get some other wonderful businesses off the ground. To give me a stable income and build a "Happiness Factory" of associated businesses that made their profits for providing happiness in the world. That when anyone cared to ask me where I got my motivation from, it was very largely that I believed in God and had a Christian faith. While I know I don't get into heaven purely because of good works, I'd still like to use my life to give happiness.

That then they themselves might take an interest in a God, which I think, is great. That gives them the very solutions they seek to their problems. That if we shared our skills and products, we wouldn't actually need money. It's a man-made solution for human kind. A large factor in how the government controls you as an individual. And all those authorities and institutions that are there supposedly to help, have in fact caused me far more problems, debt and stress.

I found standing on the streets and evangelising with other church members, even through it was a very respected Church of England Church, gave yourself the reputation of being a nutter, but probably a nice nutter. Being "Happy Graham" allowed me to act and look like a fool. To act like a nutter. But I've met quite a few different attitudes in my lifetime and they are all in my show somewhere as comedy.

People even just laugh now when some old dear says "Why can't you just be nice to one another?". Normally not having witnessed the actual incident. With one child wondering if he's got caught out, or whether he will succeed in getting away with it again. His policy being that when he last got caught he must have done some thing wrong. To find out what it is and make sure he covers his tracks better next time. He learns to corrupt and forge and takes his skills into later life and every position he or she gets.

The other child is the victim. The one that used all defences to try and not let the incident started. They had started with niceness, tried to be reasonable, but knew within in his heart that the other just wanted a fight. Because they had a firm belief they would beat you. Either mentally or physically, but in childhood normally the latter.

Nice guys never win. That's the saying. And I hate proving it right. But decide to refuse to physically fight, then some see that as a sign of weakness and that you are open for abuse. What has surprised me has been some of the people who have decided they could abuse me without retaliation. I made a point of not learning self-defence. My manner alone should be enough to get me through life. I am even more surprised when people in authority decide to jump onto the free abuse gravy train. Sometimes the very people from the Authorities and Institutions we are supposed to be able to trust as citizens.

I am not coloured, I am not gay, I am not a Muslim or Hindu. I am not a small person, I am not a disabled person. I do not come from a socially deprived background.

Instead I am white, heterosexual, Christian, tall, middle-class, middle-aged graduate. Who chose to dedicate his life to entertain rather then use his qualifications to sell things we don't really need. But to use that knowledge to help defend me and help me reach my worthy goals. I have had my successes. But I've always had to fight hard mentally to get them.

Despite, the bullying at school where the Headmaster sided with the bully, the Church Youth Club Leader who was only there to improve his CV trying to remove me from the Youth Club for raising money for the Church, the Father who could have financially and otherwise helped and my family who instead of supporting my aims unrelentingly tried to dissuade me from pursuing my dreams, the Landlords who asked me to leave or made my tenancy a period of crisis, the Companies and staff that abused my employment with them or as a customer, the Bank who dropped me in it when the going got tough, the Council Officials in Bristol putting up red tape to deny benefits I was entitled to, the Police and Traffic Wardens invoking a witch-hunt on me to get me off the road and ruin my business and reputation, the Reverend preaching at Bath Abbey who was the only one person in a summer of busking to abuse my equipment, pulling the cable out of the amplifier despite me saying I was about to stop anyway as I normally did for the church services, the Environmental Health Officer who slapped an illegal ban on me and got away with it, wrecking my business and the Magistrates who have endorsed these abuses. (At least the ones who decided they could stay to at least hear the evidence, then forget the bits they didn't like!). And finally, (At or should I say presently?) the Crown Court Judge who wrecked my legal appeal, by deciding I was well enough to appear at the Appeal I had requested, despite me trying to get an adjournment as I was unwell and despite a doctors letter saying the same.

My main problem in my life and legal history, has been my car. Not my driving, my cars. The fact that poverty (I've lived off about £4,000 a year these last 17 years) has been such that the most I have ever spent on a car was £650, the cheapest one £70. Normally they've been between £200-£400.

Because I simply couldn't pay any more at the time. But am just as safety conscious as the next person, in fact I believe more then a lot of other drivers I've encountered in my many miles. For 15 years, despite the standard of the vehicle I had no points on my licence and drove virtually every day.

Then four years ago my car was towed away from a hospital in Bristol when I was visiting my girlfriend in Intensive care. In a coma from a car crash and her odds not improving. It had been there for 20 minutes.

I eventually complained to the press the Authorities wouldn't refund the tow away fee. After they had told my sister who had paid it on her credit card, through their persuasion, that it wouldn't even touch her account with my pending appeal, that the outcome was very likely to be sympathetic. The press also contracted the Police for a statement and they said it had been there for 3 days. The story made the local front pages.

People warned me what happened if you try to discredit the Police. I refused to believe those stories. My previous experience had always been good and I'd been stopped on the odd occasion for a brake light or going 9 mph over the speed limit. I drove virtually every day and have from the day I passed my test. In fact I have found the Police to be very polite and helpful and always had respect for the tough work they do. But there again I am a polite person with good manners and not all members of the public they stop are Childrens Entertainers, blessed supposedly with patience and wit.

This CD has many stories. It started out being just a CD of my love songs, dedicated to my dog Trouble. Who died 2 years ago after 10 happy years with me. What grieved me was that I hardly got to see her in her final year, because of what happened to me. That while she died at my family home with my mother, I guess waiting for me to come back again became too much of a wait. The defence barriers to the stress, caused when a loved one has been away for too long without contact, having eaten away at the spirit. Until a Vets syringe completed her journey. He advised my mum it wasn't worth ringing me. I would only try to come up and see her and she would just be suffering more.

While I have often questioned this judgement, I think he made a wise decision. But I could have been just the antidote she needed. What caused the grief was my mother. Who had known Trouble was ill but didn't want to tell me. Because she knew I would come rushing back.

My mum didn't tell me because at last I'd just got myself a "Proper Job" as she'd always hoped.

In fact it was a short-term contact for Channel 5 as a Re-Tuner, that was finishing the following week. If only my dog had hung on 1 more week. In fact she only had to hang on for a few more hours.

The news of her death was phoned through as I was setting off home to see my mum and dog for Easter following an argument in a relationship well on the way to breaking up. The job taken trying to raise the money to get back into the business I loved and get my ideas off the ground, despite all the setbacks. To get my own place and my dog back by my side in her final years.

My self-employment was "My Proper Job", my mum and family always failed to understand why.

I kept telling her the solution. Capital. I knew exactly how much I needed, it was very small in business terms, my Dad had it… but was foolishly wasting it on ideas I knew from my training were absolute no-goers. That they would ruin him and take the family with him if they let him go ahead unchecked. If they really wanted me to shine, to let me have the tools that I needed. Which were all in the Business Plan that I had won 2 awards with and been rubber stamped by four bank managers from different branches.

Three years ago it got to me so much I made two very serious attempts on my life. I felt if mankind couldn't judge me properly, now it was time for the God I believed so much in to give his verdict.

His verdict was to make me survive those attempts and live to tell the story. What he didn't tell me was that despite all I'd gone through, and the efforts I made to bring me back from the brink, would be frustrated by another sea of abuse. But instead of ending it all, I've struggled through. Each time with a greater determination to let my story be known. To at least let others who feel they are abused to know that they are not alone.

And through all this, most people simply know me as "Happy Graham". The Childrens Entertainer who put on a crazy show for their kids that they laughed heartily at too.

Or as Grod Groddler. The busker who crooned and joked his way through a busking set in Bath in the summer of `98. The only busker the Bath Council would allow to play in the Square when Prince Charles visited for his 50^th birthday celebration. The busker than asked by a City Councillor to play a free concert in Royal Victoria Park, such was the response to my act from the tourists.

I refused to be abused. I abandoned my legal appeal before I incurred costs I couldn't afford if I'd lost. I wanted to be on my best form for my appeal and had devoted much of the winter to put a cast-iron case. I refused to ruin my chances by presenting my case while feeling drained, exhausted and unwell.

Instead, as finally this CD was almost ready, I decided I should tell my whole story on this very CD. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And simply let those who read it decide and give their verdict. Was I the innocent victim in all these abuses? Is it the knock-on effects of this ill-justice that has caused my problems? Or was I simply, "Looking For Trouble?"

Maybe some people out there would be willing to lend their help and support.

There are no chapters in life, only the transitions between phases of age. I will refrain from using chapters. I will try to tell the story as how it happened in my life and how the knock on effects flowed through. Forcing me to make decisions I didn't want to make. Into situations I had already planned not to be in. It wasn't a case that other people didn't listen, they listened, sometimes even agreed with me. But then did what they wanted to do. What they thought helped, not what actually helped me.

Eventually one huge mess with me at the centre and everybody pointing. With me asking them to refresh their minds. That if people had listened to me in the first place there wouldn't be such a big mess. In fact I had predicted the mess. I had also shown what also was possible for far less effort and stress, and it was wonderful, great, and if money was an interest, there was that too.

For them to at first deny it, but over time some to admit they knew I was right, but didn't want me to win the argument. But two minutes later they are telling you that "Now you are wrong because of…"

And it could be a new situation or fresh evidence they've just dreamt up, their defence mechanism of lies refusing to stop now it's been working for so long. Now it's a quest to prove that I must have done something wrong in my life to validate their defence of something I'd revealed to be a falsehood.

One of the reasons I enjoyed being "Happy Graham Childrens Entertainer" was that my own childhood, which was largely good, was tarnished in my early teens by some cruel bullying. It affected my school life, my social life. With my father being away working in Saudi Arabia, male parental help and support just wasn`t at hand.

Being "Happy Graham" gave me the opportunity of letting quiet kids shine through. Because the reason sometimes that they are normally "Quiet" kids, is because they are being bullied in some way. And probably like me, despise violence. Which is why I chose to study, not turn myself into a prize-fighter.

My early schooling had been at RAF schools. Every three years you moved on. You just had time to make friends, then off you were again. I know that from conversations I've had with similar RAF children how much this alone affects your childhood. You don't really grow up with anybody except the friends you meet at the time, your own family, the radio and the TV.

Until you eventually land, when your father leaves the forces. At last some stability.

Unless your father then elects to make a home for the family in a seaside resort and himself work 3,000 miles away in Saudi Arabia.

I ended up in a class of kids in which most were looking forward to becoming bingo callers, trawlermen, cashiers at the Amusement Arcades or in the local shops café's and restaurants serving people. Not that these are unworthy positions in life. If not, there were always the light industries at the out of town business parks. Making anything from seaside rock, Sarah Lee cakes, Lada cars or at the Abattoir. Else be a, Bed & Breakfast owner, Landlord, Estate Agent, run an Old Folks Home. Or be a Policeman, Traffic Warden, work for the Council. Or be an entertainer.

I was well spoken, intelligent, and wanting to go to university. Ultimately I wanted to run my own business and provide employment for others. I wanted to earn profits, not a wage. I wanted to build a business whose profits would be my future pension. Rather then hand my money over to the likes of Robert Maxwell to invest.

A business empire that would be still going strong for others while I was growing old and weak. That my legacy genuinely to be one of someone whom did as little harm to planet earth as possible in a lifetime, but left people with good thoughts and memories of me. And know I had gone to the God I loved, in the Heaven I believed in.

My business would be a memorial that wouldn't gather dust but continued to thrive and make peoples lives happier. An English style Disneyland, where hopefully you would get a glimpse of heaven. If your Gonna have a dream, make a giant big one. Then even if you only get halfway, the halfway point is further up the road.

As a singer/guitarist and comedian, I wanted to write, create, play, record and perform. We all have to sell something, and usually it's our skills. Either physical or mental, but usually both. Having no money and little backing to start with, I knew it would be a long drawn out affair. But if I started trying, some people might see what I was doing and recognised the quality. That an investor might approach me. I hate asking or having to borrow money. I've worked with pounds and pence, knowing I have the skills to work with far more successfully and productively with far larger amounts. And watched in pain as my dad lost everything he'd worked for in Saudi, including a large golden handshake, in just two years. Then re-mortgaging both his houses on an equally bad venture abroad. Before finally admitting defeat and re-joining the RAF to try and get something behind him for his retirement, two years away. Everything I'd predicted and was shunned, scorned, frequently humiliated and beguiled for trying to stop.

Instead I've had to permanently improvise. Using equipment and computers way out of date. Knowing some eight-year-old kid is playing a violent computer game on a system I would dream of and get far more value from it. And would love to teach that eight year old kid what else a computer will do.

My fear is that the eight year old kid nods his head, shows me what else it can do, but the reason he's playing shoot-um up games is, he knows all that already but it's boring now!

At school in Bridlington I was quite foreign to them. Or it was for me. Their attitude was different. These kids had grown up together and most of them had completely different outlook on life. It was soon assumed I must be mad. But I rarely got a question wrong when asked. I was just amazed that after showing I was capable of reaching correct conclusions, from evidence everyone had an equal right to, that so many got the wrong answers? Nobody there was unintelligent, I was certainly not the most intelligent one in the class, even by my own reckoning.

Of course there were times other people knew the answer and times I got it wrong. But some times, some of them claimed they didn't know the answer, when in fact it was staring them in the face.

My conclusion was they weren't bothered. They were too interested in spouting their own ill-formed opinion then learn what the truth actually was. But at school, these rebels rule by fear, and fear rules. Following the right football team and liking the right rock and pop bands led most of their conversations.

When I refused to fight, the bullies' eyes shone. Easy target. A Christian who believes you should turn the other cheek. For trainee lions I was perfect trainee fodder.

It started off as snide comments. I smiled back. I knew that " Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names can never harm me."

Unfortunately, they knew that too. So soon turned to sticks and stones, not to mention fists, bottles, sharpened pencils and compass points. One day, near the end of the year, the main bully during a Chemistry lesson drew some sulphuric acid in a pipette and blew it in my face. I ran for the taps and washed it off before it could really do anything, though a small amount got in my eye.

The concerned teacher asked me what happened, and despite fear of reprisals told the truth. So far I'd put up with it. This was a step way too far. The teacher turned to the pupil and asked extremely angrily if this was true?

If it had been true, there would be a very high price to pay. So he of course denied it, and was backed up by his friends. They explained how I'd slipped and was just trying to push the blame onto him, "As I always did."

The teacher wasn't completely stupid. She turned and asked the people I'd been working with. None of whom I'd particularly call friends, because no-one wants to associate them selves with someone who's being bullied, lest they fall into the same abuse. Under the threatening eyes and concealed raised fists of the bully and his friends, they claimed simply not have seen what exactly happened. But they knew.

Instead, what resulted from the incident is that the teacher when teaching about the dangers of sulphuric acid to pupils, tells the story of my carelessness and how I almost lost an eye. I know that because she later also taught my younger sister, who knew the truth.

From there it got worse. The bully knew he could have been in some serious trouble by me "Grassing him up." During the school breaks, and even moving from class to class, there were kicks, little thumps in the back, dead-legs and even prodded by compass points and sharpened pencils.

Not from him, but from his peers. He was the leader of the gang. Never actually seen to do anything wrong himself, because he's got other people doing his dirty work for him and a sense of power.

I always tried to stay near the teacher assigned to playground duty. This wasn't a break for me. It was the most vulnerable time. They were always looking for a time to strike. In fact part of their peer group competition is what they'd personally managed to do to me. I told the teachers I trusted, but was met with the reply that they thought I was just being a bit paranoid.

Eventually, it happened. During a lunch break I was walking across the school field to a cricket practice. It meant passing the bully and his gang of sheep.

That’s how the adults described them when they talked to me. Except what they seemed not to appreciate was that they weren't sheep, they were human beings, armed with whatever they could get hold of at that age, deliberately doing the things we were told not to do. And laughing at any punishment that was given. Including girls of course. Teenage girls love rebels, even in church groups.

As I walked across the field I kept my head down and tried to walk briskly away, following all the advice I had been given. Too late, they had noticed me. I looked around for a teacher on playground duty, and couldn't see one. And neither could they.

Suddenly about 20 people were chasing me across the field. I was good at long distance running, in fact had come second in the school cross country, but sprinting wasn't quite my thing. I was soon caught and pinned down. They decided to try and pull my trousers off. In fact the girls were discussing of what they would then do. The blokes had other suggestions. None of which I'd have asked for personally, despite now quite a creative mind in my adult life when it comes to sex!

Fortunately for me, twenty kids running after one other attracted a teacher's attention. He happened to be looking out of the staff room window. He and a colleague he raced out to help and they quickly scattered. My shirt and trousers were ripped in several places but I'd managed to keep them up. He escorted me battered, humiliated, trying hard not to cry, to the Medical Room

Covered in mud and bruises after nearly being raped in the school playground, in tears I confessed to the Head Master about all the things that were going on. He immediately called out of class the ringleader. Thirty minutes later I was called into the headmaster's office, to face my tormentor.

The headmaster had a re-assuring arm around this thug, who I hope has mellowed over the years. But if you read this, know that you made my life hell.

The headmaster turned to me and said "I`ve had a word with "XXXXX" and he`s told me that he didn`t realise that you were taking him so seriously, he was just having a joke that went wrong. He`s promised me he will stop and now wants to apologise." and gave him a nudge to do so.

His apology?

"No I don't, I want to fight him. He's a queer. I may not be able to get him at school I`ll find him outside for grassing me up."

Maybe not quite expecting him to say this, the headmaster quickly stopped him and put his arm tighter around him. He then said something I'll always remember. "Look, "XXXXX" and I are friends, and he`s made a promise that all this is going to stop and I have every belief he'll be as good as his word."

Under his arm, "XXXXX" stood grinning at me. And I think we both knew what was actually going to happen next.

It happened a few weeks later in fact. It was very difficult for it to happen, as I had special permission to go to school ten minutes late and leave five minutes early. The teachers who taught me were informed of the bullying.

This made me embarrassed. The only conclusion they would draw was that I was weak. Not that I had the right, not to fight. To do so was against the beliefs I had heard at both school and church, and saw the reasons why we shouldn't do certain things.

People who fight and bear arms have a history of causing grief to everyone around and eventually the wrongdoer. But many suffer by each sin we do. Unfortunately we all sin through life. It's a case of how good your conscience is and how much you are prepared to work on your weaknesses. Not to get rid of them, but turn them also to strengths. God created everything. We have the freedom to use and blend them. What you can blend, is what you choose to study and master as an individual.

But the willing sinner likes to displace those around him and always has a reason up his sleeve. He is seeking his justice. But many times when you are able to get to the root, you know that the actual problem started within.

But by then all those who were trying to keep an honest straight path had been pulled off their intended direction. Time had to be spent sorting out the mess. People had lost their tempers and many grew ill from frustration. There have been also many fatalities. Those pressed to far, those forced to jump and those who were made to feel forced to jump. The actual realities of life's deliberate wrongdoing.

I had been made safe at school during the week, but the weekend everyone was kindda off duty at the school fete. He tracked me down, at the school fete.

I was just on my way home from an enjoyable day when I heard shouting of "Look there he is!"

I turned to see several people on bicycles racing towards me. Soon I was surrounded. Shortly "XXXX" joined me in the ring.

It wasn`t much of a fight. I went down deliberately after taking a couple of punches and had thrown a light one back. Just to show him I would if I really had to. But I don`t think it would have been a good idea to start winning the fight, because my guess is that the others might have come to his aid.

Even then, if it'd turned out to be a real scrap, I'm not really a betting man, I've worked in too many bookies and arcades to know that one, but my money would have been on him. And he knew it. And he knew that I knew it. Tyson meets Prince Naseem.

The fact is, the guy did have a brain on him. He was later demoted for Maths and put into a set where the headmaster was the teacher. I know this because I got demoted too. When they read out the names of those who would be "Learning in another class." I silently cheered when I heard his name. At last I was safe for at least one lesson. The bullying had now begun effect my learning, especially Maths. Now I had a chance to concentrate. Imagine then my silent groan when I then heard my name called.

The fact is, we both asked not to be demoted. He felt he was being abused because he felt he was only being switched class was so he could be "Watched" by the headmaster. Mine was that with him out of the class, now I could concentrate and catch up. That I knew I had the ability and now I had the motivation. Our pleas were both heard and deferred. If we wanted to be in the other set, we would have to prove we were good enough. There would be regular tests, with opportunities to move to the "Higher set".

I confided in my friend Rob, who helped keep quite a few attacks at bay. A well built gentle giant and an intelligent chap. But loved fishing while I struggled to get a grip with the fascination. He even took a girl for a first date worm digging with him. She didn't last long! He though is still a friend I am in contact with and still meet up with occasionally.

His advice was not to worry, at least being in the same class, it was the headmaster who was the teacher. That we would be learning more or less the same material, and as the headmaster was there, I should be more at ease to concentrate. That maybe it WAS being done deliberately, so the headmaster could personally monitor how we responded.

The fact is, if it was a ploy, it didn't work.

What they didn't account for is those person like "XXXX" always get what THEY want. His only escape from this threatening environment was to suddenly start excelling at Maths. He even went for extra lessons and made a point of saying that the only reason was because he didn't want to be in the same room as the headmaster. He didn't want "HIM" teaching him Maths.

His determination to get out that class suddenly made him a Maths genius. Suddenly he was able to come up with the right answers, until they had no option but to promote him.

Some would say that this was an educational success. The fact is that I was the one aiming for University, not him. His goals were different to mine.

I wasn't stupid. I wanted to be as far away from this bully as possible. At first I tried hard for good results, then realised what he was doing. If we'd both shown consistent performance we BOTH would have got promotion. He would have gained what he wanted. I wouldn't have. For me, the best thing was not to achieve. At first I tried cheating. Deliberately putting the wrong answers down on the tests.

What happened was that I was castigated in front of the whole class when the headmaster gave out the results. That if I'd had any designs on getting the promotion that I'd asked him for, then I was doing more to prove that I was where I should be. It was like a no-win/no-win situation.

I hate getting things wrong. I like to be informed and to know the answer. I decided the best way for me to fail the tests was simply to stop listening. To make myself ignorant of the information, as others appeared to be doing. To try and forget it if it made sense. I simply didn't want to know it.

I hated doing that just as much, but now I didn't want to be promoted. I wanted some peace at school, away from the eyes of my tormentor and it was also my protest to God for not having answered my prayer. In fact he'd really taken the piss.

The result is that my Maths naturally suffered and when we moved to the Upper School there was concern of which stream to put me in, O level or CSE? They decided that I should follow the O level stream, but be put in CSE stream for Maths.

I knew Universities required a Maths O level. Most good jobs required a Maths O level. And guess who was also placed in the CSE stream. His effort had somewhat subsided after gaining his promotion.

However, a knight in shining white armour came to my aid. Occasionally we all need one. To take the problem over and get justice resolved. This in our childhood is our parents. And my dad was this knight on one of his rare trips home from Saudi.

He sat down with the Upper School Headmaster and the two Maths teachers. Two of the three I understand later got divorced with one marrying a pupil they'd been dating, the other divorcing and running off with a wedded member of staff. All were good teachers though, and the Headmaster breathed silent Authority. He ruled by fear and humour. I respected them all and still do. Life is Life.

For over two hours my dad said his piece.

Their response was they felt that at best, I was the fourth best at Maths in the CSE class.

Four is my lucky number folks. It used to be one, then it was three, and quoted both whenever I was asked what my lucky number was for years. Then I decided you could only have one lucky number so I added them together.

Since that childhood addition four is the number I quote as being my lucky number. Life has shown me that on many occasions it has been fourth time lucky. But by then, you know yourself you've earned it. "It" didn't come easy. Whatever "It" was.

My dad is a Yorkshireman, and carries with him their traits, mindset and character. And is proud of it too, as all Yorkshireman are. But not enough to drive me up from RAF Cosford when being born to ensure I could play cricket for the county. No bloody foreigners allowed at Yorkshire CC! We gave them Bradford, what more do they want? Times have changed. Attitudes, more slowly though.

He told them that if they think I was only fourth best, then why not promote all four? Or at least give them the choice? He was presented with the "Class sizes" chestnut. He responded that maybe that the O level set be asked if any would prefer to transfer to the CSE class?

From what I understand from my dad, they reluctantly agreed. Of the four asked if they would like the opportunity of doing O level instead of CSE, three took up the offer. Including myself.

Initially no-one responded to the offer of moving to the CSE class, so extra desks were brought in. I was made aware by the teacher, that he wasn't very happy about it. My dad told me now I couldn't go and let him down. Two weeks went by and three in the O level set asked if they could still take up the offer to move to the CSE class, as they knew they would struggle. Size was not a problem and never should be. It's how you use it.

Suddenly, I had an awful lot of pressure on me. Everyone was watching me. I began to get a bit paranoid about it. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was crap at Maths? Maybe because I'd deliberately stopped listening, the foundation wasn't there to build on. This soon became the case.

The Maths we were doing required a good understanding of the previous Maths. I'd deliberately not listened, so not to be promoted. The Physics also required a fairly solid Maths understanding. I began to struggle and fall behind.

My dad began to buy me Maths beginner's books. I felt like a child, but such was my paranoia, I had to start from the very bottom again brick by brick. While trying to learn the new stuff which required an understanding of the old. My new friends helped occasionally but it began to burden me. I'd struggle through the homework, which took hours, but still came back marked wrong. My dad, who is good at Maths, was away in Saudi. But the money could buy me any book I wished.

The fact was, I wanted someone to go through it with me. While the bullying had virtually gone away, my friends I always felt were reluctant friends. Still wary of associating themselves with my past. Believing there must have been a reason why I had been bullied. I must have done something wrong to deserve it. Some even asked me to tell them what it was I'd done to upset them, to get it off my chest. When I explained my Christian belief they laughed and said that it was all a bit dated wasn't it? That the worlds gone on a long way since the Bible was written. Now we know the food chain. Nature demands you fight so fight hard and try to fight fair. But you must fight.

I was exasperated. But you don't! What if we stopped, found each other's skills and discussed the differences while learning about the roots of the belief? But working together as we do so, not isolating ourselves and cultures. At the end, let God judge. But be part f the Good on this Earth

They went away saying that if I didn't want to take their advice then not to be surprised if I stay a victim for the rest of my life. It was time for me to "Modernise my views."

The root cause of my bullying left the teachers a bit baffled too. I was such a nice polite bright kid. Maybe it was my accent not being regional was their best guess and the explanation given to my parents.

So I tried to adopt a few Yorkshire words into my vocabulary and get a grip on the East Yorkshire accent. Though calling a sweet "A Goodie" seemed a bit childish to me at 13. Calling a child a "Bairn" to me was to disrespect the child, giving it an irrelevant title.

I know now this to be untrue. It is to these people an affection word for a young kid that helps it and them to regionalise themselves.

I came to the conclusion I'd learnt to speak better English when I was away in Germany. "Spoken English" was the only O Level I actually scored an "A" certification. Few "A"s were handed out that year for that. But

Without friends to turn to for help with homework, I was left to books and my mum. God bless my mum, she can certainly add up. But calculus left her in tears returning to do the dishes. My older sister was very strong in English, but failed her Maths badly. Something that burdened her for years but wanted an O level. After several attempts she got it years later. To my fullest admiration.

Of the three promoted pupils in Maths, only one gained an O level. And also an O level in Physics. In fact he ended up with nine o levels, in the top ten for the school that year. Then announced he was taking A level Maths, Physics and Economics at sixth form.

It was a close run thing but I made it. I soon dropped out of the A Level Physics and Maths and failed the Economics. However, I retook the Economics six months later. I announced I wasn't going to lessons, I'd study alone in the Library. I was told I must attend the lessons. I did, but rarely put my hand up to answer the questions. Content alone I had gained the knowledge. I needed a grade D to get to Middlesex Poly to study " for a Business Studies HND. I would start there and fight to get on a the degree course. I got the D, despite learning only half the course work, but knew that half like the back of my hand. I came top of the HND course in the first year, and walked out of Hendeon seven years having entered, with a Desmond in my hand. (A 2:2 Honours Degree, so named because of South Africa's Reverend Desmond Tutu. Another inspiration of mine for his achievements in his country.) I also gained a Diploma in marketing from the Chartered Institute of Marketing. But was now well known also in North London for being "Happy Graham" and a DJ.

But I did end up also with 2 CSE's at school.

CSE Grade 2 for Accounts, and CSE Grade 4…… for Music!

Taken as relief during my "A" level's in the Sixth Form, it is my lowest educational grade. But I like to work on my weaknesses and turn them into strengths. I know it normally just requires time and patience, learning and understanding. I hope that maybe they might care to check out this CD and at least re-appraise me. (Though because we all have different musical tastes, some might think the Grade 4 was a little on the high side and I should listen to Authority!) next I need urgently to take care of the accounts!

Sometimes it means not being afraid to ask for help when you desperately need it. But in the knowledge that you might have to accept an ignorant "No" as the answer.

To find you are beginning to count an awful lot of "No's" while you are still saying "Yes" to fellow seekers, if I could help them. Otherwise directing them towards someone who I felt could help them.

I hate injustice to others. But also I don't like it for myself. I just thought it would never happen to me! That was the point of getting an education. To learn about the pitfalls and how to avoid them and to teach others lest they fall into the traps. To help them out if they've already fallen. I enjoy helping people.

I was dissuaded from taking "DRAMA" at O level or CSE, as it wasn't considered a serious subject. Even though it was a subject I loved, and appeared in all the schools productions. (Including as a drummer for a school musical!) I also enjoyed writing. Poems, songs, short stories, jokes and sketches. I can't draw though. I can arrange artwork, but I can't draw or paint that well. Even my stick men don't look like stick men! I therefore have an appreciation of people of whom it is a natural art and who believe all people are capable of mastering it, if they only tried and concentrated. But couldn't themselves write a song if they had Paul Simon by their side helping them.

The school drama teacher, and producer of the school plays, was my English teacher. His eventual replacement had a lot to follow, but also began to put on some great productions himself.

But this first English teacher and I hope he reads this, was a breath of fresh air and every teacher should be taught to be like him, in my humble opinion. He ruled his class fairly but with cynicism and wit. And made sure we learnt about the English he cared so much for. Made Shakespeare come to life. That we learn to express ourselves by writing, as well as reading.

I don't read much. I love to write. I love to create. There are better mediums in the world today then books. If people wonder why the A level tests results are going up, I believe it is that kids don't just learn from books nowadays.

Now it's on a PC. One to one with a teacher that goes at their rates. That brings up the information they don't understand at a click of a button. Those who want information can find it easily. With the choice of reading about it, watching videos about it, hearing sound files on the subject etc etc. Learning becomes more fun and interesting. The only question is, how much do you want to learn? Books though, rightly have their place still.

When I was studying though, it was with the more or less the same kids in the same class, moving from lesson to lesson. Some of them didn't want to learn, so set about instead disrupting the class. Deliberately asking silly questions. Seeing who could wind the teacher up first. Safe in the knowledge that teachers couldn't really do anything to them nowadays could they? And I was sometimes their muse. Until the bully got his way and got the fight he wanted and won.

I had been warned by a social worker that was assigned to me, that in reality, that is what probably would happen. There would be somewhere down the path a showdown, even though it was the very thing I was trying to avoid.

I didn`t want to fight. Firstly it was against my deep Christian faith, and secondly, I was at school to study. I was someone who wanted to go to university. To learn to do something good for the world, and to learn about the world I lived in. To learn to communicate better with people and teach that we don't have to fight. In a fight there is only one winner, and they walk from the battle bruised and shaken. But if we shared and appreciated how all cultures contribute to world society, we walk together and all win.

At school Christianity was pushed under the carpet it seemed. They taught that all religions and cultures were important. Instead of conflict we should try and gain the means to understand them, their culture, their religion, their careers and dreams. Their lives and future legacies.

Though I was suppressed from spouting my own faith, which I believed was the faith that gave England it's laws and rules of conduct. A teacher suggested I gave up my faith and tried to be a bit more normal. That maybe I would find acceptance in the class and outside school a little easier?

Waiting for the "Showdown" to happen, was a time of just sheer terror for me. Every time I went out I had to be completely vigilant. I learnt a lot about being aware of where you are and who is in that room and their likely threat of attack. Rather then going out and enjoying myself. I still think like that. But now I know what masks to put on for each situation. Until terror takes hold.

After the showdown, things did die down a bit. But I still lived and studied in fear. I vowed one day I when I was away from these people I would tell my story. But found in life I am forever surrounded by these people. Many of them are feeling that because they got away with it at home and school that they would get away with in life.

They learnt in childhood to lie and conceal from parents and teachers. In adult life they use the same skills to defy Councils, Police, Magistrates and Judges. No doubt a few entered these Authorities too. They rule by fear and respond with violence when needed. Until even the Authorities look for easier targets who are more likely to accept their punishments and pay their fines to pay for their existance.

In my learning's on human behaviour, I learn that greater minds then mind have singled out the "Broken Home as a major contributor to such ills of society. On both bullies and victims. While my parents were and still are in a strong marriage, one feature of the marriage was my father was rarely there. When not at work, he was always down the chess club or playing cricket. His loves of life, which he passed down to me. Though I have done little of either for years. But in many ways used the disciplines and skills learnt in other fields. Then he moved away virtually completely.

After coming out the forces my father had little money to buy a house. He elected to work away in Saudi Arabia for "a couple of years", which turned into 17 years.

Earning money that he lost in two years following a business venture I had advised him strongly against. Losing even more on his second venture, that I screamed at the family beforehand would take him and us beyond ruin. I forecast hell and hell it was.

But then they deny I ever said it. Some traits die hard. At one stage I started taping phone calls. To prove it was they that were forgetting the conversations we'd previously had. It proved me right but they were just offended I'd taped the calls. That to do so I must be unstable. But what I was trying to point out was that they simply were refusing to listen. Casting their votes on the sweetness of dad's favour. That he was the one of wisdom in the family. Dad was from whom we drew our intelligence. But the thing I knew was, he didn't have a clue about business. And was about to make all the mistakes I'd been trained to spot. My family thought me a clown and my father smiled and thoroughly agreed.

It`s only later on in life you learn the effect a missing parent actually does to a child. No matter what the good effort of the single parent left to cope alone. While my father was away because of work and money, not prison, divorce or mistresses, the result is the same.

While the gang ringleader still persecuted me, the bullying largely stopped after the fight. So much so, that one day I decided to ask him why he had done it. His words were important to me. I never wanted to be victimised like that again. He was glad that I had turned to him for advice. More power.

I remember his words clearly. He smiled and said

"You've got victim written all over your face, and always will do. Unless you do something to stop it. Make people too scared to touch and they'll look for easier victims. You can start by stop calling yourself a Christian. That's asking for trouble in this day and age. Start smoking, start swearing and stop being such a f***ing goodie-goodie."

Years later I am a nicotine-addicted goodie-goodie who screams the vilest abuse at his computer when it crashes for no apparent reason. In making this CD I'm glad I didn't use a "Types-As-You-Talk", because it's defaults settings would become swear words.

I've also heard far worse stories then mine on bullying. Sometimes with fatal consequences. Sometimes the kids who cause the most torment to innocents are the most protected. God bless you Jamie Bulger and my respect goes to your tortured parents.

Though he is one of many victims where society reels back in surprise and disgust when it happens, then appear to forget it. Instead some set to work to free the poor murderers and tormentors into our society at the earliest opportunity. Explaining they are "Victims of society". Then usually get the best solicitors to fight their corner, paid for by Legal Aid." With Stephen Lawrence the alleged killers didn't have to be freed in such a way, because "The Law" keeps them out of prison.

Christianity and it's morals erode from our school and slowly from our very society. Or so our society wishes to believe. The psychologists actively try to steer religious fundamentalists into the loony bin. If you talk to God, it's called praying. When God talks to you, that's paranoid schizophrenia.

With Christianity damped down, to allow people to explore "Other faiths of which we should be more tolerant of", instead people place there faith on their size and abilities in a dog eat dog world. They even scorn Christianity, but still preach we should more understanding of other religions and cultures. Paganism certainly has made a strong comeback into English society. By many who want "Anything but Christianity." And sometimes decide to seek the exact opposite.

Some people cope differently. It`s certainly a lesson in standing on your own two feet and my independent character I believe stems from those days when my father wasn`t there. He too is a very independent guy. The problem was, like all kids I kept falling over. Mainly though because I was being pushed too often. But I couldn`t run to my father for some basic advice and lessons in life. Even when I wrote to him, his advice was six to eight weeks too late and a new crisis had begun. The advantage of those days, is I`m now normally one of those "Cool-heads" when it gets to a crisis, largely because I`ve faced so many in my short life. When to hide and when to stand up and shout.

My refuge for normality, spirituality and sociability during these torrid school days was Bridlington Priory Church. I became a member of their choir, Youth Club, Pathfinders, C.Y.F.A. and prayer groups. The people were friendly and cheerful and it was a warm place to be. This was my normality. People helping each other. Finding out people's goals and helping them prepare to reach them.

It was also quite cliquey. Because whatever "new" fellowship group was set up, it was always the same faces that attended. Only the name of the group and the age changed. The Youth Group though is when we all relaxed. We also entered various sporting tournaments. This was my great joy of the Priory Youth Club. Because no matter what we entered, everyone wanted to be drawn against us because they thought it would be an easy tie.

In fact over the years we won everything. The cricket, the football, table tennis, swimming, even hockey. Whatever we entered we started being the "easy team" to the underdog cheered onto victory by the other teams in the final.

The Youth club also contained some of the best musicians from the School Orchestra, and the best voices of the school belonged to the Priory Church Choir. Our parents were invited once a year to "The Priory Church Youth Club Concert." A mixture of music, comedy, dancing, songs and poetry.

I looked forward to them every year and was always heavily involved. For three years running I wrote a comedy for those evening. Twenty years later they are still digging them up and performing them.

It was also where I started song writing. Four friends at the youth club decided they were going to form a band. I desperately wanted to be in it. But had no musical skill. Except I could sing and perform a bit. But the fact was that all of them had better musically trained voices then me.

I had another large handicap, which I still have. I couldn't read music. I busked even when I sang for the choir. I would just listen to what everyone was singing in the rehearsals until I got the melody for my part. I started in the trebles, moved to alto and then to tenor, sometimes during the same bar of music. My eventual, permanent move to tenor coming when, despite my cricketing skills, I dropped two balls.

But for all those years I was in the choir, at rehearsals I simply stared at the music and when it went up I went up, and when it was down I went down. I pitched my note just after the persons next to me had sang their note and joined in, following a split second behind. And would try and memorise the whole thing before we performed it on the Sunday. That was about my musical skills. I couldn't read music.

The band at the Youth Club did want a drummer though. I offered, they laughed, and I asked again and again until one of the Youth Group leaders asked them to give me a try.

The first kit I played consisted of variously sized cardboard boxes and a couple of pan lids held up by string. You may guess that it didn't sound that great. When I got going it sounded even worse. Eventually someone took pity and sold us a drum kit for £40. This gave me extra motivation and when four months later someone showed me how to set the snare drum up. Apparently it isn't lined up amongst the tom-toms, it sits upright in front of you by your knees. I was getting better then crap.

I wrote a song and managed to persuade them to let me sing it. Along with Elvis Presley's "Blue Suede Shoes" because I'd learnt a bit of "Rock 'n' Roll" dancing as well. The next Priory Church Youth Club Disco was the premier of "The Light Emitting Diodes." We played 6 numbers, including "Gangsters" by "The Specials" twice and "Don't Bring Me Down" by ELO where I got a "Cardboard Box" solo.

I'd always enjoyed writing, even at that age, and soon started reeling off some songs. The problem was trying to get the band to play them. They preferred to do covers of chart songs and were collaborating together on other material. It was them against me at some rehearsals.

A further problem was that while I knew in my head what music I wanted. I couldn't play any instrument or write the music for them. Instead I used to sing what I wanted and improvise the sounds I wanted from their instruments. Normally to much laughter from them and much frustration for me. I couldn't communicate musically with them because they had been studying and playing music for several years. They had grown up with it and all ended up with Grade Eight's in music. Why should they listen to me?

My younger sister had been bought a guitar a couple of years earlier which had been collecting dust. She let me borrow it and began to teach myself to play. I was just about to give it as a bad job when my mum bought for me a book called "The Complete Beatles". As I flicked through it I saw the names of some of my favourite songs. I'd heard about the Beatles, that they were the famous band when my mum was young. Now it was the Bay City Rollers and suffered my elder sister dressing up in her tartan "Roller Gear" to watch "Shang-A-Lang" and scream "Lesley!" at the telly. My father delighted in reporting to my sister, as her hero Lesley began to run people over and shoot at his fans. Heady days.

I'd never associated various songs I liked from the radio as being by the Beatles. This book was a treasure. These were the types of songs I wanted to play. Most of the songs had easy chords and song by song you learnt new chords. It made learning more fun and more motivating. I felt if I could learn to play some of these songs on the guitar, I could later perform them! People liked these songs.

Eventually I began to run out of songs as new chords seemed impossible for my fingers, then became bored of singing the same ones over and over again. I did enjoy experimenting putting different chord sequences together and even tried a bit of lead and finger-picking. I decided instead of trying to learn harder chords, to start writing songs again, with my new musical skills. The first decent song I wrote was one called "Valentine" which was for my girlfriend at the time. It became over time to become "Words of Love".

Then the lead guitarist/singer of "The CB Blues Band", another church friend, an ageing rocker who gave me my next job behind the drums, turned me onto Eric Clapton. Who became a hero to me and someone whose career I've watched from that day. I love singing his song, "Wonderful Tonight", but his playing inspired me to learn some lead guitar as well. Then it was Hendrix, Knofler and the late Stevie Ray Vaughn, a showman right up there with Hendrix.

But then came the shock news one-day. A team of experts had inspected the Priory Church and found it was decaying, and that the roof could cave in any minute. The repairs would be long and expensive. The "Save the Priory Fund" was set up and developed into "The Bridlington Priory Restoration Fund."

I wanted to help, and thought it would be a good idea for members of the Youth Club to raise money independently as well as at their events. To show we cared and could organise ourselves.

I could now play the guitar fairly well now and so could a couple of other friends. As it was nearing Christmas I persuaded everyone to come carol singing with me. That we'd go out every night from the 12^th to the 24^th December to raise money for the restoration fund.

But, we were to do it in secrecy and surprise the Rector James Nolan by turning up at his Rectory on Christmas Eve with a surprise donation. Maybe even invite the local paper to get a nice Christmas story and picture. It would give the Appeal more publicity.

It was difficult to keep it secret and after a few days the Youth Club leaders knew basically what we were doing. They were quite impressed that we were doing it off our own back. And surprised it was me who had organised it. But I wanted to give something back and enjoyed raising money in this way. Because we sounded semi-good and helped make the Christmas Spirit at the doors we knocked at. People also liked the fact that we were raising money for a cause, not for ourselves.

Except for one person. The Chairman of the Youth Club. A man who thought being a Youth Leader was simply a case of putting on a pair of slack jeans. Yet because of his seniority at the church and in public life, he had to give the OK to all activities. At church he was one of the Church Wardens, in life the Mayors Secretary and a Justice of the Peace. A Magistrate, in other words. A man who had his fingers in quite a few pies. Leader of the Church Youth Group probably looked good on his CV.

Except, most of the kids simply tried to steer clear of him. The other leaders and helpers were down to earth people from the church. He was the Boss. And he thought I was just "Looking For Trouble."

To him his carol singing was a rebel faction. He called us into the Youth Club and said that while everyone appreciated the efforts we were making, it was unfortunately illegal. We were doing it without a licence. That the church wouldn't be able to accept our donation as it had been knowingly illegally gained. We should try and give the money back to the people who'd donated.

Of course there was an upside. While it normally took two weeks to get a licence from the council, he would try his best to get it pushed through by the end of the week. That would give us a rest.

"Is that Okay and fair everyone?" he asked scanning everyone's faces but deep into my eyes. They began to nod, but were quite surprised by what they'd heard.

I didn't nod. I said "So what about all the other carol singers going around Bridlington. Have they got licences? Do you plan to have the ones who haven't arrested?"

He looked a bit stunned but played the politician. "Technically they could be arrested yes, but it's more likely they would be asked to stop and go home."

"Okay then" I smiled. "As long as I'm not going to be arrested, anyone who wants to join me, same meeting place tonight, same time. If not I`ll do it alone." As I walked out his head grew two inches and looked as it was going to burst like a stressed tomato. I made every vein on his head stand to quick attention. With a gaze that said "No-one says anything like that to me and gets away with it."

The rest were warned not to join me. One by one they later on began to phone me and come up with excuses of why they couldn't make it that evening. I told each one they were welcome to join at any point that evening or the following evenings. That I thought God would disagree with our Chairman on this one. Four turned up, the following night six, then eight, then soon back to full strength.

His next move was apparently to tell the Rector, to ruin the surprise. He explained to us at the next Youth Club. He had felt it would be unfair for us to suddenly turn up at his door on Christmas Eve. It was a very busy time for the Rector. He knew. He organised the Rectors diary.

He had also advised him that if we defied him, that he should personally come and tell us that he would not be allowed to receive money that he knew had been illegally obtained. The church's reputation and that of the fund must remain in tact at all times.

We defied him and turned up at his door at 7:30pm, after a tip off from another Youth Club leader to when the Rector would be "Having a short break from his duties."

He gladly accepted the money with as much fake surprise as he could muster because "He didn't want to let the kids down." We knew he was a bit out of touch. We knew he knew, it wasn't that much of a surprise! He was also happy to pose for the photographs for the local paper after the press got an anonymous tip-off. Not the first I've given.

We did the same for the next three years and were never challenged by Police Officers or concerned members of the Public. We also raised four times more then we'd originally anticipated. But I count this as my first brush with the law.

He bided his time for his revenge. I unwittingly gave him the opportunity.

Because after Easter Sunday, is "Low Sunday." But our Rector thought that was too depressing, so turned it into "Hello!" Sunday. A service where during it you had to wander through the pews saying "Hello" to someone you've never met before or talked to. Or someone you'd like to know better.

It was a regular event at church, despite the obvious embarrassment of it for some. They preferred to be quiet and anonymous in church and felt their rights had been violated. By now I was well known to most in the church, especially as a bit of a practical joker.

In fact I wasn't a practical joker, I just tried to be funny verbally and intelligently. Responding to what people were saying to let them know I was listening and for them to smile, relax, and enjoy the conversation. That serious knowledge could flow but with comedy to enjoy the experience.

This particular "Hello! Sunday" service, the Rector had an embarrassing problem. He'd just given his sermon on why he had made "Low Sunday ", "Hello! Sunday!" How we should greet strangers and that we should now move amongst one another and say "Hello!"

Except everybody froze. Nobody wanted to be the one to make the first move.

A bit befuddled by this the Rector said "Come on somebody! Make a start! Offer your hand to someone you hardly know and greet them!"

So I did.

I stood up, moved down the pew, walked up the aisle and everyone froze further as I walked up to the pulpit and offered my hand to the Rector. He waved it away and told me quietly to go and sit down.

I was completely stunned, and turned to face everyone's eyes. As I turned I could tell by the Rectors face that he realised what a mistake he had just made. But I walked back down the aisle to surprised smiles and gasps. Except for the Youth Club Chairman. His face has half thunder and half smiling. I returned to my seat, probably blood red with embarrassment. With fear of what consequences lay ahead. Angry that my gesture had been mis-interpreted.

Or should I say my face deepened to that of deep pomegranate red. To use a description that Oscar Wilde overused with gay abandonment in his works. Every time something was red he would describe it as pomegranate red. Not once did he us other adjectives such as "as red as a baboons arse." As I read some of his work I knew I could do a bit better. It inspired me that he was considered one of the greats. What did that make me? Such was the private modesty of my youth. Though I love some of the quotes attributed to the man.

After the service a message was sent to me to meet The Chairman of the Youth Club at The Priory Church Rooms. I could tell by the faces on the way in it was going to be more then a quick "Hello!" The other Church Youth Group Leaders were in there as well. They didn't look very happy and looked as if they were under orders not to utter a word. One was literally chewing his lip.

In front of them all he said that it hadn't been for the support of the other leaders, he would have had me immediately suspended from all Church Youth Group and Choir activities. In fact he still very much felt that way. But I should at the very least arrange a meeting with Reverend and apologise. That I had wrecked the whole Sunday Service and made a mockery out of the Rector, in front of the whole church. What the hell did I think I was doing?

I replied that quite simply it was a bit of a joke that had gone badly wrong. The fact was that I didn't know the Rector that well, and that I had thought that by offering my hand to him, that would have the ball rolling. The problem only occurred because he wasn't prepared to practice what he had just preached. That, is what the fuss was about. I felt I had done nothing wrong.

More veins on forehead. He shouted that I ought to very seriously consider apologising to the Rector for embarrassing him, especially if I wanted to remain a member of the Youth Club. That he personally would see the Rector and find a time that was convenient for him to receive me. I should contact him in a couple of days to find out what time was suitable. That the Rectors diary was already very busy and he personally was angry that the consequences of my foolish actions would throw the whole weeks timings out, which he'd spent four hours putting together the previous night. My actions had caused problems for him know as well.

I replied that I had already made up my mind to apologise to the Rector. It had never been my intention to embarrass him. But pointed out that far from ruin the service, it did cause a bit of a stir, but after that, everyone did start the "saying Hello!" procedure. It did at least crack the ice. But I would arrange my own meeting. Not do it via him. And that as far as I was concerned, as long as he was a leader at that Youth Club, I wasn't coming back.

I arranged to see the Reverend during the week. I was actually very nervous about meeting him. Because I hardly knew him or he me. We just knew each others reputations. We had met once though. He could probably remember me when he was once invited to judge the Youth Club Fancy Dress Competition. I'd just written "God" on my nose. While judging the competition it came to my turn and the joke worked a treat. "And what have you come as?" My reply with a smile, "God-Only-Nose", to which a corner of his cheek had turned and he simply waved me on. Much in the same way as had on "Hello Sunday."

When I turned up at the Rectory he quickly ushered me inside, thanked me for coming and asked me to sit down. Before I could apologise he began to explain that he realised from the moments the words had left his lips and began waving me away, he realised what he'd just done. But it was too late. I had just completely thrown him and caught him on the hop. He apologised for how embarrassed he must have made me. That the following Sunday he would point out that the incident was his mistake, not mine. And to his credit he did. I still apologised that maybe I should have thought it through a bit more and considered the consequences if it had gone wrong.

As I was walking out, very relieved he'd been so good and understanding about it, as a way of saying goodbye, he said that he looked forward to seeing me again at the Youth Club. I replied that it would only be a possibility when Mr Wilson was no longer a leader there.

My absence I think was very noted over the next six weeks. I missed it and was about to climb off my high horse, when unexpectedly I heard that he had resigned as Chairman of the Youth Club. Apparently his work at the Council was making it a bit too hectic for him to continue to do the job.

I'm sure some were sad to see him go. He remained a Stalwart of the Church and despite my prejudices, I'm sure he did a lot of good work for the Church, and even the Youth Club. But he just didn't fit in at a Youth Club. He had to run anything he was involved with. He was a powerful man that people were scared to challenge or cross. Or you might have been "Looking For Trouble."

I had always said the SCSI CD Re-writer was faulty. For 7 months. In fact when I first decided to make my CD, I approached 3D computers in Chippenham and simply asked "What is the cheapest way I can convert my computer to make my own CDs?" it turned out to be one of the most expensive questions I'd ever asked. Though it needn't have been.

Originally it sounded good. That all I needed was "Easy CD Creator Deluxe" software and a cheap MATSUMI IDE CD writer. Though a SCSI CD RE-Writer was the preferable, but expensive choice.

However, the salesperson cheerfully told me that the shop had recently produced several CDs for the marketing campaign for "Shell", and had used the Mitsumi and the "Easy CD Creator" software and had got great results. On this recommendation I bought both. As well as a new hard disk as I would need extra memory to store my CD files before making my CD.

I had no problems fitting the hard drive, but refused to load up.

The shop said to bring it in and for £25 they would install it. That I didn't have the technical "know-how" to fit one.

Not being able to afford £25 and with the shop miles away in Chippenham, I spent all night reading the manuals. Eventually I found the problem. The hard Drive was 4 Gigabyte. Windows 95 could only recognise hard Disks of 2 Gigabyte. Therefore you simply had to partition the hard drive into 2 separate drives of 2 Gigabyte. Which was a very simple procedure. It is also a very well known restriction, which the shop could have easily told me. Instead they'd rather have earned themselves an easy £25 and left me in the dark.

It wasted me three days, and was very frustrating. I naturally wanted to knock out a test CD just to make sure I had the capability. After 3 days I hadn't even been able to try the Easy CD Creator program because I couldn't get the new Hard Drive working. Now I was ready at last!

For the next week I tried in vain to get the program to work. First the recordings I made to the hard drive sounded like a warped record. Then when I tried to at least make a test CD, the program refused to recognise the CD Writer.

I rang the shop several times, who simply offered to look at the problem for £25 an hour, if I brought my computer up to them. But I'd have to wait 3 days, as their technical support dept was very busy at present. Instead I emailed the manufacturers of the program and the CD Writer.

Their reply was the same. This program is not designed to work with that particular CD Writer. That while a firmware and program download were available on the Internet to help fix the problem, it was better to replace the CD Writer with one the program recognised and designed to run with.

Not quite what the shop, 3D, had told me. I rang them with this piece of information. They offered to take the CD Writer back and take the full price off a better, more expensive, SCSI CD Writer.

I took it back and discussed with them the situation. The advice I got was that if I was going to be serious about it, it was far better to go for the more expensive SCSI CD Writer. Which I knew now to be correct advice.

The problem was, they didn't have any in stock. What they did have was an even more expensive SCSI CD Re-Writer, which allows you to use special CDs that you can re-record over. Which of course has its advantages.

I eventually decided to go for it, because I already had a SCSI card in my computer.

"Ah Sir", said the salesperson. "We only sell them in kit form WITH a SCSI card. But it would be just as well to update your SCSI card at the same time."

This was not quite what I wanted to hear. The price was going up and up. I asked if the CD Re-writer would work on my existing SCSI card and if so, could they split the kit? I felt they owed me a favour.

No, that wasn't possible. That yes it probably would work on my SCSI card, but as I'd already had problems, and as he couldn't split the kit, I would have to go for the new SCSI card with the new CD Re-Writer.

I went to check my bank balance. If I went without food for the next few days I could just about afford it. And that as I'd soon be gaining extra income from selling my CDs while busking, that I could take the extra risk.

I went back to 3D Computers and said I would go ahead and buy the full boxed kit of CD Re-writer and new SCSI card. The assistant went into the back of the shop and returned about 5 minutes later.

"Actually, I'm afraid we are out of the Kits, but fortunately I have found a spare Yamaha SCSI CD Re-Writer, which if you want I will sell you as a separate and you can see if works on your SCSI card. If it doesn’t you can always come back and update your SCSI card."

I enquired that wasn't that exactly that what I'd been suggesting all along and he'd told me was not possible. How come he'd suddenly managed to find a separate CD Re-writer?

He sheepishly admitted that possibly one of his colleagues may have split a kit and sold the SCSI card as a separate. The very thing he had told me that he wasn't able to do for me.

In my several visits to the shop in the future, they always saw me as the customer who made a nuisance of himself and just "Looking For Trouble." Nobody wanted to serve me and did so with extreme caution and reserved politeness. They seemed to forget the reason why I had been angry was the poor advice and products they were constantly giving me. And the saga continued. Even with this new Re-writer, the elusive CD failed to appear.

The shop who sold me it, 3D, gave advice and sold me other products to try and "fix the problem." "No… you need a new hard drive", then it was "Ah yes, it maybe it doesn't work still, but you probably need to upgrade your "SCSI card". That failed to improve things. No CDs would work in the Re-writer, and when I tried to "burn" one of my own, I got the same error message every time.

Next it was "Ah, you are probably don't have an up-to date soundcard." One was quickly but resentfully bought. That too failed to solve the problem. Next it was "Ah... the problem is probably that quite simply the version of Windows 95 you are running has bugs in it that have been fixed in Windows 98. Buy "Windows 98". "

When that didn`t work I took my computer in for them to check it. I'd shelled out far more then I'd ever anticipated, been far more frustrated then I'd expected and still didn't have a CD to show for it!

A few days later they said they had tested the re-writer in another machine, and that it had worked fine.

However, they also decided to test various components of my computer on other computers, to try and locate the problem. In replacing the components they had accidentally blown up the motherboard.

They explained to me it was an old one anyway and could have been the cause of the problem. So which new motherboard would I like to buy? They would waive their expensive labour charges.

This went on, for seven months. Extremely reluctantly and after reporting my dealings with this shop so far with Trading Standards and my solicitor, I told them that I would pay for the new motherboard.

Rather then a long legal battle, with the computer not working so hindering my progress longer. I agreed to pay on the guarantee I got the computer back all set up and ready to go. By now I was weeks behind with my work and business administration. Not to mention the severe debt I was in, which was worsened by replacement of these parts. I still hoped sales of my CDs while busking would recoup the investment of time, money and patience.

It came back, but still any CDs , including audio ones and commercial games one failed to be recognised. Went I tried to burn a CD, still the same error message. I`ll remember it for the rest of my life. "Info.cdp is at a fixed location and cannot be moved. Please delete some of your files or directories and try again." And try again I did. For seven months, without success.

Eventually I took my computer and the Yamaha CD Writer to another computer shop, Quad, in Bath, who kindly said they'd test my system.

The result? They confirmed that the CD writer was faulty. It didn't work on three different machines. This was also confirmed when I went to the Yamaha Web Site. In their literature for their CD Writers it stated "If you put different types of CD into the recorder and it refuses to load them, and shows an ORANGE light, the CD Writer is faulty and should be returned to the retailer. Exactly what was happening and had told the shop. And had been soon after I'd originally purchased it all those months ago. I told them clearly I thought the problem was the replacement SCSI Yamaha Re-Writer was faulty.

Instead this company made me buy lots of other things, that I couldn't really afford to try and fix the problem. When in fact the CD Re-Writer was at fault. Exactly what I had claimed from the start.

With this information I approached 3D. They offered to replace it with a new Philips Re-Writer immediately. This CD Writer definitely worked, and loaded the CDs. But to my disbelief, when I tried to at last "Burn" my CD, "Looking For Trouble", again I found it. Still the same error message!

"Info.cdp is at a fixed location and cannot be moved. Please delete some of your files or directories and try again."

The CD Re-Writer was no longer the problem. It seemed obviously that the program had a fault. This had been denied by the makers of the software Adaptec when I had approached them by both email and phone. I decided to contact anybody who could help and emailed my problem to several technical support centres and newsgroups.

This included again contacting Adaptec Technical Support. However, their European Support Centre was in Belgium. That meant an expensive International call, which I knew might be quite long, and it was. Because it was so, so frustrating. I chewed several of their tech staff heads off. Because once you've found your way around their phone menu, you eventually get put into a queue. Eventually, after quite a wait, where you seethe, you are then asked to give a lot of personal details and go through the ID check to prove that you are a "Paying customer" and not using pirated or bundled software.

After this, you are put through and talking to someone who might have some technical knowledge, but their English is very laboured, with their accent making it difficult for you to understand them. And them you. One poor guy asked me to repeat almost every sentence.

After that palaver all came up with the same reply. "I'm afraid I haven't heard of that error message, in fact I'm afraid I don't know much about the "CD EXTRA" function. It could be your SCSI card. Try deleting the program fully, checking your BIOS and your set-up, closing all the other programs and re-installing the software."

Was this time consuming? Yes. Did it work? No. But I tried several times. Philips Technical Support had no real clue either. I managed to get them onto the problem via the bundled software I got when 3D replaced the faulty Yamaha CD Re-Writer with the Philips CDD 3600 SCSI Re-Writer.

Eventually, I phoned Adaptec's American Technical Support team. This after their reply to my email asking for help was put into action and failed to resolve the problem. And yes, it was very time consuming and very frustrating when it didn`t work.

Eventually, after wading through their phone menus I got put through to an answerphone. And left an angry, desperate, obscene, threatening message. Most unlike the "Happy Graham" who appears at children's shows. I think I even said that I would gladly shoot the program writer.

It got a response, and after hearing the obvious problems, this lady got two of her top tech guys to go through the problem, at their cost, in a three way phone chat. It lasted a long time.

In the meantime Philips Tech Support had supplied new firmware they hoped would fix the problem, but didn`t. They had even tried to "Re-create" the problem in their tech lab, but couldn't even get the error message to occur, and were now SURE, the problem was the SCSI card.

So did Adaptec. When they suggested it in this 3-way-chat I screamed back "How can it not be compatible? It's Adaptec SCSI card, it's an Adaptec program!"

Then the female tech girl asked me to check. That while the shop 3D had given me an Adaptec manual, that on their current record, to maybe check what they'd actually put inside? I was willing to waste the further minutes to check, just to have the pleasure of telling them it was Adaptec and don't they think their products are completely crap?

I got a surprise. It was an Advanced Systems SCSI card. I fell very silent. Instantly angry with the shop, 3D, but also felt the guilt that I had been rather abusive on the phone and got a whole lot of attention, and the problem wasn't their program after all it seemed.

They were quite sweet about it. In fact they said that they were surprised that there was a compatibility problem. They suggested setting the Bios set-up to a specification that they then dictated.

It didn't work. Still the same errors message and still the refusal of the program to burn the CD.

It would though, happily burns exactly the same information as a "Mixed Mode" set-up. I though wanted the "CD Extra" with the audio recorded before the data. So that anyone could pop it onto their CD player without any risk of damaging their speakers by accidentally playing the data track.

On "Mixed Mode", the first track is dedicated to the PC computer DATA, and while most CD players skip it or mute it, some try to play it. If you were turning it up really loud and started the CD, there was a small risk of damaging speakers.

I was told that the error message could be because that the CD Extra mode requires far more storage space on the CD then "Mixed Mode". Therefore as there was a lot of data, that it WOULD burn a Mixed Mode, but changing it to the larger CD EXTRA probably tipped it over the edge.

The problem with this explanation was that when I took off data, but it still didn't work! Still the same error message. "Info.cdp is a fixed location and cannot be moved…etc." Its appearance almost drove me mad. My dustbin regularly found itself kicked across the room. Twice my monitor received a right uppercut and I hurt my knuckles severely.

My computer is sacred to me. I saved for ages to get it. The actual tower has been cursed and spat at, but never hit. The poor monitor had to suffer the blows as well as cursing and spitting, as it was slightly less sacred. As a guitar player and magician, my fingers are very valuable to me and I am normally extremely careful.

But I was that angry, that frustrated. Even though I now had the attention of the top tech guys of two good companies on the problem, there was still no actual solution. What was meant to be the pleasurable experience of making my own special CD after all these years, had turned into a nightmare of unbelievable proportions. Severely testing my great patience and my incredibly small cash-flow.

Still having to go out to kids shows and pretend to be "Happy Graham." Good job I'm a great actor.

Until eventually, one day of utter, utter celebration, the solution came. From the brain of someone I have great respect for. Mine own.

I had phoned Adaptec's Technical Support in Belgium again and asked to spend the next two hours on my problem. To phone and email who ever they could think of for the advice, that would solve this error message problem. Someone, somewhere, would know what is was.

I decided that if these guys were going to put the effort, I would apply my mind one more time to the problem. Which I had done and described in full on many occasions to several technical support teams.

This included a dis-satisfaction I had with the CD EXTRA option. The fact that it forces you to use the ISO9660 standard of filenames, whereas I wanted to use Microsoft "Joliet" standard. Which allowed longer file names. The "Mixed-Mode" however does allow you to use "Joliet".

But I didn't want "Mixed-Mode" and peoples speakers blowing up. I wasn't "Looking For Trouble!"

The "Easy CD Creator" program for CD EXTRA mode just removed any spaces and abbreviated the filenames to that of eight characters. Which made it difficult to understand some of the folders and files when you looked at them on the CD. This was before I decided to have a front menu, or had the skills to create one.

I decided to check once again the file it actually stopped at. Something I had done before, but was simply fishing for clues.

I noticed it had a hyphen in it. It dawned on me that in reading the manual it had stated somewhere that ISO9660 didn't allow certain characters in it. I checked the manual again and sure enough there it was in black and white. Hyphens were one of the characters you weren't allowed to use.

Changing the file-name actually meant part of the CD slideshow didn't work. But I was just interested to see if changing the name allowed the program continue on to a "Test burn".

I changed it, and got the same error message and cursed. Until I noticed it had stopped because it had found another file with a hyphen. I realised I'd have to go through my entire CD and change all the files that contained hyphens. Which there was a lot. It meant I would have to totally redo the slide-shows, because the program had links to the filenames. The slide shows had taken me 2 weeks to perfect. But, I knew I was possibly onto the solution.

I simply cut and pasted all the hyphened files to another folder not used on my CD layout and tried again. Hoping I'd cracked it and tentatively went to try another "test burn." Still the error message. But I noticed the file it had stuck on now had an "&" sign in it. Checking the manual I found that too is not allowed in ISO9660. I wearily took out all the files with an "&" in the filename and tried again.

Imagine my disbelief when…. It worked! The files sped through and the program began to progress onto doing a test burn.

I couldn't believe my eyes. 7 months later, having spent several hundreds of pounds on different components, downloading firmware's and up-dates, having my motherboard blown up, having changed 2 faulty CD Writers I'd done it. Despite sending emails to any tech support or related bulletin board or WEBSITES I could find, spening hours on fruitless International calls, losing my temper regularly, I'd reached my quest myself.

I could now burn that elusive CD EXTRA disk. With the audio first so that it couldn't blow up anybody's speakers. Which while I wouldn't be legally responsible, I'm an honest compassionate guy who didn't want the guilt trip that I'd broken something of somebody else's.

Then it really got to me. All the people I'd contacted and explained the problem, which I'd always done in full and highlighted it only happened on "CD EXTRA" mode. Which I wanted but was disappointed it didn't support the "Joliet" system thus affected the folders and file-names. (Dare I use a hyphen?!)

With that information, surely someone somewhere should have spotted the problem. Suggested I checked the actual file-names. No one did. In fact it angered me that the actual error message told you to simply delete some files and try again. The problem was that it couldn't convert or accept any files that contained hyphens and "&"s. A file-recognition problem error message would have been more apt.

As I fluctuated between ecstasy and anger, the phone rang. Tech Support from Philips. The guy who'd tried to "re-create" my computer and the error message in the tech lab. He'd found the problem.

Smiling to myself, I asked what it was?

He had no doubts. It was my SCSI card. That he had tried it with an Adaptec card and couldn't re-create the fault. While he didn't have the "Advanced Systems" SCSI card to check himself, it was obvious that all I had to do was splash out on the best up-to-date Adaptec SCSI card I could lay my hands on. If possible, to buy their top model to resolve the compatibility problem.

I smiled and told him I'd just two minutes ago solved the problem. And explained it to him in his stunned silence. He had his computer near him and he quickly put in a hyphened file and tested it.

He came back in virtual shock. I was right! In fact he was quite excited to see this mysterious error message finally come up on his screen!

I told him that I too was incredibly relieved to have found the solution after 7 long months. That now I was off to discuss with my solicitor the fact that not only I have endured much stress and debt, the fact was that I has lost 7 months of potential sales of my CD. Which had been the whole point of buying the technology to do it. I don't see why I should have to bare the cost of what was a very simple error. Which all concerned should have easily spotted.

He said that it was his belief, that the program was configured to make remove any characters or spaces when converting from JOLIET to ISO 9660 standard. It obviously had a bug when it came to hyphens.

That, I explained, was Adaptec's problem, not Philips. They supply the software. And no doubt Adaptec have all the legal disclaimers that you shouldn't rely on their program to work and legally excluded from any business loss. However, their Technical Support gave incorrect advice which I relied upon. And that the end of the day, a Judge decides how valid a disclaimer is. In light of it that, that Adaptec might offer some compensation at least, and for solving the problem for future customers.

I couldn't wait to speak to Adaptec, but decided to wait for their two tech guys from Belgium to call back. I decided to let them pay for the call.

In the meantime, a different tech support guy from Philips, who was their main consultant on Easy CD Creator, gave me an unexpected call. Again saying he could confirm the problem as SCSI card incompatibility. More stunned silence as I smiled back the ACTUAL software problem.

He was equally pleased that the quest was over and the solution found. He too offered apologies that no-one had thought of that. While I was angry, it was nice to know I'd out-smarted their best guys and got there first. I still thanked the guy because he really did try to help, even in his own time. He'd even given me a firmware update for the Philips CD Writer that hadn't even been released yet.

The call from Adaptec European Tech Support never came. When three hours had passed, I phoned.

Apparently the guy was just about to ring me with good news. The reason he'd not got back was that he'd been trying to get hold of "Advanced Systems" Tech Support to find out the known compatibility problems with their SCSI card, a Philips and Yamaha CD Re-Writers and Adaptec Easy CD Creator. They had just responded and said that it was very rare when there wasn't compatibility. They were surprised I was having problems and to check the BIOS. But he could confirm it wasn't the Adaptec software, not their problem, and that my best solution was the one they offered earlier.

That despite my incredibly poor financial position, if I really thought I would earn good money from my CDs, to invest in buying their top of the range Adaptec SCSI Card and get rid of the compatibility problems forever.

I could hardly wait. I explained the problem. By now I was used to explaining it to the sound of stunned silence at the other end. But this was extra special after what he had said about it definitely not being a software problem therefore not an Adaptec problem.

His response?

"No, the program converts hyphens and spaces. It's your SCSI Card."

I persuaded him to have a quick test himself. He came back stuttering. "I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "You're right!"

"So you admit that the software is the problem, and that Adaptec are to blame for the 7 month delay of my CD?" I enquired? This time stuttering muffled silence. And finally the official apology began.

I explained I would be sending a Report of the saga to Adaptec, with a completed version of my CD. Which I will. This is the last document I have to complete my CD.

A Report to say thanks for proving an otherwise great, easy to understand program with lots of facilities. Even though their top guys admitted that there was room for improvement on their sound editor and I'd be better off recording the actual wavs with the program that came with the Creative Labs Soundcard. I'd already worked that one out long ago. But their sound editor had important tools and performed some of the functions faster then the Creative Labs program.

But there was a problem, and it lies squarely at Adaptec's door. The program didn't convert hyphens etc. and even their Technical Support didn't know. In America or their European Tech Support in Belgium. And that while Philips Tech Support was also not UK based, it is in Holland, they had a FREEPHONE number. The Philips team were far more customer friendly and their Support Team spoke far better English. I have great pleasure in using Adaptec's own product to highlight publicly their failures.

The American Tech Support for Adaptec though was very good, when I eventually screamed enough to get it. They even responded to my request for a free up-to-date replacement of the "Easy CD Creator Deluxe" software. That I'd chucked across the room in frustration and wasn't able to find afterwards. I turned my room upside down twice trying to find it the following day. To this day its whereabouts are not known, in fact I'd love to find it just to solve that particular mystery!

Eventually I put what I thought at the time where the finishing touches to the CD. I had managed to burn a few "Mixed-Mode" CD's, but now it was the big one. The one I wanted. A CD EXTRA mode version with the AUDIO first, then the computer data. Everyone's speakers would now be safe, I wouldn't be "Looking for Trouble!"

But once again, while I wasn't looking for trouble, once again I found it. With eyes strained with disbelief and ecstasy turned sour again. The quiet cursing turned to shouting obscenities at the screen.

I rang Adaptec, and they confirmed the awful truth.

That after you make a disk image of a CD EXTRA DISK, you can't use the "Disc-At-Once" facility!

That function removes the 2 second gap between the songs on the CD recording. That function, is for "Mixed-Mode" only.

No-one had actually told me that, despite me telling them exactly how I was going about making my CD, including making the final multiple copies by using a disk image, using "Disk-At-Once". For the very reason that I wanted the 2-second gaps between audio tracks removed.

I even tried burning a CD EXTRA disk and then doing a CD COPY of that disk. Here the program stores the image for a number of copies straight from the hard drive. With the possibility I hoped that with this COPY would then allow the "Disk-At-Once" function.

I never got to find out. The CD RE-Writer simply wouldn't scan the CD properly, sometimes not getting hold of the tracks. Even when it did, it couldn't locate the second session, the data files. This despite several attempts, ruined CDs and more lost patience.

But in seethes I've known the score for quite a while. Call a CD "Looking For Trouble" about a Dog, then not to be too surprised if you later find that the CD goes wrong and bites you occasionally.

My brain has since swilled the creative juices and spat out the idea that I can round the problem by making the CD audio WAV files just one long WAV file. This automatically gets rid of the two second gap. The only problem being that I'd still like the CD to show the individual tracks. Maybe they can be forced in Easy CD Create's "Spin Doctor" program? I'm not to sure yet, but my belief is that it can be done. It's just more time finding out how and the actual making up this one long WAV.

But just to add a bit of weirdness to the conclusion, is that when I actually tested the CD EXTRA version I'd just made, the tracks didn't sound too bad with the 2 second gap as I'd expected. It didn't degrade the feel of the CD. As much as I feared. But I still prefer it with out and since made that "Long-one WAV" of the 12 tracks. So if you bought a CD EXTRA version, that's why it only shows 1 track! And also because each track I reckon would make "No. 1" on it's own anyway!

But the quest is on for my next goal. A CD EXTRA mode CD that automatically allows the "Disc-At-Once" function and supports the Joliet" encoding of filenames.

Come on Adaptec. Pull your fingers out.

And 3D computers could make simple amends by supplying gratis the latest Pentium 3 computer, set up with all the facilities I need, for my skills to languish in frustration no longer. In return I offer 3D to receive my public compliments on their swift response and help coupled with a free ad on a future pressing of this CD.

Not that I will give AVONDALE GARAGE, Batheaston, the same chance of recompense and a free ad.

I promised the son "Owner" of this joint partnership with his dad, that he would appear on this CD. For his attitude alone. Though they are not entirely to blame for my current car crisis. What angered me was the attitude. The lack of help, the willingness to make the problem worse, to smile when things went badly wrong.

It started when my Cavalier clutch went. In real terms it did me a favour. The car was on it's last legs anyway. It either needed a through overhaul or a final journey to the crusher. The problem was, I had a kids show to get that afternoon. What was worse, it was a disco, I had quite a bit of equipment to take. Had it been a straight show I'd just have popped my stuff in a bag and gone on the bus. But no, my car had decided to give up on me at a critical time. They always did. But they also all served me well.

There is a saying that "Ask, but only if you are ready to accept "No" as the answer." I hate asking for help. This CD is a testament that I just like to left un-interrupted to get on with it myself. If I ask for help, it's because I desperately need it. I'd rather solve my own problems.

I rang a few friends and family to see if anyone could spare the time to run me to the show and back. I'd pay the petrol and a bit extra. While they didn't have to stay for the show, they might enjoy it.

No-one though could help, for one reason or another. The power of television can be greater then the need of a human being. But, one of them, Spod, bass player of "The Grodlings", came up with a solution. Why not try and find a garage that'll do the work on my car and provide a free courtesy car in the meantime?

I had spoken to Avondale Garage a few weeks earlier, when I realised the car was getting a bit too sick. But financially I couldn't afford to take it in there and then. As I was only doing the absolutely essential journeys by car, using the bus for the rest, I felt it could wait. But then the clutch went.

I'd arranged to meet my girlfriend off the bus, opposite the garage. While I waited for the bus, I decided I would at least ask them. If they said "Yes", and could provide a courtesy car, there and then, I had no problem. If they'd said "NO", it was time to call a taxi, and my client to tell them I would highly likely be very late. Of course being my only income for the fortnight, this disco was financially important for me as well. A taxi to Bristol would also hit me hard in the pocket.

It is a father and son garage. The person I spoke to was the father. He listened to my story and the need for an immediate courtesy car. Could they give my car a good look at and give a figure for the repair work? While I might not get all the work done there, I'd do what I could myself to save money, that I didn't have the skills to repair the clutch, so at the very least I would have that done by them in return.

I also explained a quick "Yes" would allow me not to be late to a birthday party where 50 kids and some anxious parents were waiting for me to appear.

To the guys credit within five minutes I was sitting in an old estate. Absolutely ideal as I had quite a bit of disco gear. While I was still 20 minutes late, I shudder to think when I'd have arrived if I'd had to arrange a taxi. Fortunately I was able to ring ahead on my mobile. For once Cellnet hadn't disconnected it because the direct debit hadn't gone through from Abbey National. And while both Abbey National and Cellnet added charges for the offences, when the whole matter was resolved, it was found that the mix up was largely because of their errors. I was though also at fault myself, but only because I'd received the wrong advice from Abbey National. Eventually the vast majority of charges were refunded. The battle I had would fill another CD.

As would BT. A company who seem to make extremely bad admin errors, but when you get through to their managers, they normally resolve most of the problem, apologise and give compensation. But forget to correct the procedure and the whole problem slowly simmers to the surface again.

The party went great and I went home happy. And was impressed by the service I had received from Avondale Garages. I needed a quick positive decision and got one. He would get his reward and I would have my car back on the road in no time.

The following evening, Sunday, I got a surprise call at my door. The garage owner and his son. They'd come to pick the car up. I thought they meant my Cavalier. He meant the courtesy car. He didn't seem very happy either. I asked if there was a problem?

He explained that he (The son) had come to collect the Cavalier and found it was un-roadworthy and the tax was out. That it was obvious to him that I'd just been trying to get a free car out of him. They had tried towing it back to the garage but one of the back wheels had seized. I told them that I had told them this earlier and that it became free once it had been reversed slightly. I'd experienced it myself.

I explained that he was welcome to take the car back, but that I really needed it the following day to collect my mail from my post office box. Which would contain cheques from sales of videos of my shows. That I needed to do this to find out how much I could add to the £200 my dad had offered to get my car back on the road.

To the son I explained that earlier I had agreed terms with his father, that I had already guaranteed him the clutch replacement work, even though I could probably get a lower quote elsewhere. The reason I wanted them to have the work, was my appreciation of them allowing me to have a courtesy car at such short notice, which in turn was appreciated by all the kids and parents at the party. Which was the absolute truth. Why was he putting his foot in it in such a big way with such false accusations?

He said that what he wanted was the keys to the courtesy car, they would tow the car down to their garage and check it over. But wanted £30 for it, and the "weekends use" of the courtesy car.

This angered me even more. A courtesy car, is, a courtesy car. It's free. It is a customer perk, the cost of which is hidden in your bill somewhere. His father gained the garage business and someone who appreciated their efforts, who placed work with them and at that point would have come back again.

The son showed no courtesy, and wanted to make sure I had no car. And wanted me to pay £30 for the privilege.

I put it to him that it was within his own interests to allow me to keep the car for the following morning. Or at the very least let me borrow it for an hour to check my PO Box in Bristol. So I would know how much I had to spend on repairs.

He refused even this. He wanted the keys, but they would take the car down to the garage and assess it. But they would not start any work until I'd paid £30. While I was incensed, I just wanted them off my doorstep. And I wanted my car back on the road ASAP, fit, well and legal. The only thing that lies on my Police Record are the car offences mentioned on this CD. When you read it later, you will know my opinion on these 15 points in 2 years.

My dad had offered £200 that he thought would solve this car problem. The fact was though. The problem didn't even have had to occur. When my mum went off to Australia for 3 months, her car was put up the drive and left to seize up in Yorkshire. I put it to her, before she left, that as my car was quite poorly, that by borrowing her car, it solved two problems.

Firstly I would get good transport over the very busy Christmas period. Especially when I have several shows booked close to one another. I couldn't afford any transport problems. It also kept her car running and rather then be left at a deserted house in Bridlington, it would be with me, in a quiet cul-de-sac in Batheaston.

Despite my gentle pleas, the answer of "No" later came back.

Mainly because my Dad had put his foot down. He remembered too much, as did she, of what happened when I borrowed her Golf.

I asked what exactly she remembered. She reminded me that I wrecked the engine by driving it without oil in it. But that it was best forgotten, it was in the past.

I sighed, as I sigh many times when I'm misrepresented and misjudged. I pointed out that the CD I was working on was called "Looking For Trouble", and that it was an explanation that despite my good intentions, fine brain and performing talents, that the reason I haven't succeeded is because I always seem to end up the innocent victim.

Normally when people could easily have said "Yes", sometimes gaining themselves, they said "No." That when I said that I accepted their "No", but could they explain to how they got to that conclusion, there is never a good reason except selfishness and power. Logic and truth go out the window.

The Golf incident is a chestnut for my family. It's one that's regularly brought out to embarrass me in front of friends and relatives. Of the problems I cause myself and shouldn't be trusted.

Once again I reminded my mother of the actual facts. As I did she slowly remembered that I had explained all this to her before, so why was I bothering again? I was bothering because now my father had sat in judgement, refused to say "Yes" and was relying on totally incorrect information.

What had happened to my mums precious Golf, was this.

I had been lent the car while my mum had gone to stay with my dad in Saudi for a couple of years. They really didn't want to lend me the car but had lent it previously to both my sisters so felt a bit obliged. I was under strict instructions to treat it like gold dust and NEVER to smoke even a single cigarette in it. Something I kept to, as my father is a fervent anti-smoker. The sort who shouts out at anyone lighting up in the wrong place. Which is normally within 3 miles of him.

It came the time for the car's MOT and my dad told me to take it in for a service. I offered to do the service myself. My years of driving cheap bangers I knew how to do most of the basic car repairs. I could save him some money and it would be a way of showing my appreciation.

No, he wanted an a qualified expert changing the oil. But he wanted a couple of quotes. I dutifully got some and he chose a garage over the phone from Saudi. It was the cheapest place of course.

I took it to this garage in Bristol, I think Bedminster. I decided to wait and watch the MOT test so at least I would get an idea of the repair costs and report to my dad, who wanted to give the go-ahead. I also wanted the car back on the road ASAP as I had shows to get to. I watched in amazement as the mechanic slammed the car into the rolling road for the brake test and heard a loud crack.

I waited for the test to finish and he presented me with the repair list. It was going to be a fair amount.

I rang my dad and he thought it was a bit expensive, but if it helped me out, he'd go for it.

While having the car was certainly a help, the damage on the car was just the normal wear and tear. I'd only had it for a couple of months. It was little jobs like the exhaust blowing, the rubbers needing replacement, brake pads, a new wiper. But my dad seemed to be blaming me for the expense.

I gave them the go-ahead and was informed the work couldn't be done for a few days. While this frustrated me, I left it with them. I went back, paid the money, got the MOT and drove out happy.

I'd got it back just in time. I had a show the following day in London.

But as I turned the first corner the most horrible clanking noise came from the wheels. I drove straight back to the garage. A quick inspection showed that the front suspension had been broken. He said he'd get me a quote and I told him not to bother. I knew how it'd been broken. His mechanic did it when he slammed it onto the rolling road. I 'd watched him do it and even heard a crack.

The manager called the MOT tester over and he denied it completely. And told me what he thought of me. That I was trying to get free work done and tarnish his reputation. That I was lucky he didn't take my teeth out there and then. He pointed out that he'd checked the suspension and passed it. I must have done it driving out of the garage.

I asked him in what sequence he had checked the car? He didn't quite know what I was getting at and explained the procedure he'd used in front of the manager. He found out what I was getting at when I pointed out that to his own admittance, that he had checked the suspension before ramming the car onto the rolling road to check the brakes. Which is why he had passed it.

The manager explained to me that actually he wasn't really the manager, but the owner was due over in the afternoon. I could see him if I wished. The MOT tester added "If you don't value your health."

To cut a long story short I wandered into the first solicitor I could find . I then went home and told the problem the AA. Both explained it really came down to their word against mine, and they didn't fancy my chances, no matter what the actual truth was.

I returned to see the owner, who eventually turned up and stated virtually the same and smiled at me.

I smiled back and said that if he wanted Trading Standards involved, getting the Press involved, me sticking leaflets about it through local households and doors, then to keep smiling. Otherwise I offered £20 and no more to the cost of the replacement suspension. He took up my offer.

It was delayed for a week because they decided to try and find a second hand suspension. I insisted it should be a new part, and that to my knowledge that meant both sides being done at the same time. He went ape with me. How dare I insist? I pointed out that I wasn't the one that had broken it through negligent driving during an MOT test on his premises by his qualified mechanic.

He was bitter about it, but knew I would be a nuisance. I may not have money but I know how to be a nuisance. It was only when I threatened to come down with the police that they eventually got on and fixed the car. There was always "An emergency that had just come in." Reminded me very much of Bristol Royal Infirmary's Casualty Dept, which I hope got as big an overhaul as the hospital car park.

I got the car back and drove it home. The following day I took it for a quick test drive, and was happy that all seemed to be fine. I hadn't "Looked For Trouble", but once again I'd found it. But not without my mother and father themselves accusing me of having broken the suspension. "Maybe I'd clipped a corner or something?" No, I'd seen what happened with my own eyes. It was if they wanted to side with the garage and pay more money!

The day after that I had a weekend of shows lined up in London. I'd had to cancel the previous one because the car hadn't been fixed and was again very short of money. I was relieved that I had the car back and running. But 30 miles down the M4, my singing in the car turned to shouting, as the engine first started spluttering, then just died, locking the front wheels at around 60mph. It was with some skill that I managed to keep control and inch it to the hard shoulder.

I made the long walk to the AA box and within 2 hours they got there. And sorted out the free replacement car for 3 days as I had their Relay plus option. But was reminded that having used it three times that year already and that next time I would have to be charged. He also let me use his mobile to apologise to my clients that I would have to miss their shows. And I would have to also miss their money. Which had been absolutely essential to my own cash flow, already worsened by the previous cancellation, due to the car.

They took the car off to a nearby garage and he ran back to Bristol to collect the free hire car. It was too late to go to London. While I had a free courtesy car, I didn't need it for anything important now. The shows in London were already lost. Once again I was the innocent victim. My customers for one weren't very happy with me having to cancel at such short notice. I was also worried about what had happened to my mum's precious car.

I soon found out. The following day the garage that'd received my car told me that the engine had completely seized. Because there was no oil in the engine.

The service the garage had done along with the MOT had included an oil change in the Pre-Service. They'd obviously got as far as the draining the oil part, but the qualified expert had forgotten the filling up part it seemed. My dad would have been better taking up my offer. Once again.

Especially with what happened next. The garage said that they remembered filling it up, that it must have happened in the two days I'd had it. In fact it had been parked outside my house and there was no oil slick there.

My calls to the AA, my solicitor and the garage that had the Golf all led to the same advice. While I was probably right, it was virtually impossible to prove in court. I spoke to the owner and said that surely, even if it was just for customer goodwill, they should put right the damage free of charge. He refused. They'd been charitable once and now I was just pushing my luck and slammed the phone down on me.

My father hit the roof and my mum was none too happy either. It was my fault. I hadn't checked the oil before going on a long journey. I asked them in vain if they would have checked the oil two days after a £300 service? The reply that "Of course we bloody would have! You ALWAYS should before doing a journey that length."

My opinion was, and still is, they wouldn't have. In fact I know they don't. They just had fodder to blame me again.

It was me who resolved the problem. I sold a few things that I really needed to keep, to raise £60 after tracking down a cheap second hand engine after trying at several scrap yards. Another garage fitted it for £100.

Both the scrap yard and the garage who fitted it took a bit of pity of my story and had reduced their prices. But I still had to find £160, which sank me further into debt. Having sold my guitar, amp, four track and computer in the process, it left my business in tatters and me in tears. I promised one day I would replace them with something better. It was years before I did so.

Two months later my dad decided, to help me out and said that I could sell the GOLF, to help me with my financial problems. Anything I got over £300 I could keep to replace it with a cheaper vehicle and pay off some of my overdue rent. He couldn't chat for long, he was just preparing to take my mum for their third holiday in Sri Lanka in as many years. The sale left me with £70.

Fortunately I was lucky to find a wreck of a car that still had some MOT on it. I had just returned home from getting this £70 car when the phone went. Could I get down to BRI Casualty immediately. My (Then) girlfriend had just been admitted, following a serious road accident. That £70 car 2 days later was being released from the car pound for a fee of £90, paid by my sister in Bristol and never refunded.

But that story you should have read earlier.

This £70 car was a saloon and it kept overheating. I was hoping to drive over 300 miles over the weekend for my shows and discos I had that weekend in London. I really needed an estate for my disco gear. The following week one came up for £120. I decided to get it, and sell the saloon to help pay for it. Thinking I may even get more then the £70 I paid for it, because they guy reduced by £40 as he knew I was desperate and was glad to get rid of it. This estate was advertised as 13 months MOT, no tax.

I rang the ad, explained my current car was so bad I didn't trust it to get me to Old Sodbury, was there any chance of him bringing it here? If it was as good as it said in the advert I would buy it and run him back in it.

He wasn't keen at first but I mentioned the discos and the kids shows, that I was battling against adversity for the pleasure of others… did he have kids? Etc etc until he gave in.

It looked a bit shoddy but when it arrived I knew it must be at least capable of a short journey. I gave it a test run and decided it was worth it. Then came the catch. The 13 month MOT. What did that mean?

He explained that the car had 1 months MOT left when originally advertised, but in fact there was now just four days left, the ad had been in the paper for the last 3 weeks. The car had been pre-tested and he had done all the required work. It should sail through. If there were any problems, he would fix them. Second hand cars was one of his side-lines, he was a welder by trade with his own premises. In fact he proudly announced that if it hadn't been for his welding skill, the car might have been on a dump. Which would have been a great shame because it had such a good engine.

He looked a bit rough and ready, but his sales patter was convincing. Especially when he then put it in writing as part of the deal.

This time I wouldn't be caught out. This is why I went to business school. Always get a written contract. And make sure it's a legal one that says exactly your terms. This contract said he would put right any repairs needed if the car failed the MOT. In the meantime I had a car with just enough MOT to get to me to London and back for the weekend.

The next problem was, no tax disk. But here I had been lucky. I had been waiting for over a week for the new Insurance Certificate to arrive for the new saloon so that I could buy a backdated tax disk.

The car's lack of tax had apparently been part of the reason the warden claimed she had it towed away. Not believing the note that I had left where the tax disk sits, stating "CAR NOT TAXED. NEW OWNER AWAITING INSURANCE DOCUMENTS TO GET TAX DISK. OWNER CAN BE CONTACTED AT BRI INTENSIVE CARE WAITING ROOM ACROSS THE ROAD IF CLARIFICATION NEEDED. OR PHONE XXXXXXXX" and gave my then number.

This as well as a larger notice apologising for having parked illegally (Along with 20 or so other cars and vans on a single yellow Lane, across the road from Bristol Royal Infirmary.) This notice giving my name, telephone number and stating I could be found in the hospital across the road in the Intensive Care Waiting Room." I do try to communicate. Don't I? What would you have done if you'd read them?

The magistrates immediately dismissed the lack of a tax disk at the later hearing for the parking ticket, for which they gave me a 6 month discharge and removed the parking fine. But I promised the magistrates I would be get a backdated tax disc as soon as the insurance documents had arrived.

The problem was that I had now changed my vehicle four times in a year and the Insurance firm was having problems keeping up, especially because they were different engine sizes, which were all different rates. But each time there was also an admin fee.

Then the Insurance Company wanted to put me down as I was working as a Childrens Entertainer, which automatically put me in the highest insurance bracket. This despite the fact I was now the proud owner of a P45, but didn't want to let the kids down who had already booked me in London, and as yet I hadn't seen any sign of any benefits. In fact I didn't see any for several months.

Without the income from these shows I would have had absolutely nothing. The Insurance Company also kept adding a £15 fee for each change of vehicle. To someone who had nothing, the world's problems on his head, dispirited and depressed over the break-up of his engagement and selling his most treasured possessions just to eat and try and pay the rent until the benefits came.

They then later cancelled it without notifying me when I refused to pay for a bill that I had already shown them proof that I had paid it earlier. They had made an admin error, which they finally admitted.

In the same time I was receiving none of the benefits that I was legally entitled to. I lived off my credit card until I was asked to send it back. But all I got were more letters from Bedminster DSS and the Housing Benefits asking for further clarification on things. I'd even sat in their office and told them to tell me exactly what was needed and I would be back within the hour with it.

They told me they didn't quite work like that.

I supplied everything they needed and photocopied the replies I was sending. I phoned but no-one seemed to know where my claims were? At one point they admitted it had all gone missing and asked if I could re-supply the original information, and the things I'd clarified. Then she would personally make sure it was rushed through. I did the lot and it took me ages. Instead another letter came back asking for more information.

The landlady was also beginning to send letters to me, stating that if it weren't resolved very shortly, it would give her no option but to end my tenancy. However my fellow housemate Helen was already plotting to get me out and her boyfriend in. One evening I threw a ball for my dog Trouble and she knocked over Helens bag, spilling the contents, trying to hide after getting the ball, as she always did.

The absolute honest truth. But I believe God does things like this. I was anxious to put them back in the right place and didn't know if I should explain to Helen what had happened. She had only recently moved in and it was easy to mis-interpret that I had been rooting through her bag.

Fortunately only a few things had come out and it was a "Hold-All" type, so I felt I should just pop the things back in and not mention anything. If anything was mentioned I would tell her and hoped she would believe me. That was the plan.

The plan kinda went out of the window when I discovered part of the belongings was a letter from my landlady Maxine that had gone missing. I had been looking for days for it as it reconfirmed my tenancy and rent for the re-confirmation they had requested. What the hell was Helen doing with it?

I opened it to make sure it was what I thought and I was wrong. It was a letter from Maxine to Helen, but could spot my name in several places.

I know it is fundamentally wrong to read other peoples mail, but sometimes it happens by sheer accident. That includes email. I was once sorting out a problem with my dad's email and sent off a test email from my hotmail site to his email, to test it still worked after the alterations I had done to the settings. I waited for a couple of minutes then "Searched for new EMAIL" and in came one message that opened itself up as the program was up and running.

Except it wasn't my email. It was a reply to one of his. And one he'd rather his son hadn't seen. But I know more about him now then I could ever have believed, despite the briefness of the message. It also answered many questions I have had about myself and his character and traits, in it's own way. It happened while I was trying to help my dad out, to make things between us. Gods does things like that.

But I've kept it a secret from him of my discovery and simply observed.

The letter from my landlady to Helen was obviously a reply to a letter that Helen had sent. And it was obvious from the first page of the reply, some of the things she had written about. I thought to be fair to myself I better read it fully and find out what the problem was. Maybe I could put it right.

Instead I read the battle plan of how they were going to get me out of the house so Helens boyfriend could move in. Helen would get a list of things together of things Maxine could pick up on, that I was untidy and didn't do enough housework etc. Maxine would then ring to say her relationship had unexpectedly split up and needed her room back. She'd come back in a flood of tears to find the place a bit messy, to which Helen could help with and Helen could add to that a few travesties of how difficult I was to live with. That I would have to leave ASAP for not keeping the house tidy and Maxine's sudden relationship crisis forcing her to return home at once.

It was two o'clock in the morning. I didn't know what the hell to do with this information. So I decided to take it to the Police. I would do this legally. There was a conspiracy, which could actually tarnish my reputation. I was completely amazed and disgusted.

Maxine had let me choose the tenants for the house, it had only been on my say that Helen was invited in. She was fresh over from Ireland and laughed when I asked if her boyfriend Liam was ever going to come over to stay? Not that I minded, but to at least give me some pre-warning if he wanted to. She said it would be highly unlikely he would bother coming over.

Now she was trying to get me out and her lover in. He was coming over, not just a visit, but to sleep in the same bed I'd been using. But the plan being of course that I would be in another one far away somewhere. Or the gutter or "Nightshelter" as my benefits hadn't been paid yet. What did they care?

The Policeman at the Station didn't know quite what to do when I arrived. He read it and understood the problem. He said it would be best to get a photocopy of it, replace the original, don't mention it, then take the copy to a solicitor and get proper legal advice.

He then told me that unfortunately it wouldn't be right for him to photocopy it for me. Even though he believed the story of how it came into my possession, a court may cast the obvious doubts, and his neck would be on the chopping block if it were found he had photocopied it for me.

I asked him if he knew anywhere where I could get this photocopied at 3am in the morning? He replied no, but try the taxi companies. I did, and no dice. And what dodgy places some of them were. It was easier to score any illegal drug you wanted then a taxi or a photocopy of an important document.

I kept going with the psychology that if you really want something bad enough, you'll find a way to get it. At 4:40am, with deep gratitude to the staff of the night desk at the Hilton Hotel, I got for free what guests paid £1.50 a sheet for. He just realised the situation, my desperation and just wanted to help. I even let him read the letter just to show how I was being shat on from a huge height. My parents later stayed there during my younger sisters wedding, as did some of her friends, so I guess you got your money in the end. I didn't forget when you helped me. It cost you probably 4p.

What of course I didn't rely on was that the solicitor, who took on my case, forgot to make it known to me that my landlady was someone he knew. I found this after trying to find out why he was never interested in my case and kept advising me "…just to drop it, put it behind me and get on with my life. Yeah it was tough justice, but I'm a man aren't I?"

I managed to find out, if my information was correct, that he knew her fairly well. Not that this would have stopped him in anyway of helping me pursue my case. Indeed one of our sessions was cut short because he had another appointment with some urgent clients. This happened to be some squatters that had been evicted off their illegal campsite. The Legal Aid I had tried to claim but was refused, he was helping them fill it in.

I hung around for a few minutes just to see if I could unsettle him, but he didn't seem the slightest bit bothered when I eventually stormed out. I also tend to hang around the wardens after they book my car. I follow them from about ten paces behind checking their work. Strangely none of them have booked another vehicle while I was behind them, yet I spotted some on Yellow Lines and their tax out. It's amazing how quickly the eyesight can go sometimes. But more on my Traffic Warden friends later.

Maxine had already written back saying she would certainly contest the case and even made a counter claim saying things hadn't been left tidy and I'd taken various listed items with me. All a complete pack of lies Maxine, and you know it. You were full of it.

She of course made out that I must have stolen Helen's letter. But her testimony mentioned that while Helen had gone to answer the telephone in my room, she'd noticed the photocopy of her in my bottom drawer. Apparently they had known for some time, that I knew of their plan.

I wrote back and mentioned a couple of simple facts. The telephone in my room, which was her old room, as she knows, doesn't ring. Due to wiring fault at the socket. Something she had informed me about. That yes the photocopy had been hidden in my bottom drawer, under the newspaper linings with a pile of clothes on top. I'd found their letter by complete accident. Their finding of my photocopy of it was I think less of an accident.

This was all due to go to court and I was in no doubt I would get some compensation to relieve me of some of my financial burdens. And possibly extract an apology. But more so to get down to the important stuff. The truth. Just who was telling it. The girl who worked for a Bank and the other one for an major Insurance Company, or the unemployed, in debt Childrens Entertainer. Fortunately despite the difference in our career positions, I think the truth would have still been too compelling. However, just then my girlfriend accidentally pulled out in front of a lorry.

In-between seeing her in Intensive Care, I was chasing towed away cars, tracking dodgy 2^nd hand car dealers, trying to get my tow away fee from the council, trying to get the council to pay me my backdated claim now of months and the new claim I'd started in Kingswood, fighting a law case with previous landlady and desperately trying to find housemates for my new house.

Not to mention also carrying on being Happy Graham for families and kids not just in London, but was then beginning to take off also in Bristol. Happy kids, parents and friends who didn't have a clue where I'd just come from or what I was going through and back to. I was just a zany happy person of course, who was always like that! I also got some nice postcards from my parents on an extra vacation in Cyprus. They were having a great time and hoped I was too. Mum always wrote them, dad occasionally signed his name.

Back to the Insurance story, the documents arrived the day after I had bought the Estate. I cursed my luck once again, I decided though I would still go and buy the tax disc for the Saloon. This was the period that the Traffic Wardens in Bristol were having their first blitz on my cars to add to my troubles.

The Estates radiator blew up just I was exiting Bristol for London to do my disco.

I quickly transferred everything to the saloon, which got me to London only slightly behind schedule. But then the Police pulled me over for no reason whatsoever. But decided to check the car. And found the tax disc was for a different car. At last minute I noticed the Insurance had been "For Any vehicle" and bought it for the Estate. I had forgotten to transfer it to the estate and left it on the saloon seat.

With the Estate blowing up, in transferring everything to the saloon, my dog "Trouble" was travelling with me and the only place for her was the front seat. She was a good travelling dog usually though.

In the rush I had picked the tax disc off the seat and put it on the dashboard. It wasn't even stuck to the window. But they smelled a rat and booked me for displaying an invalid tax disc. This delay caused me to miss my first show. I hoped though on checking the facts, the police would decide not to prosecute. And for about 9 months I heard nothing from them. But please read on!

When it came to the Estates MOT, it failed miserably and the ex-owner despite the contract he'd signed told me to piss off, it was my hard luck.

I rang the police and they told me it was a civil matter. Even though he was a garage. Even though he had advertised the car as with 13 months MOT. Eventually after a call from Citizens Advice he agreed that for £20 he would do the necessary work.

Eventually I agreed and the car failed the re-test on the welding again. The tester pointed out to me all the areas where the welding had been bodged or done improperly. Eventually I just dumped the car back at his garage and spent £35 on a Small Claims Court hearing. He didn't fight it and was ordered to pay the cost back, plus some damages for the problems he'd caused me. He was allowed to pay in instalments of £2 due to his supposed bad financial position. The money still didn't come in.

So, MAURICE MOTORS of OLD SODBURY, thanks for nothing. Hang your head in shame.

I went back to Citizens Advice and they gave me the real low down. All that would happen was that he would have a County Court Judgement put against him, but he could still appeal against the original trial verdict, as he didn't show up. I could then take further proceedings against him

Initially he had written back to them and denied everything, then ignored the hearing. I thus won and he was issued with a notice to pay me. Which he also ignored. By now I was careless and penniless, without even a guitar to sing my blues away, my girlfriend in hospital recovering from her injuries. But I still had to go out and be "Happy Graham." To at least fight against the downward spiral I was going in.

Somehow my parents postcards from Sri Lanka failed to cheer me up. They were having a wonderful time. Even joking "If you haven't got your car back on the road try a camel or an elephant. We have!"

Yes, I remembered the Golf all right. Did my mother now remember the whole actual story?

Well, some of it, but she wished I would stop blaming my dad for MY problems.

After my mum had gone to Australia, I knew my dad was the real problem regarding borrowing my mums car. We had fallen out quite badly at the New Year, where an argument over the rules of a game caused contention and then eventually we came to blows for the first time. My mother had just unwittingly vindicated my argument and he didn't like being proved wrong. Especially if it proved me right. I later checked with the games manufacturer just to make sure I was, and I was.

My dad though came across the room threatening to hit me. This time I wasn't going to let him have the opportunity, despite his six feet four and half inches frame. And while the whole year the family recounted of what I had done, they all seemed to forget the actual facts. I was of course banned from the house after that. But I refused to apologise, but didn't cut off diplomatic ties myself. In fact going to great efforts to try and get a better relationship back with my dad, which were initially just ignored.

When my latest cars clutch went I rang and asked him again to borrow my mum's car.

I sent an email that it really was the best solution all round. It didn't cost anything, my girlfriend had offered to lend me the money to put a tax disk on it. I'd be insured to drive it Third Party already or I would pay then to be on their more comprehensive insurance. That gave me time to get my car fixed and give me good transport over the busy Christmas period where I would earn the money to fix the car. In turn my mum's car would have the benefit of being used 3-4 times a week during the cold winter period.

Despite my pleadings, he said he would prefer me to get something that would keep me going for a couple of years and he'd foot the bill. When I asked how much, knowing he has his own financial problems, he said £150.

I put to him that "Something that'll keep me going for a couple of years" and "£150" is a solution only he could possibly come up with. That my solution cost him nothing but gained him a tax disk and gave me time to fix my own car. Instead he offered me £200, I was not having my mums car.

You can probably guess the rest.

I wasn't "Looking For Trouble", in fact I was once again trying to place myself in a situation where it was least likely to happen. But no-one gave me the help I actually was looking for. Once again I got the help they thought they could give. And the problems began

But listen to this nightmare… all of which could have been avoided if my dad had got his facts right about the Golf and said "Yes" instead of "No", it would have saved him £200. And the following would never have happened.

I took the £200 and a friend said he had a car, a Triumph Acclaim for £50 with no tax. He'd lent it to another friend who had stopped using it. It needed a bit of welding, including the passenger wiper which had wrenched from it's mounting. Besides that it was fine. He didn't know if his friend had bothered getting an MOT, but even if he had there wouldn't be much on it. That as they had fallen out he wasn't going to go round looking for it. I could borrow it while I decided whether to buy it or have my Cavalier fixed.

In the meantime my landlord wanted some payment for the arrears that had built up since my busking ban, so I used £120 of it as a goodwill payment.

After AVONDALE GARAGE taking the courtesy car away, they had come to pick up my Cavalier as arranged. The following day one of my housemates told me that it had been left around the corner on the road. Untaxed, with no MOT and a flat back tyre.

I rang Avondale who said that they had tried to tow it their garage at the bottom of my road, but the back wheel had locked up. Something I had told them about. They came out to the car to point out various defaults on the car. Defaults I already knew about, which is why I had asked them to have a good look at it and give a price for repairs. I could spot the obvious things. I only act a clown role.

In pointing out the flat tyre, they showed me what a bad condition the tyre was in. It had gone down right through to the metal wiring support. It was far worse then I had last checked and they pointed out what a risk I'd been to myself and others with a tyre in that state. They quoted another £30 alone to replace the tyre. All the rest were in good condition having all been replaced at the same time by the previous owner. I had all the service history for the car and old MOTs.

The truth came later from a neighbour. They had watched them try and tow it away. I had expected them to take it away on a pick up. Instead they had tried dragging it along the road with the wheel locked, until the tyre had burst. Then pushed it to the side of the road and left it.

I was disgusted that they hadn't informed me, especially while leaving my car unlawfully on the road. At a time when the police seemed to be very much waiting for me to do the slightest things wrong and with 9 points on my licence. It seemed the Police wanted to "Prove" I was a bad guy.

AVONDALE GARAGE (The son) said he wouldn't move it until I paid them £30 to do so. £15 for him to move and inspect it, £15 for the use of the courtesy car. I again pointed out that the initial conversation I'd had with his father was that the courtesy car was free. That I'd really appreciated their help at the time but now my faith and trust in them was slipping sharply.

I said I would pay for the courtesy car, but only if they would allow me one more trip, just for an hour, to get the cheques from my PO Box as I'd mentioned earlier. That this would help me know how much I had to spend at their garage and what work I had to do myself. The father wanted to let me, the son didn't and was determined I wasn't going to have it. Pointing out to his father that I had no money, I was just freeloading off them.

At this point I gave this chap an indication of what I thought about his attitude. How dare he talk to a customer like that. If he hadn't noticed I had been polite and honest throughout, and the problem of my car had only worsened by their involvement. It was them who where reneging on the verbal contract that was originally made. Now they were asking me to pay for the privilege.

It was pride that made me do it. I hitch-hiked to Bristol, picked up the cheques, put them into the Building Society and drew the out my last £30 of the £200 my dad had given to me to replace my car. The repairs were yet to be done or paid for. I reconciled this with the fact that I had a couple of shows lined up for the weekend.

My future finances were very bleak and the unpaid bills were beginning their red-letter stage. All because of the busking ban affecting my income. I did have my Crown Court appeal coming up, and again reconciled that the compensation I would receive would solve my problems. Even if I didn't get it straight away, I'm sure a friend or family member might lend me something knowing it was coming.

I paid the £30 and the following afternoon they took the car away. I rang a few days later and they asked me what I wanted to do with it. I asked what the damage was and their quote? They told me they hadn't had time to look at it, but it was his opinion that it would be un-economical to fix. The clutch would cost me £130 for starters.

I pointed out I knew that already. I wouldn't get far without a clutch, which is work I'd already placed with them. What other work was required? They told me they were busy and couldn't look at it until the end of the week.

I decided to go to my weekend shows by bus. I got up early on the Saturday morning to ring the local company BADGERLINE (Bath office). I asked if there was a bus from Bath to Bristol, stopping at Longwell Green? I was pleased to hear there was. I asked what road it stopped on, my A-Z at hand ready to see if I would still need a taxi to get to my show from the bus stop.

"It stops at The Crown" he told me. Which street was that I enquired?

"Dunno." was the answer. I asked him to check with his colleges and he told me there was only a girl with him and she didn't know either. I asked him if there was anyway way he could find out? It was quite important to me and this was after all their information line?

So he hung up on me.

I phoned back and he shouted at me that all he knew was that it stopped at "The Crown", that maybe I should find the pub in the Yellow Pages ring and find out. And hung up on me again.

Angrily I flicked through the pubs in Yellow Pages. There was no "Crown Pub" in Longwell Green. I tried Thompsons and even Directory Enquires. No Crown Pub in Longwell Green.

It's times like this if you wonder if this sort of thing happens to anyone else.

I decided to ring the BADGERLINE office in Bristol. I got an answerphone saying all their operators were busy.

I then tried to ring National Express in Bristol, just in case they had any clue. They didn't but had seen the Badgerline Rep chatting with a friend outside the office. If I rang Badgerline back in 10 minutes he would try and find her.

I rang back in 10 minutes and she was there. I explained the problem to her. Where was the Crown Pub in Longwell Green and did she know of any other nearby stops on the route?

She was unable to answer either question. She had no idea which route the bus actually took and it wasn't unusual for them to use local landmarks on their timetables to indicate where the bus stop was located.

They didn't keep a list of street names though for these landmarks for enquiries such as mine, who had no idea was the landmark was, but had a street map. She said she would ask around, could I call back in half an hour? By now time was slipping past and knew the journey could well take an hour.

Half an hour later I rang back. She wasn't absolutely sure, but someone had told her that "The Crown" was now "The Harvesters" restaurant. Was that any use to me?

Yes it was, I knew it well. It was opposite the very hall I needed to be at. If they'd said "The Harvester" originally I would have known and been able to set off an hour ago.

Unfortunately, the bus only went every half an hour, and the next one was in fifteen minutes. The problem was I had to get by bus from Batheaston to Bath by bus (Again Badgerline) first. Fortunately I had all my stuff ready in bags and shot straight out the door.

The bus stop was half a mile or more down the road. Laden down with three heavy bags and my guitar, my outfit on under my normal clothes I ran as fast as I was able. The BADGERLINE bus to Bath was every 15 minutes. If I was lucky I'd just make it the next scheduled one. Fortunately they were normally about three minutes late as well.

Not this one. It was two minutes early. I saw it drive up to the bus stop and ran frantically waving my arms as much as I could for someone to tell the driver to wait. Instead everyone thought this looked quite funny and stopped to watch. Except for me who saw the bus disappear off down the road.

I arrived shattered, disappointed and totally out of breath at the bus stop. This was across the road from Avondale Garage. Where the son stood grinning, chatting to someone and pointing in my direction. I rued that but for him, I would have the courtesy car and wouldn't be in this position. But one day people would read about what he put me through and decide whether to use his services themselves.

Fortunately a taxi came past and I flagged him down. I explained I had no money except £1 for my bus fare, explained I was trying to get to a kids show in Bristol and that my girlfriend was meeting me at Bath Bus Station. She would be able to pay him. At the very worse I had my Autobank card with me.

Fortunately I had my mobile with me. Unfortunately it CELLNET and a really bad reception area. I was unable to pick up a signal to ring the lady who was booking me. My girlfriend wasn't at the station. The taxi driver had worked a miracle to get me there as quick as he did. He told me there was a rugby match on and the town centre was gridlocked. If I'd managed to get the bus I would have surely missed the connection anyway. He knew the back-roads though.

I waited an anxious 7 minutes for my girlfriend to show. While I had my Autobank cards I remembered that I'd just drawn my last £30 to pay the garage. She was unhappy about paying the £10 taxi fee but I pleaded with her I could pay her back that same day after the show. If we ever got there.

My friend's car was in Bristol. He said it appeared in good shape except a wiper, but to take some jump leads, as the battery was flat. I had decided I would pick it up after my shows to get us back to Bath.

The Bristol BADGERLINE bus though failed to show up. When the driver pulled up she apologised they were late in, but the centre was badly blocked up. The driver then announced she needed a quick ten-minute break to freshen up before setting off. I was not the only one in the queue to chunter away to themselves.

On the bus I tried again to ring the client. I had taken her mobile number in case of emergencies and given her mine in case they were worried and wanted to contact me. I believe customer service is a very important part of running a business. It's what helps people come back and use your service again.

I couldn't get a signal though. I kept tying and trying. Other people on the bus though were soon chatting away to friends and families on theirs. I wondered what the problems was, and have only recently found out. In running to catch the bus the ariel had bent after getting trapped in my jacket under the bags. Causing it to snap inside. You couldn't tell from the outside, but is why I could get a signal if I pressed the top of the ariel firmly. Ever tried doing that and holding it next to your ear and trying to have a conversation?

Unable to contact them or them me, I arrived 20 minutes late. That itself was a minor miracle.. Fortunately I'd found that a bus did run from the bus stop at "The Harvesters, the pub formally known as The Crown" (Except by BADGERLINE BUS COMPANY) to the area my next show was in.

Unfortunately it only ran once an hour at quarter to the hour. My first show was scheduled to end on the hour and I felt obliged to offer them an extra twenty minutes because of my lateness. Which they were happy to go along with. But meant I'd be too late for my next show if I'd waited for the bus.

With a car I would have made it. In fact I wouldn't have even been in this position. If my dad had allowed me to borrow my mum's car, none of this would have happened. Nor if I had been given a courtesy car as originally arranged with Avondale, while they repaired my car. If I hadn't paid them my last £30 for their dis-service I would at least have been able to afford a taxi.

Fortunately, there are more in the people in the world with a similar attitude to myself. That life is not all about money. The show went well and at the end I decided I would make a quick announcement to the parents. That if anyone was going anywhere near Shirehampton (Which was highly unlikely as it was the other side of Bristol), that there were some children eager to see my show as much as their kids had been, with parents as anxious as they had been. They were already aware of my car problem after I explained my lateness amongst my apologies on my arrival.

No-one was, but the father of one of the two girls whom party I'd just done a show for offered to take me there anyway. Like me he didn't want the kids let down. He realised how his own would have felt. It was also obvious that despite the hell I was in, that I was determined to do the best I could.

We arrived 10 minutes late, the traffic was particularly awful. But again the show went great. At last I had an opportunity to show what I am capable of given the chance. It was also a great channel for all the anger that had been brewing. Laughter is a great anti-dote, which is why I love performing comedy.

I mentioned to the parents at the end that if it hadn't been for the kindness of the parent from my last show, I would have had serious problems getting there at all, but bad luck and cars was the story of my week. They too were disgusted that people could treat people like that. All felt I shouldn't have paid Avondale Garage.

They asked me how I'd planned to get to back to Bath, offering to drop my girlfriend and I at the train station. I said that I was hopefully going to try and get over to Fishponds to pick up my friends Triumph Acclaim that he'd offered to lend me with a view to buying off him for £50. If I could get it going I hoped to drive us back in it.

It seemed my luck was changing. They were going through Fishponds to drop back the bouncy castle they had hired. But it meant travelling in the back of their van. No problem. A lift is a lift.

As they dropped me off, I suddenly remembered what I'd forgotten. The jump leads. I figured though that one of the residents might help me out, it was just a case of knocking on doors to ask. This was something I was very shy of doing in my childhood and youth. Asking for help. I preferred to be the one giving the help. Giving people the answers they were looking for. Helping them if I had the time to. Because I felt that is what really makes the world go round. If we all shared our skills and knowledge and had trust of one another, we wouldn't need money. And it is all too easy. But, mankind is unfortunately a predominantly selfish creature it seems.

My initial asking didn't land me the buried treasure of some jump leads. I decided I would just get in the car and make sure the battery was as flat as my friend had said. It was also now getting quite dark.

I was also physically shattered after my shows and the journeys and mentally tired from all the stress.

I reached for my keys and couldn't find them. My friend had given me the spare key and I'd put it straight on my keyring. I was pretty sure I'd brought them with me. But also remembered the mass panic of when I'd rushed out to try and catch the initial bus.

I carefully went through my pockets. Nothing. I even checked the lining as both pockets had worn through in places. Nothing. I checked through my bag of props and my guitar case. My girlfriend double-checked my jacket pockets, her pockets and the video camera bag. Nothing.

By then, I'd had enough. Suddenly I was shouting at the sky and cursing God again. Why, oh why me? The neighbours even came out to se what the shouting was, while others watched behind curtains, so I waved at them to let them now I'd spotted them.

Why was God being such a bastard when I was trying so hard? Could he not see that all this needn't have happened? I had found the solutions to my problems, the only problem left was that people weren't listening. They preferred their solutions. Even when my solution was the best option for everyone involved not just myself. What was the point of trying to be fair when everyone was being so unfair themselves.? They weren't helping. They were adding to my problems. And wondered why I was getting angry? This wasn't a one off experience, my life is littered by such experiences.

I did though have some money from the shows. Despite the fact that I had given m girlfriend £10 back for the taxi, £5 for the parent who drove me to Shirehampton and reduced the show price by £20 for being late, despite making the time up at the end. Then knocked off £10 for being late to my second show. I decided that we'd just get a bus to the train station and get the train back. I was tired, desolate, angry, disappointed and depressed. Knowing kids were at home telling mum and dad about "Happy Graham." Thank God they couldn't see me now, just a couple of hours afterwards.

We waited for twenty minutes in the cold for a bus. Eventually it arrived. Unfortunately he wasn't going to the station but he could drop us within half a mile. The weight of the bags was beginning to pay their toll. But we had no other option.

On the bus I was convinced I had a spare cigarette that I had also put in my jacket as an earlier bus had arrived just before I'd lit it. I had run out of cigarettes and the search for the keys hadn't turned up this cigarette either. I began to hunt in my jacket pockets to see if it had got caught up in the lining.

I found something, removed it and carried on fumbling in my pockets trying to locate my cigarette. When suddenly I noticed what I had just pulled out, were my keys. Even my girlfriend had double-checked the jacket and it is a large bunch of keys. The mystery remains to this day. Unfortunately we had been on the bus for five minutes and had travelled a fair distance from where the car was.

We stopped the BADGERLINE bus and asked the driver how we could get back to where he'd picked us up? He directed us to bus stop two roads away.

It was another 30 minutes before the BADGERLINE bus came. It was the same driver, who seemed to think it was quite funny. We could just have easily have stayed on the same warm bus rather then wait a further 20 minutes in the cold. We got back to the car to find the back door was unlocked. I would gladly have left a couple of bags there if I had known. But nothing was going to go right that day.

But it did. It didn't start first time, but the battery wasn't completely dead. An expert in driving crap cars, I managed to get it going just before the battery died. Something had gone right at last.

However, this alerted the guy who had been lent the car that someone was trying to move it. I thought he might be none to happy. Fortunately, I had actually met him a few times before and he was pretty cool about it. He just wanted to know who was taking it. A further £10 went on petrol and oil, but finally it got us home. It motored along quite well.

In amongst all this, each night I would try and do some more on the CD. It was very hard sometimes to put the day behind me. Sometimes it was hard to stay patient as things went wrong for no good reason.

In the end I took my computer and essentials up my girlfriends to stay with her for a few days. Because I'd been working so hard in trying to get the CD out I had hardly seen her in 3 weeks. Most nights were spent working until at least 5am. Waking at noon and starting it all over again. At times it was purely my anger that motivated me. Because as I wrote about the earlier abuses, new abuse seemed to be happening by the day for me to add. By moving in with her at least she would catch me in between 6-10pm and possible share breakfast before I crawled into bed, for her to wake meat lunchtime where I would have breakfast and join her.

N the middle of this car crisis I was also having the crisis with my Crown Court Appeal. After pulling out of my Crown Court Appeal I carried out my threat to close my kids' entertainment business and signed on the dole on Monday. Or Job Seekers Allowance, as it's been re-badged, along with Housing Benefit. By doing so I had just signed a contract that doubled my income and made my rent secure and entitled me to automatic free Legal Aid and Health Care.

I would rather have been performing and running a legal business, but it came as some financial relief. I was now 6 weeks behind on my rent and my landlord was understandably getting a little itchy.

The day before the case I had also been pulled up by the Police in my Cavalier, a few days before the clutch bust, because a rear brake light had unbeknown to me stopped working. He was walking away with a warning to get it fixed when he asked me also to do a producer. But more on that later. But things were mounting up for me again.

An appointment was made with Bath Job Centre for the Wednesday for the formalities. I changed my ansaphone message to let everyone know that Happy Graham had quit and why. I mentioned my CD was out shortly and would document abuses by people in Authority, including the Police. One of the first messages I got, was from the Police. To say that my Cavalier, which AVONDALE GARAGE had been supposed to transfer to BAILCROFT MOTORS for the repair work, had been found dumped on the road near my house. More about that later, but the Policeman heard my ansaphone message. And the following events happened.

On the Wednesday, after the interview at Bath Job centre, I was told that it would be a while before any money came through but that I could always get a crisis loan. Having borrowed so much off my girlfriend, who had told me she could afford no more, I decided that this would be a good idea.

I went immediately down the road to the Bath DSS to apply for the Crisis Loan. Having never applied for one before I asked for advice on filling in the form. I had no idea how much I could apply for and what was the best terminology to use for my situation as to why I needed the loan?

The assistant behind her protective glass told me to put down that I had mis-spent my money.

Comments like that is why they put them behind protective glass. I was disgusted with her and let her know verbally but refrained from profanities. I angrily stated how could I have mis-spent my money if I hadn't received any yet?

After filling out the form she then told me I had to wait until I was called, but if I wasn't seen by 3pm it was unlikely I would get any money, which was my fault for leaving it too late.

In fact I had come straight after my interview to sign on. Where do they get these people? I hadn't wanted to be in this position in the first place. It was entirely due to my busking ban.

I got called over at five past three. It was a different assistant who said she would try and get it through and did I have a bank statement showing I had nothing in my account? I replied that I didn't, but if I had been informed I needed one, I easily could have gone and got one instead of waiting for 30 minutes to be called up. I told her I would run to the cashpoint and get one. She said it was unlikely I'd get any money that day because of this delay.

My account with MIDLAND BANK had been frozen years ago. My debts and subsequent suicide attempts being the reason. But the full story about that will be on my next CD, "SUICIDE", which will be in a game format

I am not allowed another bank account due to what MIDLAND has placed on my Credit files, but I am allowed a savings account at a Building Society. I sprinted to my Building Society, The ABBEY NATIONAL in Bath City Centre.

The cashpoint was out of order. I ran inside the branch and asked if they could quickly me run me off a statement. They asked why I didn't use the machine? That was what my card was for.

I managed to keep my temper and explain I would have if it had been working. She then told me she could run off a statement for me, but it would cost £3 because the account was meant to be a machine only account. I again pointed out that the machine didn't work. I managed to get the attention of the manager and explained the situation to her. She said there would be a £3 charge, but because of the circumstances she would arrange for a refund and gave me a statement showing I had 83p to my name.

(Surprising though that they later forgot to take the charge off and bounced a Direct Debit and sent a letter saying that I now was to be charged £25 for the privilege. Once again I got on the phone and explained the situation and the charges removed. Now that made it eight times in eight months.)

I sprinted back to the DSS where she told me that it was too late. It had gone 3:15pm. I pointed out that the situation could have been avoided if I'd been informed correctly, could she please do her job and sort it. Couldn't she see what they were putting me through at a desperate time? She said she would try.

Finally I was called in and told they couldn't give me the £60 I had asked for, but would give me £45. It wasn't enough but I accepted it. It was better then nothing and I was almost too out of breath and too pissed off to argue.

On the Thursday I had been invited over to my sister and her boyfriends new house for a small family party to welcome my mum back from Australia. She had been out there for 3 months to see my younger sister provide her with her first grandchild. She'd been home for a week and only reported one problem. Her car had seized up on the driveway. The repair quote was expensive.

Of course that didn't have to have happened did it. (Sigh.)

If her car had been lent to me, then the journey I made that night would probably have been to return her car. Instead I decided to give my new Triumph a quick run out. I was insured 3^rd party on my insurance and knew it had a MOT, even if I didn't have it. It would soon have a new one and tax disk.

That's if I kept my licence the following day. On the Friday I had a court appearance to make. Having been stopped with a rear brake light out driving my Cavalier as mentioned earlier. As an after thought the Policeman asked me to produce my documents.

In trying to get a copy of my insurance certificate because I couldn't find it, I was told it had run out two months previously. I got it re-started straight away. I already had 9 points on my licence. Surely the magistrates would take my previous insurance record into account I hoped. It was clearly an oversight, caused by my traumatic move in July.

My prospective new landlord changed his mind at last minute. He'd previously suffered a stroke and was still recovering. He had recognised me as he had seen me busking in Bath. He had been on his way to a function at the Pump Rooms. He went in late as he waited to hear me finish my set. As he showed me around his house he told me that everyone in the Pump Room was commenting that the better music was coming from outside it then the music they'd paid to see.

However, the day I was meant to move in he changed his mind. That left me 1 day to find a new place. My landlady was holding a dinner party and said there was no way I could stay on any longer.

She didn't care I had no where to go, my contract was up and I had to leave. Fortunately I found my current lodgings at 4pm the following day. My final things were moved from the farm on the stroke of midnight. But once again I was put through hell. Finding anything after all the packing was a nightmare, which is why I originally pleaded with the officer who stopped me, to forget about the document producer. But this seemed to be more of an incentive to him to make me do it. But in doing so I found I was un-insured, but knew how the oversight had come about. But would the court be lenient?

It was a nice evening at my sister's place and nice to see my mum after so long. My girlfriend enjoyed it too.

But the journey back it all went wrong again. I was waiting at a roundabout ready to turn on the M32 motorway. One problem I'd found with the Triumph was that the fan belt screamed, unless you had very low or high revs. As it was late and a residential area I was taking it easy and using low revs. But even then the fan belt still screamed occasionally. I then noticed a police car behind me.

I got onto the roundabout and suddenly behind me off went the blue lights and he started flashing his headlights. I though he must have just got a call so pulled over to let him pass. Instead they pulled up behind me, still on the roundabout.

I got out and asked what the problem was? He said he was concerned that my exhaust was blowing a bit too much and he just wanted to check the car.

I pointed out it would have been far easier and far less dangerous to have allowed me to get onto the motorway slip road and pull me over to the hard shoulder, then stop me on a busy motorway roundabout?

But by then I knew they were just out to get me. Whatever the risks to other motorists. Even with a different car. Maybe my answerphone message was a bad idea. But I was still interested to see how far they'd go. I was still writing this CD document.

He inspected the exhaust and yes it was blowing a bit. I told him quite genuinely that I had questioned myself whether the exhaust was blowing a bit, or was the throaty sound the natural sound of a Triumph. After all, they were far better known for making motorbikes.

He then found the broken windscreen wiper and the fact that there was no tax. I pointed out I had had the car for two days, with a view to buying it. This was only the second journey I had made in the car. He gave me a producer and a rectification notice. I think the presence of my girlfriend stopped them going any further. She insisted on getting out the car and coming across and deliberately listening to the conversation. Aware of what had been happening to me recently.

My girlfriend had been there previously when my car had overheated and I'd gone to get some water for the radiator from a firework show. The Police quickly pounced with a parking ticket. They even watched as I filled the radiator up in front of their eyes. They said they still didn't believe me!

Instead they then noticed the tax was also out and further issued me a warning note regarding this. He did so with a smile. I drove straight to Bridewell Police Station and complained. I'd had enough.

It turned out they were a couple of "Specials" who were probably a bit keen. The police wrote saying they had dropped the parking ticket. But another evening out was ruined. However I then started receiving letters inquiring about the lack of a tax disk which still is a problem, due to two different MOT stations failing it on completely different things, three weeks apart. But read on! .

When the "No Insurance" case went to court, I took 17 years of other insurance in support of my case that it was an oversight due to my somewhat fraught life. It was requested that I bring my driving licence to court. Except on the Friday morning my wallet was no-where to be found. A quick search turned up nothing and I hurriedly checked the two shops I'd been to. Nothing had been handed in.

I arrived at the court twenty minutes late. I explained that I was supposed to bring my licence, but it was in my wallet, which I'd been unable to find. Which I was quite concerned about as it contained the £48 Crisis Loan I'd got from the DSS. They asked me if I had checked at the Police Station? I replied that I hadn't, that I had only realised it was missing that very morning. I'd probably just misplaced it.

I managed to get to speak to the Duty Solicitor who said I should prepare myself to lose my licence. That having no insurance was automatically 6 points, no matter what the circumstances.

He then said that because of my problems, especially with my current financial position and unemployment, he may be able to persuade them not to suspend my licence. I pointed out that I felt that every point on my licence was unjustified. I gave him a run down of the persecution I've seemed to have had since having the story in the paper and winning costs when the Police tried to convict me shortly afterwards.

The Prosecution in Court was able to confirm that I had a licence and that it had nine points on it. That if found guilty today I would exceed the maximum twelve points.

The Duty Solicitor got me to plead guilty but gave the mitigating circumstances. That I had otherwise been insured for seventeen years and that I needed the car if I was either to return to my entertainment or find new work in the Marketing field. That I had previously had a nervous breakdown and a Doctor had previously written a letter to the court in an earlier case when my licence was in possible jeopardy, that to lose my licence would be detrimental to the good recovery I had been making. And to lose my licence over this, with my good insurance record, would be somewhat unjust.

The Magistrates were on the face of it, lenient. In awarding six penalty points, taking my total in two years from none to fifteen, they said they had taken my circumstances into account and that I could keep my licence. But one more offence and I would be banned.

I wondered what would happen from being stopped the previous night?

They then announced I had a £100 fine. I almost fell over. A high price for a brake light not working.

The Magistrate then asked me how I intended to pay the fine?

I replied honestly "I don't know Sir, it all hurts."

Talk about silence in court.

He broke the silence by saying he would suggest £4 a week be taken from my benefit payments. That if I had problems keeping that up to apply to the court to possibly have it reduced. I gave a stunned nod.

Getting home I did a big thorough search for my wallet, visiting anywhere I'd been over the last two days. Nothing. In the early evening afternoon I took the courts advice and phoned the Police Station to see if my wallet had been handed in, but wasn't that hopeful.

To my surprise it had. Except the money I'd got from the Crisis loan had apparently gone. At 9:30pm on the Friday I was reunited with my wallet. The person who had handed it in had asked not to be contacted. I pointed out to the officer that over £40 was missing, which had been a Crisis loan. He commiserated with me that I had been unlucky.

What he didn't do was advise me that they keep a telephone number at the Police Station for anyone needing an out of hours Crisis Loan. Neither did he tell me that the Police had contacted my Building Society and got my cards stopped. This I found out on the Monday when I went to the DSS to see if they could replace the stolen Crisis Loan and tried to get the necessary Bank statement with the cards. But read on dear reader!

I knew it was going to almost an impossibility to get the MOT for the Triumph, for the new "Producer" I had just received on the motorway roundabout. If it had one. My friend was not sure that his friend had bothered getting one when I asked him.

I knew I had been insured because the Cover Note that I had received from Endsleigh Insurance had given March 11th as the last day of the Cover Note. They had then sent a letter stating that the Insurance would be stopped because I hadn't sent in the completed forms.

The reason for this was because they didn't send me the forms to complete until 2 days after sending that letter. I had phoned and corrected them at the time, but more needless hassle during my many other crisis's that were going on at the same time.

I hadn't heard back from Avondale Garage so I went in to find the score. This is when they said they had inspected the car and felt there was a fair amount to put right, to them it was un-economical to fix it. They no longer wanted it on their premises and didn't want to do the work even if I did. But they suggested BAILCROFT MOTORS who specialised in doing up second-hand cars and were far cheaper then them. Avondale sometimes did the MOTs for them. They would gladly tow the car up there for no extra charge.

Having no transport I walked to this Bailcroft Motors. It turned out to be some land at a residential home on the outskirts of the village. There were no signs, but a few old cars scattered around the place. No one was around, but while I was there someone else called in.

They explained they were dropping off their car, but knew the owner had suffered a broken leg. He advised me to leave a message. I wrote a note explaining the situation and left my number for them to get in contact. He did the following day.

I said that as I had the Triumph as a run-around, that time wasn't much of a factor, I just needed the cheapest price possible. He said he could possibly help, his leg was almost better and he had no objection to the car being towed up there by Avondale Garage. I phoned Avondale and asked them to deliver it as they had promised, which they did. Which is why I believed it to be with Bailcroft Motors when the Police left the message on my answerphone to say my Cavalier had been found dumped not far from my house.

By now I was under a lot of stress and turned up at my girlfriends flat with the Triumph containing everything I needed to complete the CDs. I asked if I could stay a few days? I'd still be working, but at least we'd get some time with each other in between. That few days turned into a couple of weeks.

Still things were occasionally going wrong with the various computer programs I was using and the Hewlett Packard 690C printer. Many times for no logical reason except to spite me. Things like the printer suddenly deciding it didn't recognise the black cartridge. On getting it replaced the colour one ran out. After topping up the ink the yellow decided it wasn't going to work.

When it eventually decided to work the Photo Cartridge ran out. Several times I asked my girlfriend for the money I needed to buy things to continue. She was worried her money was also running out now. Fortunately she too had a lot of faith in what I was doing with the CD. When eventually I persuaded her to part with the money the shops in Bath had run out of stock, I needed more money to get to Bristol to get them. More un-needed time, hassle and expense because people weren't doing their jobs.

On the Tuesday I decided I would see if I could get the stolen Crisis Loan replaced. If my first experience had been traumatic, it was a wheeze compared to this time. After explaining that the first loan had been stolen, they asked me if I had any proof? I pointed out that my empty wallet had been handed in at the Police Station on the Friday evening and quoted the case number.

The girl looked at me slightly puzzled. She asked if I had explained to the Policeman that it had been a Crisis Loan that had been stolen and replied I had.

She said she was surprised the policeman who had dealt with it hadn't given me the number to get an emergency out-of hours-payment. That unfortunately they couldn't backdate the payment to Friday to replace the money that had been lent by my girlfriend over the weekend. If I'd rung from the Police Station I would have received money to cover the weekend period as well as up to my next signing on date. She could only offer me £20 Crisis Loan.

I told her that she had just signed my death certificate. I was sick of being the victim of abuse from Authorities. Time and time again I was the innocent victim of their mistakes, but it was me who had always had to live with the consequences. I rejected the cheque and ran out with intentions of no stopping on reaching the road. It was the final straw.

My last piece of sanity pulled me back. I stopped at the roadside and pulled out a cigarette. If I did it then my story would never be known. My CD was so near to completion it wasn't worth it. It was just one more story to add to it.

Except it didn't stop there. While having the cigarette I realised that £20 was better then nothing. That it wasn't just the girl who was issuing the cheques fault. I would go back in and apologise and take the £20. I finished the cigarette and turned to go back inside. Except the steward had locked the door.

I waved him over through the door and he came over and said sorry, but they were closed. He knew I'd only just come out of the place and had been waiting for an hour previously inside. Fortunately for me there were still a couple of people needing to come out. When he opened the door for them he again said he couldn't let me back in.

I explained that I had walked out without my cheque because it wasn't enough. But it was better then nothing and I also felt that I owed the girl an apology. He said sorry, he wasn't going to let me in.

I've learnt not to let prats like that stand in my way and walked past him and to the counter. He came over and asked me to leave. I told him I would leave when I had apologised to the girl and taken the £20 I desperately needed. That if he really wanted to do his job he could help find the girl and the sooner I would be out.

He refused. He said that he was asking me to leave and if I didn't he would call the police. I told him to go and call the police then. I had only been out of the building for four minutes and that I was sure if I spoke to the girl she would understand. I again pointed out that I had been upset and wanted to also apologise to her for what I'd said to her. Could he please just help find her and I would be on my way.

He glared at me, turned to walk towards the door to the counters and then came back and tried picking a fight with me. While I was sorely tempted to land one on him I managed to resist. He said that I was scum and it wasn't his job to help my claim, his job was to keep order in the place and he was again asking me to leave.

By then though I had managed to attract the attention of one of the girls still behind the counter. Ignoring him I began to explain myself to her and asked to speak to the girl that had been about to give me a cheque before I had stormed out.

To my amazement he shouted from behind me for her not to bother, I'd have to come back tomorrow. I looked at her and she began to look around for the girl. The steward quickly marched to the counter door saying, "I'll make bloody sure you don't get anything" and went off behind the counter.

Two minutes later the girl behind the counter came back and said that she couldn't find the cheque and that the girl I'd spoken to had gone home. That there was unfortunately no one there who could issue a cheque, I'd have to come back tomorrow.

I pointed out that I had been out of the building for 5 minutes at the most. I didn't believe she'd managed to pack up and go in such a short period. That my belief was that the Steward was pulling a little bit more weight then his position allowed. The girl called over another girl who also explained that the girl had left and there was no cheque for me in the box.

What I knew, was that the possibility that this was a complete pack of lies was around the 99.9% mark.

I waited another five minutes but they simply all left the counter. The steward stood behind the glass grinning. Before leaving I noted down the address of the District Manager who handled complaints. I told the steward that if I were him I would destroy the security camera tapes otherwise I would try to have them used as evidence against him. Because several times he had walked away from me then come back for another go. Hopefully their camera caught all this.

Before leaving empty handed I informed this Steward that either way I would be writing to the District Manager regarding his conduct. And congratulations, he was about also be made famous on my CD. Hopefully he'll understand now what I meant. How he got the job of a Steward at a place like that God only knows. His job is to deter violence, not try to start it! I have no doubts he wanted me to hit him. Because the consequences against me would have been enormous. In fact I think my resistance from hitting him is what annoyed him the most. But I knew what he was trying to do and hopefully the security tapes if found will reveal the truth of the situation. But will they check them on reading this? My guess is that they'll be missing for one reason or another.

I hung around outside to try and spot the girl who had offered me the cheque leaving the building. But I think they soon cottoned on to what I was doing. I then decided that even if I did see her I had no proof except my word. But my camcorder was at my girlfriend's flat nearby!

I quickly returned to get it and hung around outside for an hour. Another security guard came out asked me what I was doing and that he had informed the Police. I told him I had every legal right to stand on the street with a video camera, why was he so concerned if they were telling the truth?

He said he was concerned because I wasn't exactly acting normally was I?

I agreed with him. A normal client there would have left his colleague horizontal. Fortunately I had a bit more sense. I hung around a bit longer but didn't see her come out, but there were several exits she could have used. Or the fact is she may well have got her coat and run as soon as I'd left the room. I wouldn't want to work there either with staff like that. I decided to go home and sit out the wait for my first benefits cheque.

Finally, my first benefit cheque came. Except it was half the amount I had expected.

I rang and was told that they don't pay for the first three days and only pay in arrears. They had though deducted an amount for the Crisis Loan that had been stolen. This meant I had £45 to pay back some of the money I had borrowed from my girlfriend over the weekend, leaving £20 to last 2 weeks. By the time I'd bought some groceries it had virtually gone with nine days left to survive. There was nothing else I could do but apply for another Crisis Loan.

This time it went a bit smoother. They treated me with caution and gave me £30. The same steward was there but I simply sat well away from him. Strangely he found the need to keep walking past me. Fortunately there was a good article in the paper and I simply ignored him.

There was the inevitable wait again so I went outside for a cigarette. While having it I noticed this steward talking to the young steward also working that day, who had been quite helpful when I'd asked for something. He stood there pointing at me and making gestures.

The young steward's attitude later changed towards me when I spoke to him to thank him before I left. He spoke to me as if I was an idiot, but with reserved politeness. I told him that e shouldn't listen to his colleague. That his previous attitude had been helpful and polite and that whatever his colleague had told him, that I too hadn't forgotten him. That if I were his colleague I would be practising filling out Crisis Loan forms.

After a few days at my girlfriends I realised I hadn't heard anything about my Cavalier for a while. Not that I was in any rush but I had at least expected a quote from Bailcroft Motors. I also wanted to make sure that Avondale Garage had towed the car to them. I had been checking my answerphone remotely from my girlfriends flat in Bath, but had heard nothing from them. Unfortunately I had left Avondales number at home. I resolved that I would pop by in the next couple of days for an update.

Instead what happened, was the following day I received a message on my answerphone from a Police Officer.

I realised straight away he would have heard the message on the tape saying I was about to release a CD that told of abuses by people in authority, including the Police. I could only wonder what he made of it. The message said he was ringing in relation to a vehicle and quoted the registration number of my Cavalier. I decided it was definitely time to have a word with Avondale Garage. I needed a trip home to check my mail as well.

I called in at Avondale and spoke to the son. He had great delight in telling me that my car had been left dumped outside the pub near where I lived and had been there for a few days. He claimed he had no idea how it got there, he had personally towed to Bailcroft Motors the day after I had requested him to do so.

I put it to him that maybe he knew a bit more then he was telling me. To which he smiled back. He said that all he could tell me was that he lived nearby himself and had spotted the car a few days ago.

I put it to him that he knew the car was untaxed with no MOT and that he knew where I lived, why had he not at least informed me? Especially as the last time I had seen the car it was in his care?

Because it wasn't his problem, he replied.

I went to check and sure enough it was there, with three flat tyres. It was locked up and I had no spare key. The boot was quite easy to get into and contained my two busking amplifiers, worth over £150. Fortunately they were still there. I moved them into my Triumph. Now it was war.

I noticed a few neighbours were staring at me, so I wondered if anyone knew the story of how it got there? The story they told me was quite intriguing.

Apparently the car had been dumped on the Private Road where they lived in, about a week previously. Nobody knew whose it was, so they contacted the Police.

It seemed the Police recognised it as mine, but couldn't do anything while it was on Private Land. So with the help of some of the neighbours had pushed it onto the public highway. Now it was causing an offence. Now they could do something.

I had used the car throughout the summer in Bath. The Traffic Wardens knew it was my car. Having been stopped four times, for no reason of course, I'm sure the Police knew whose it was. Having come to my house to serve a court notice on me, for that car, they had a good idea where I lived.

Instead, as I later found out, they decided they would have to track me down by visiting my previous addresses, including Beach Farm House. To chat to my old landlords/ladies and housemates for any information they could get about me. I know this because I phoned Spod my bass player who lived in the cottage next to the farm. His wife told me the police had been round a few days earlier asking if they "knew the whereabouts of a Mr. Graham Walker, they needed to locate me urgently about an offence." Such wording of course makes it sound like I've committed rather a nasty crime. She told me had also spoken to my previous landlady next door.

I was somewhat surprised they hadn't informed me. She said she gave the Police my mobile number. Which I had with me at my girlfriends, but strangely received no call. But then I realised that because the CELLNET reception is so bad at her flat, that when the call can't get through it is automatically diverted to my home phone, to which my answerphone is attached. Had CELLNET got their act together I'd have received the initial call. The Police would have not have heard the message I had left for my customers, not them, to hear. And maybe this apparent current witch-hunt wouldn't have started. But there again I wondered if the old witch-hunt by them since the Tow-Away ever had.

I phoned my former landlady to explain. She denied the Police had been, which made me even more cautious. I knew they had. I then offered to bring her round a copy of my CD and a copy each for the kids of the video I'd given them as a late Christmas present. She said they would pass on that one and put the phone down on me.

I'm sure it's not nice to get a visit from the Police. The implication is that the person they are looking for has done something wrong. That type of mud sticks. People become wary of you, they know the police are looking for you.

Of course the only thing I had done was take my car to the garage to be repaired. It had been legally parked off the road at my garage until Avondale Garage came to collect it.

I went up to Bailcroft Garage and no one was there. I returned to Avondale Garage and asked if they still had the key? He smiled and said that he didn't. Sorry, he couldn't help. I looked him in the eyes and suggested he knew a lot more then he was telling me. He shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

I told him he would be hearing from my Solicitor soon and congratulations, he and his garage had just found themselves onto my CD.

I drove back to my girlfriends and phoned the Bath Police. Apparently the officer I needed to speak to had just gone off duty. Typical hey! His message to me though had also given his voice-mail number, so I rang it and explained what had actually happened with my car.

The following day I went down to Bailcroft Motors three times and eventually caught the owner there.

He was actually quite polite to talk too and was the first time I'd actually met him in person.

He explained that he had checked the car over and decided that there really was too much work to be done to make it economical to fix. He had unfortunately lost my phone number but knew I lived nearby. He thought that by dumping it back on the Private Road that I would spot it and contact him.

I asked him why he hadn't simply phoned Avondale Garage and asked them? He said it didn't cross his mind. But now he knew of the problem that he would happily move it for me.

Maybe I'm a sucker, but he seemed to be telling me the truth. I then asked if he did welding? He said he did.

I put it to him that the situation was best put right by him moving my Cavalier back onto my driveway and doing the work on my Triumph to get it back on the road. I had taken the Triumph to another garage for an MOT. It had expectedly failed, but there seemed to be quite a lot of welding work. The exhaust and the bulbs I had already fixed for the Rectification notice I'd received.

He gave the Triumph a quick once over and said that while the work would normally be around £350, he would get an MOT on it for £200 but couldn't do it until the following week. But he would move my Cavalier the following day. It just shows what can happen when you talk to the right person. Or so I then thought.

4 days later, and several phone calls later, when he said he would be round within the hour, the Cavalier still sat in the same spot. The only difference being that it had a notice stuck on it from the Police. Saying that if it wasn't moved in 7 days they would arrange to have it towed away and destroyed. Charging me £200 for doing so.

With three flat tyres and no key, it was not something I could do myself. I rang the Police but they told me it was my problem and that if it wasn't moved on Friday, I'd only have further problems.

Am I once again being forced into the position of innocent victim here?

Well, certainly yes, if that following Saturday was anything to go by.

While I had closed my children's entertainment business, I still had a backlog of videos of the show to get out to recent customers. Being short of money I decided instead of sending them I would drive around Bristol delivering them. To get everything out the way before starting my "Looking For Trouble" campaign.

Well, first a Police car in Bath followed me. He even pulled across and let two cars go by and then pulled in front of me. He didn't stop me, but let me know he was there. Then in Bristol the identical thing happened. On finishing delivering the videos I decided to check my Cavalier had been moved as promised. As I got to Batheaston roundabout I noticed a Police squad car sitting on there.

As I went round the corner, surprise surprise he started following me. I watched the Speedo intently and kept at just over 30mph. I didn't want to give them any excuse to pull me over. They didn't need one. He pulled me over and told me I had been going at 45 mph. I asked him if he had any proof, to which he replied his colleague in the car would validate his observations. You can't win against that can you?

He decided he would just give me a caution on this occasion. I then pointed out that the reason I was going along the road was that my other car was illegally on the road in Batheaston. It had been on Private Road but the Police had pushed it onto the road and now it was causing an offence. I was just going to check to see if the garage had moved as they had promised, as they had been the ones who had dumped it on the Private Road. Could he advise me of my legal situation regarding this and what to do if I found it hadn't been moved yet as had been promised to me several times?

Strangely he didn't want to know. He told me to drive carefully and walked back to his patrol car. I followed him and again asked him for his advice on the situation. He told me that he had stopped me because of my driving and that was all he wanted to talk to me about and refused to answer any of my questions. Nor check with me that the car had been moved as I had requested. Strange hey?

The car of course was still there. Much to my annoyance and disappointment, I really thought that Bailcroft Motors would be as good as their word and move it that day as promised. I had told him I was going off to Yorkshire in the afternoon, so I don't think he expected me to go back and check.

Driving back to my girlfriends flat in Bath I decided I would make one more journey. To Bath Police Station, to report what had just happened. The police it seemed where jumping at any opportunity to book my car, but when I was offended against, didn't want to know.

 It was 1:20am when I got to the police Station. No-one was at the front desk so I rang the bell and waited patiently as the notice requested. Five minutes later I rang it again. Still no-one came. I wasn't going to be got rid of that easily so I decided to carry on waiting. Eventually a girl in uniform put her head round the corner and came to deal with my inquiry.

I told her about the car, the garage, how I'd been followed all day and eventually pulled over for a false reason. That the claim I had been doing 45 mph was completely false. What I hadn't done was get the policeman's number, so I asked her if she knew which policeman was patrolling around there?

To my amazement, she said didn't have a clue. She had no idea which policemen were out on the beat, who were in patrol cars or where they were. I enquired if I actually was at the Police station and what she would do if there were suddenly an emergency in a particular area? Who would she contact and how? She said she was there to man the phone, the rest was dealt with from central communications.

I replied that this was a typical response, and as I was writing a CD about abuse by people in Authority that I would like to quote her on what she'd just said. I would also be writing a report of the incident to the Chief Constable and what was her name please? She said she didn't have to give her name. I sighed and asked for hr number. She replied she didn't have a number.

I knew that she was lying and just stared at her. She quickly retorted that I hadn't been forthcoming with my name so why should she help me? I replied with my full name, my pseudo names of "Happy Graham Childrens Entertainer" and "Grod Groddler the Banned Busker of Bath." Who had just about finished a CD on abuse by people in Authority, including the Police, which was called "Looking For Trouble." And congratulations, this incident was going to be on it. That I knew she had a number and by law she was required to give it to me. Reluctantly 8908 gave it to me.

After this I did actually have quite a pleasant chat with her. Explaining that the CD is not an Anti-police, Anti-Authority CD. Just a truthful account of what's happened to me over the last 5 years and abuse I perceive to have been an innocent victim of. Which could all be co-incidences. I returned half an hour later and gave her a test copy. Minus this rather important document of course, as it was yet to be completed. But there again I didn't expect so much to happen in the last three weeks!

Of course though with enough mud, some sticks. The newsagent down the road decided that I would have to spend more then £5 if I used my Electron card. Before they just swiped it through. I asked again this evening and they asked me to read the sign. The sign said that Delta cards and MasterCard's would only be honoured for purchases of £5 or more. It said nothing of Electron card. Instead they lost a sale of £3. The last £3 in my account. I desperately needed some toilet paper, coffee and cigarettes.

Of course they have lost more then that £3 sale. Because of course now I'm reluctant to go there and I was becoming a regular. Instead I will now usually go to the nearby Londis shop where the service has always been excellent. The manager has helped me out on several occasions when I have been slightly short of money, knowing I always come back and pay it when I have it. Who even accepted some stamps as part payment when was particularly broke. Which later that day I replaced with the necessary money when a housemate kindly offered to lend me £5. Which I repaid two days later. The fact was, he tried to help and has gained a customer. And gets a nice mention on this CD. I stopped going so often because it was easier to use my Electron card at the other shop. But good service pays and the staff also helpful and friendly.

However, how long would you live in area where the Authorities can cause an individual so many problems which begin to give you a bad reputation to others. With a knock-on effect. With everyone believing that there is never smoke without fire.

I've been told frequently that I'm not being victimised, why would Police and Authorities waste their time doing that? Well I know that computers are excellent for compiling and circulating lists. And when you are on some lists, some people just know that fact. Not the facts behind why you are on that list. Some lists are impossible to get off once your name is on it.

But now you know at least part my story… you decide. Pure co-incidence? Or witch-hunt.

To mention nothing of the four Parking tickets I've received. Because there is a Court date set in Bath & Wynsdyke Magistrates Court, 10:00am on for April 19^th, the day before my birthday. Where I will detail how I received each one. I expect to be told that I'm unlucky, but I've got to pay up, plus costs.

But everybody else will feel I've had rough justice. But I may be wrong.

There are more stories of course, some happier ones then these tales. But there again "Looking For Trouble" I intend to be the first of a series of four CDs. Alongside "Suicide" and "Harmonisation" I have decided while doing this CD to do a further one called "Master and Servant." Each CD will be uniquely different and speak of different aspects of my life, relationships, experiences and hopes and thoughts for the future. Set to my own songs and music. And expect also some game play!

I am also hoping to compile a set of funny but educational CDs for Children, using my experience from seven years and over 2,000 "Happy Graham" shows

But I finish this story by leaving in the things below, written when compiling this CD.

If you`d like to make your own CD

Rule 1. Don`t call it "Looking For Trouble", because

1. That`s my CD and I claim all copyright (But will probably find it got copyrighted by an American Gangster Rap band ten years ago)
2. It's what you'll probably get! I did. What was meant to be a loving tribute to my dog of a few songs I'd written, which I hoped to sell a few while busking, has resulted in this. With computer crashes all the way. Just when you solve the problem and it's soon going to be finished, suddenly something else goes wrong for no logical reason whatsoever. It's just "Looking For Trouble". Not mentioning printers mysteriously refusing to print, CD Writers refusing to work, speakers that hum no matter what you do to stop it from vibrating, to wondering why the sound qualities gone from all your recorded songs and spend three days trying desperately trying to fix them, without success. To find that what's actually happened is you've blown your headphones up and just wasted 3 days!

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BUT NOW IT'S DONE, I`M GONNA HOUND THE COUNCIL

BUT FIRST…..

Thankyou Del Amitri for "Nothing ever happens" sung by Jez on the video. Just capturing the atmosphere of the day, great song. Please refrain from suing for copyright!

Thankyou John Denver for "Annie's Song". Featured in the video of me busking. You were an inspiration of my teens and I was disgusted by the way the BBC reported your death.

"Annie's Song" was the first song I played together with Jez on. Because I busked the John Denver version, while he played the "James Galway" version on his flute busking set. It brought us together and he even made guest appearances in my set for that one song, and sometimes me in his. It was the first song that ever made me weep. So while his estate I know are keen to pursue any copyright, maybe turn a blind eye to a struggling busker?

Thankyou and apologies to anybody else's copyright I've unknowingly breached. I'm not really "Looking For Trouble."

CAMPAIGN SLOGAN: "DON`T BE A SOD, DON`T BAN GROD!"

& "PEACE OFF! GROD'S@WAR!"

CAMPAIGN: POSTERS OF "TROUBLE "… "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS DOG? BE REWARDED AND FIND HER."

& "WATCH OUT! GRODS ABOUT, AND THIS TIME HE`S LOOKING FOR TROUBLE."

FOR THEIR RIDICULOUS BAN AND DEFENCE OF IT.

FOR PROVIDING FAULTY EQUPMENT AND NOT ADMITTING IT, SETTING BACK THE PRODUCTION OF THIS CD BY SEVERAL STRESS FILLED MONTHS. INSTEAD ADVISING ME TO BUY MORE SHODDY GOODS THAT DIDN'T RESOLVE THE PROBLEM, AT A TIME I COULD LEAST AFFORD TO. WITH CUSTOMER SERVICE THAT LET ME KNOW I WASN'T WELCOME. WHO BLEW UP MY MOTHERBOARD AND GOT ME TO PAY FOR THE REPLACEMENT, WHO DELIVERED IT BACK WITH MY MODEM NOT FUNCTIONING AND THE NEW MOTHERBOARD FAULTY, MY PROGRAMS IN COMPLETE DISARRAY. WHO EVENTUALLY REPLACED MY CD WRITER ONLY AFTER I HAD IRREFUTABLE PROOF THAT IT HAD ALWAYS BEEN FAULTY. AND MAYBE THEY HAD EVEN SOLD ME IT KNOWING IT WAS FAULTY, AS I'D COMPLAINED BITTERLY ABOUT IT AND THE FIRST ONE THEY HAD SOLD ME, WHICH WASN'T DESIGNED TO WORK WITH THE SOFTWARE WHICH THEY SAID IT DID AND CLAIMED EVEN TO HAVE USED THEMSELVES.

FOR DELAYING FOR SEVERAL MONTHS (NOT WEEKS) BENEFITS THAT I WAS LEGALLY ENTITLED TO AND DESPERAETLY NEEDED, ALREADY SEVERLY IN DEBT, SEVERELY DEPRESSED AND VERY NEW TO THE CITY. WHO KEPT RATHER SUSPICIOUSLY LOSING MY CLAIMS AND RE-REQUIRING INFORMATION THAT I HAD ALREADY SUBMITTED.

THOSE WHO HAVE STOPPED MY VEHICLE SEVERAL TIMES OR FOLLOWED ME FOR CONSIDERABLE DISTANCE, ESPECIALLY SINCE THE ANNOUNCEMENT I WAS GOING PUBLIC WITH MY STORY AND THE POLICE WOULD BE MENTIONED. POLICE WHO TWICE EVEN PULLED ACROSS TO ALLOW TRAFFIC TO PASS TO GET IN FRONT OF ME. FOLLOWING ME THREE TIMES IN THE SAME DAY UNTIL EVENTUALLY PULLING ME OVER AS I NEARED HOME AND SAID I WAS DOING 45MPH IN A 30MPH AREA. I KNEW I WAS DOING 30MPH, BECAUSE I KNEW HE WAS BEHIND ME! STRANGELY HE HAD NO PROOF AND JUST WANTED TO WARN ME, NOT BOOK ME.

THAT THE 15 POINTS ON MY DRIVING LICENCE THAT HAVE APPEARED IN THE LAST TWO YEARS ARE UNDESERVED ONES. YET I HAVE HAD TO PAY THE CONSEQUENCES IN FINES, INCREASED INSURANCE COSTS AT A TIME OF GRAET FINANCIAL HARDSHIP. ALSO THE TIME LOST SPENT PREPARING FOR THE CASES, WITH THE ENSUING STRESS AND THREAT TO MY LIVLIHOOD MAKING ME ILL AND FURTHER DEPRESSED AND FRUSTRATED.

1. Deciding to pursue legal action against me when caught doing 56mph on a 40mph dual carriageway, on a Sunday afternoon, the Speed Camera photo revealing no other car even on the road at either side of this huge dual carriageway. Nor was I a threat to pedestrians as large railings were erected. No other cars on the photo including of course the car I had just overtaken, which had engine problems causing their speed to fluctuate, so I decided to get well ahead of him for safety sakes. If they'd monitored the rest of the journey they would have found it to have been either on or just below the speed limit, allowing for the actual road circumstances. I had a clean licence for 17 years driving that way. The Police have a choice of whether to pursue motorists caught by cameras. Licence plates soon reveal the most likely driver and I guess, helps make up their mind who to pursue and who to turn a blind eye. I didn't get the blind eye treatment. A decision was made that I should be prosecuted. I wonder why? At court I decided to go and listen to other cases until mine came up. Just interested to see how justice worked before my case came up. And heard the solicitors laugh and joke about the forthcoming Speed Camera case. What loony tune was I going to spin? How he loved dealing with camera cases as they are impossible to defend against but it was a good laugh hearing people try. When they asked the usher to eventually call for me they went very quiet to find I'd been sitting behind them for two hours, listening to their conversation. RESULT: 3 POINTS FOR SPEEDING. AND £30 FINE (THE CAMERA NEVER LIES.)
2. I went through a set of Traffic Lights that I simply didn't see. Despite the fact that I was looking for a right turn and the lights were at the junction. Unfortunately, there was someone coming the other way and an accident. Fortunately no injuries. In investigating why I didn't see the lights at all, I found the reason simply was you could hardly see them! They were set halfway down a hill, the approach of which is a steep bend. You cannot see them ahead. A parked van in the foreground completely blocked out the left-hand-side lights. The traffic lights on the right were set at a level where they appear against a background of lights from houses and street lights. The only road markings of the junction were the thinnest of white lines and a white right-hand turn arrow. These though are set in a further dip in the road so as they are not visible until you are virtually upon them, travelling at 30mph. I even got a camcorder and filmed the approach. I interviewed the neighbours who told me that accidents were regularity. Some of them had been pretty serious with quite a few fatalities The advice of every solicitor though was to plead guilty. The law didn't allow the junction to be wrong…. "Unless you are someone with money" he joked. Knowing the camera never lies, I still took the video to court. I pleaded the necessary guilty, but asked that they watch the 2 minute video on my camcorder as my mitigating circumstances, that I could even link it up to the TV screen in the court quite easily. They declined this but had a quick look at some photographs, even pointing out that the traffic lights were visible if you looked carefully enough. I mentioned that the point of the video shows you that you have to do this at 30mph, and the exercise gets a little more difficult. RESULT: DRIVING WITHOUT DUE CARE & ATTENTION. 3 POINTS (NOW 6) AND £30 FINE.
3. IT IS DIFFICULT TO BELIEVE YOU ARE NOT BEING VICTIMISED WHEN YOU ARE PULLED FOR SPEEDING BY A RADAR GUN, APPARENTLY GOING 42MPH IN A 30MPH AREA. TO FIND AS YOU ARE BEING "PULLED OVER" THAT THERE ARE TWELVE OFFICERS AT A SCENE (I was caught coming down a steep hill where the speed limit changes just before you go down a steep incline. They had apparently taken the reading just as I had started coming down the brow of hill. They told me that they were stopping and booking everyone caught speeding over 40mph and warning the rest. They strangely disappeared after booking me, on a regular route that I always took at that time to pick some children up from school) RESULT:3 POINTS FOR SPEEDING. NOW 9 POINTS.
4. I was pulled at Batheaston roundabout at 11:45pm because a rear brake light was out. In inspecting the vehicle the officer noticed that the number plate was broken. I pointed out the MOT was nearly up and I was thinking of scrapping the car if it failed too miserably. He was returning to his patrol car, but as an after thought asked me to produce my documents in 7 days. I pleaded with him that I'd only just moved house, to find the documents amongst the boxes of stuff I had would be a complete nightmare. He still issued the producer. This didn't worry me until I couldn't find my Insurance Document. I rang the company for a replacement, to find out it had run out three months previously. And then I realised what had happened. It had run out in April, but at the same time I had been asked to stay on a further 3 months in my job driving kids to school on return for free accommodation. I was insured to drive my landlady's vehicle and had limited use of it. I decided not to get re-insured until I was leaving in July. In moving house in July, the place I was going to move to fell through on the day I was supposed to move in. I was given 24 hours to find a new place. The stress of finding a place and moving, then trying to sort out my things from a hasty move, the Insurance simply got forgotten and my mail wasn't immediately forwarded, which included the reminders. I took to court my insurance documents, for the last 17 years, to show I was consistently insured. That this was a simple lapse of memory due to extreme circumstances and in finding I was un-insured had immediately started up a fresh policy. RESULT: 6 POINTS (NOW 15) AND A £100 FINE. (Despite it being revealed in court that I have debts of £14,000, have been forced onto benefits due to my busking ban, from which I already have two Crisis Loans being deducted from it and had made two suicide attempts three years ago due to the stress of the debt. I was though not banned from driving as the Duty Solicitor pointed out I would suffer exceptional hardship and would not help me gain employment.)

The police of course had the option not to pursue the case to court if the facts show that the person has genuinely tried not to commit the offence and is more victim of circumstance.

Or is someone that they try to protect, as they are an "Established important member of the community." Such as fellow Policeman, Traffic Wardens, Magistrates, Judges, friends, pregnant woman, woman that offer favours in return for non prosecution… the list is somewhat endless. In fact sometimes it seems that I'm the only one ever to have been actually prosecuted. Because whenever I've voiced my stories of how I've been victimised, I've heard stories of how others got away with far worse. Through, lying, pulling in favours and even offering favours.

So, Is there any reason for the police to victimise me and force 15 points on my licence in 3 years, after no points for 15 years?

Maybe the connection could be a front page story I had in the press 5 years ago, when my car was towed away from outside a hospital. With a big note in the windscreen informing any Traffic Warden, police or concerned member of the public of my whereabouts should it be causing any problem.

Sitting amongst 20 other illegally parked cars on the same single-yellow line. Whose drivers hadn't left a message to say they could be contacted in the Intensive Care Waiting Room. Who weren't nervously waiting to see if their girlfriend would come round from the coma she was in following a road accident, with the stress of meeting her family for the first time, in not the best of situations.

Yet a Traffic Warden chose to issue no other cars a ticket, but to have mine towed away. It had been there for 20 minutes. In fact she insisted it be towed away despite the protestations of the tow-away driver who wanted to check with the hospital across the road first. Because he felt if the note was true, and not just a scam note like the warden believed, that in fact the driver of the vehicle might have serious problems to handle already. She said she would have him arrested if he didn't immediately tow away the vehicle.

Even the Manager at the Tow Away Centre was livid. When I arrived to pick my car up as began to tell him my story he told me he knew who I was and that he was dreadfully sorry for what had happened. He already knew the whole story and was disgusted at what had happened. That he had even tried to intervene when the driver reported on his radio the note on the car he was being asked to remove. He asked the warden over the radio to get advice from her HQ before forcing the vehicle to be removed. She claimed she couldn't, claiming her radio link to HQ was down He said his own report was half way finished already, that if I didn't get my sister didn't get her money back… he'd eat his hat. He was incensed as I was. To quote him, "That warden is a complete power-mad cow."

Initially they said they would give an instant refund of the £90 tow-away fee, which my sister paid when they enquired if she had a credit card? That way they could cancel it on the Monday without the money ever leaving her account. On ringing them on the Monday they instead asked me to write in with my complaint.

On receiving my letter they replied saying they had considered my written appeal but "Found Against Me." But if I won the case in court, they would refund the £90.

I didn't pay the parking ticket, I took the matter to court. I admitted that I was on the yellow line also but the circumstances of why it was there. Including I'd only been in the city for a few months, had not even initially known where the hospital was. The magistrates agreed the sign posting for the hospital car park wasn't very efficient. In fact a nurse later told me that in a way it is a deliberate ploy, as they wanted to discourage use as it was only a small car park. (It has since been greatly enlarged.)

They accepted my "Guilty" plea, but decided that because of the circumstances the fine was waived. Instead my punishment was a six-month moratorium on any parking offence that if I were caught illegally parked again, I would have to pay two fines.

This was fine, I thought. It was the first parking ticket I'd ever received in 15 years of driving and parking, including over 1,000 kids shows, many of them in the busy streets of London and Bristol.

I gleefully sent the decision of the Magistrates to Bristol City Council, who had pocketed the £90 tow-away fee. They replied with a letter stating that "They felt that the Magistrates had taken into consideration the £90 tow away fee already paid in concluding their verdict. Therefore they were not going to refund it."

That, they claim, is justice. I'd played by the rules, I always do. But find Authorities twist and abuse them at will. On one hand Bristol City Council had delayed my benefits cheques by months and then underhandedly pocketing £90 after towing my car away from outside a hospital.

I decided it was time to go to the press with the story. Despite the annoyance I'd felt earlier, the advice I'd received was that going public with my story would invalidate my legal case. But the legal case was a farce. The local paper ran the story on the front pages. They had also asked the police to comment. They did. They said they had removed the vehicle as it had been there for 3 days. In fact it had been there for just 20 minutes.

It had though been parked further up the same stretch of road on the same yellow line the previous day for four hours illegally, when I'd rushed in after initially hearing about my girlfriend's accident and that she had been critically wounded. The second time I'd parked there illegally was because I was desperate to know her condition, having gone home to get some sleep and make some sandwiches for her family.

On finding she was still unconscious, but alive, I went back to move my vehicle to a legal place. I expected to be at the hospital the rest of the day at her bedside. Instead I found my car had gone. In fact it was the hospital that advised me that they had just seen a black car being towed away, when I came back frantic that it had gone missing.

When I phoned the traffic controller and asked what the hell was going on, he asked me why I'd parked there in the first place? I explained the exact circumstances of my girlfriends accident and it's results.

His reply?

"Well, as it's your second time that you parked there, and the accident had happened the afternoon before, I hardly consider that emergency "Life or Death" parking."

I could hardly believe his choice of words as my girlfriend drifted in and out of a coma. With swellings in her head getting bigger, threatening first brain damage and possibly even death if they couldn't stop the swelling. We'd been told to prepare ourselves for the worst, at one stage she was given only a 40% chance of survival.

While my girlfriend was possibly dying, I had to get my car back. The Controller again repeated that he didn't feel it warranted "Life or Death" parking, and that it went up £50 a day for every day it was in the car-pound. That all fees had to be paid before it was released. Not only had I spent my last £70 on the car, I had 2 kids shows the following day which financially I still needed to do. Despite the enormous emotional strain I was under. Made only worse by this Tow Away. These were the only bookings and income I knew I had coming in over the next fortnight and critical for my own survival.

The local paper made the story front page news because it was a disgusting abuse of authority.

The response from the Police an apology?

No, they re-opened a case against me that had been previously dropped as the evidence pointed to that I had told the officer the complete truth in why I had accidentally got the wrong tax disk in the wrong car. It was a long story, but was the truth. And the Magistrates agreed it was the truth and threw the case out, awarding me £100 damages.

The magistrates in this case were made aware by the Barrister who represented me told them of the victimisation it appeared I was receiving from the police, possibly because of the story that rightfully was printed showing an earlier abuse. Also mentioning the fact that Traffic Wardens were even coming into the off-the road quiet cul-de-sac where I lived, since the story, and placing tax warning stickers on the two cars I had, despite both having a month of tax to run.

The reason a Barrister represented me was that the firm of Solicitors who I went to, were themselves completely disgusted by the Polices action. They provided the Barrister gratis for the Magistrates Court hearing and even managed to wrangle me Legal Aid by applying to have it heard in the Crown Court, then getting it changed back to the Magistrates Court.

What was required was an apology, not further victimisation. The Police rarely apologise, though they are beginning to accept they sometimes have cause to. This Law firm couldn't get me an apology, but were determined to at least get me damages. And send a message to the Police that my Victimisation was being watched.

In defending the case, I discussed it with friends. Their opinion was virtually the same. You may win this one, but they'll want you more then ever now. They'll get their money back in time… and watch your licence. They'll want that now too. You've got to be careful who you rub up the wrong way, especially if it's the police. They have their reputation to defend. They don't like being on the front page of newspapers for towing cars away from hospitals. They don't like being found against in court and paying damages.

Many friends tried to persuade me not to follow the action through. Their opinion was that in the long run I'd only be "Looking For Trouble." My point was, if the Police and Traffic Wardens didn't like being exposed, then why even do these things in the first place? Where was the common sense? Where was the compassion. I'd rather these individuals within the force be taught a valuable lesson.

Since then, I have 15 points placed on my licence, as detailed above.

In that time I have also passed the 2,000 shows mark. That's an awful lot of people who have seen me perform my show. I have received many, many letters of thank-you and many parents who have bought the video I've made of the show. I've received far more verbal Thank-you's and positive comments. Comments that I always value as much as the money earned.

I have only ever received four letters of complaint about my show. Two of these were from Mrs Fucello and Mrs Price, who booked the show then cancelled their cheques. By co-incidence they were close friends and near neighbours. But by co-incidence had booked me two days running with the same set of kids. Then complained about me and my show. First to me, then to Trading Standards.

Co-incidentally, Mrs Price had sent her second letter to me by recorded delivery, despite my reply asking both of them to send any further reply via my Solicitor and gave them his address. I'd seen this Solicitor about this matter because something didn't quite add up and I was suspicious. The recorded delivery gave the name of the sender as JC PHILIPS.

I remembered that name. That was the name of a Traffic Warden who placed a ticket on my car after ten minutes on a Yellow Line in Kingswood, shortly after I'd been awarded costs and damages from the court case.

A MIDLAND BANK Autobank machine that had eaten my card had delayed me. I was desperately trying to get the bank to give me the final £10 left in my account for petrol to drive to do a kids show where I would earn £60. They were unable to do so as my account was still in London and said it was impossible to transfer it to Bristol. There would be a £10 charge to ring them which would wipe out the £10 I had and needed. This despite that the only fact I couldn't get it was because their machine had swallowed my card for no reason whatsoever.. I had wanted to transfer to Bristol, but they wouldn't let me! They advised they were unable to rescue my card from the machine until the Monday morning. It was tough luck, I'd have to borrow the money off a friend. Thanks MIDLAND BANK.

My money had gone paying my sister back the £90 I owed her for the tow-away which wasn't refunded and getting a £60 back-dated tax disk for my new £70 car.

I came back to find a ticket on my car and screamed at the injustice of it all. If I appealed, and explained why my wait on the single Yellow Line was the unexpected, unwanted and unsuccessful trip to the Cashpoint, they might find against me and also award the fine they'd suspended. My only way out was to pay the ticket off quickly. Though I made a note of the Wardens name. Miss JC PHILIPS.

Coincidence? Or witch-hunt?

I have only ever walked out of 2 shows. Not because of the children, but the adults making it impossible to perform my show. One of these was when one of the adults who'd booked me to come to her home, kept shouting out "Get on with the magic" and was encouraging the kids to do the same. While I was doing the important initial show start where I gain control of the audience and gain the kids trust. This lady also refused to sit behind the children. She insisted in sitting amongst the children, despite me requesting she sit behind the children. This lady, Julie Dixon, had already told me on booking me, that she was a Special Constable. This didn't particularly worry me. I had even done a show at Southmead Police Station since the tow-away incident, to show I bore no grudge.

I asked her to stop, she refused, so I asked to have a word with her in the kitchen. She used the opportunity to tell me she was very un-impressed with the first 20 minutes of the show. That she'd decided that she'd rather it finished there and then, and she would pay me £20 for my trouble. I had driven in the pouring rain from Wick to Lawrence Weston. It had taken over an hour and when I'd go there, even the directions she had given me to her house were incorrect.

Instead of accepting her £20 I told her it looked like a set up, apologised to the children that I had to leave early and left. I went straight to Southmead Police Station to report her conduct. I also decided to move out of Bristol to Bath. I simply had no faith left in their Authorities, from the Council to the Police.

My troubles though travelled with me. Not surprisingly. Bath is still covered by the same area Avon & Somerset Constabulary.

Happy Graham memories and tales, How Grod was the first solo motorcyclist over the Humber Bridge, The Karoke Light Fight, music and musicians that inspired me, How Grod made an appearance in a Michael Jackson Video filmed at "Madam Tussards", Cyprus Nightlife, Illusions of Travellers Cheques and other strange holidays memories! Depressions, Motivations & Suicide. Laughter, Love & Harmonisation. And how the Midland Bank advised me during my various crises.

One band I was in at college was stuck for a name to call ourselves. A meeting to resolve the issue was called at the pub down the road from the "BANDSTAND" studios in Colindale London. Far from suggestions rolling in, no-one could come up with anything! So we became "No Names Mentioned."

In that vogue I decided early on that this CD would have "No names mentioned." Except:

1) The lady who's name became public when she testified against me and caused my ban.

2. The Environmental Health Officer whose subjective opinion effected the ban on me.
3. Those who have sincerely helped and deliberately hindered. They deserve my praise and scorn.

One reason this CD is all of my own songs, is that I did not want to "Look for Trouble" by infringing any copyrights. I do have a Business Studies degree and realise that some people earn their income from their copyrights. And some have record companies with hungry lawyers just waiting to catch the ones who didn`t buy a licence to use the material.

This also applies to the replication of commercial software, including, quite rightly, shareware.

In making this CD, again I have tried not to infringe copyright. However, the "Slide Shows" on the CD did require the loading of the MGI PHOTOSUITE program onto the CD. Due to lack of space on the CD, I had to remove unnecessary folders. I just wanted the "engine" of the program to present my slideshow. Because I think it is an excellent tool and preferred it to Microsoft's "PowerPoint" program.

If I`d used "PowerPoint", I wouldn't have needed to include the program. I'd have assumed most of the computer users would have had it. It is a program I have also used and liked.

However, my preference was to use MGI, but in doing so, and briefly scanning 40% of it realise I possibly breaching their copyright? I hope not, but in case I am, can I please state this.

Thankyou MGI, I really like your program. It came with the "Easy CD Creator Deluxe" software that I paid £80 for. From what I understand, it was a demo version. One of the restrictions was that you could only save one Photo Album. I couldn`t afford to buy the full version, but soon worked out that if you made a copy of the saved photo album file, you could then delete the images in the photo album and start again. Saving each completed Photo Album, as they were finished.

Your program allows two slide shows that make up an important part of the CD. In loading the program onto the CD, I didn`t know what my best option was? Whether to draw the users attention that they could have fun using your demo, and "making" space to put the whole demo on. (Though there is hardly any space left, I`d have to lose something's I really don`t want to lose.) Thus, they could try your demo, like it as much as I do, but unlike me, go out and buy it, and even pay for the copyright to use it in a similar way to me. This of course would have given you customers that you might never had got. But, run the risk of you saying "Hey! You don`t have any right to distribute our program you cheeky sod."

So, eventually I plumped for option 2 and copied just what I needed to make my own slide shows work on my CD, and hid the file folder. So, if anyone did find it, even if they used it, some of it wouldn`t work, but what did might be enough to persuade them to buy your full program. Which is my recommendation to anyone other then someone representing MGI who has read this far.

So, I think you can see the approach I'm taking. If anyone from MGI PHOTOSUITE who sees this, please email me to either give me the goodwill I am seeking (Which I will promote if you wish on further versions or burning of these CD's.) or let me know if you'd prefer me to replace the slide shows with "PowerPoint"

NOTE: SINCE WRITING THIS I HAVE DECIDED TO INCLUDE THE ENTIRE PROGRAM FROM THE SETUP. I INCLUDE THE ABOVE SO YOU KNOW MY THOUGHTS.

My other, but less of a worry, is the other Programs I have used. Which includes a free MPEG compression program I found on "The NET", but remember hearing years ago that the MPEG Compression Group were delaying releasing versions of their software until they had got the correct copyrights in place. I may have dreamt this, but I`m sure I heard it somewhere.

 Even then, I can`t see how I might have broken any copyright, as the material is mine, and the program is a free MPEG compiler I downloaded from the "tucows" site. But, I suppose copyright only comes into place if someone is using the program (Or the idea) commercially. And yes, I am trying to raise money from this CD. I desperately need to.

Others include Adaptec "Easy CD Create Deluxe". A program that I soon renamed "Impossibly CD Create Destruct". Finally one day the CD was thrown across the room and I`ve never seen it since. Fortunately I did have another bundled version when I replaced my faulty Yamaha CD Writer with a Phillips CD Writer. Eventually Adaptec sent a free replacement. Finally I discovered the fault in their program and managed to get round it. And when it works, it is actually a very well designed program.

A special note for today, two years after Trouble died. I really hoped the CD would be out today, but alas no. In fact my girlfriend decided that she really needed her space back. So despite not having slept for 36 hours, performed for the HTV News television cameras miming to my tape in my clowns outfit to launch my "Looking For Trouble" campaign, I quickly flung my things into my car and came back home to Batheaston. Devastated that not only had things further been delayed but also I really wanted her to be there when I finished it.

I was sure it would have been finished today. There was certainly enough time to do it. But Bailcroft Motors who said they would move my car off the road on Saturday still hadn't shown up. He promised me within an hour at 2:30pm. I waited until 5:30pm, he was just going to drop something off. He never came. Though the police did to stick a notice on it that it had to be moved in seven days. Or they would pick it up and destroy it, and charge £200 for the privilege.

I really hope the local TV station would show the report they filmed on Saturday. Today, two years after Trouble died, would have been a fitting tribute, as it would be at least the day the CD was finished if not released.

But oh no. today was not going to be that glorious day. Neither was Saturday when my dream came true and the cameras came to film my protest. Firstly my girlfriend announced in the morning that surely there was enough time, just, for her to collect her bike from my garage at home in Batheaston. She could take the bus and ride it back.

It had been in my garage several months. I'd offered to bring it back in my car on several occasions. I'd even offered to ride it over. She had been there several times but resisted the opportunity to ride home and took the bus instead. But on the day I had been working towards for seven months, it suddenly became all-important. Despite my plea the evening before that I was likely to be quite stressed up the following day and would appreciate her utmost support. I didn't even give a reply to her suggestion and eventually she decided to not to go. But I guess the pressure was getting to her too.

But nothing was destined to go right that day. Even during the filming I successfully gained a crowd but the amp failed to work from the battery. This meant I couldn't mime to the tape, which was the funny protest the cameras had rolled up to film. In the time spent in getting it working I lost the audience I'd gathered. I'd been the one who had suggested I set the amp up before we had started filming but was told time was running out and to just get on with it, or no story.

While trying to fix it, a girl I'd never seen before in my life came up and started talking to the camera, and to me. That I was loud and obnoxious and deserved to be banned, especially when I was in the process of setting up an amp and was about to start blasting out a busker who was already there, pointing to Pete the Whistler who I knew. She said she was a fellow busker.

I angrily pointed out that in fact I had been there first, that entitled me to an hour and that it was Pete who was actually playing over me. The only reason I'd stopped during my act was because the amp wasn't working. That maybe she should check her facts and put her brain in gear before spouting her crap.

We looked at each other and I introduced myself and explained what I was trying to do, and suddenly she became rather apologetic. The camera team were pleased though, they had got her comments on tape, but stopped filming when she found the truth and started apologising. Still, I might have found the sax player I'm looking for!

And so instead of celebrating my TV success with my lover and falling asleep in her arms, she woke me up at 9pm, collapsing 2 hours previously from sheer exhaustion, and asked if I would mind going home as I'd promised the night before? She knew it wasn't too good for me, but she needed some space.

As I packed my car I rued that everything for I've ranted about on this CD, that it was still happening big time. My big day was a day of misery and felt heavily let down by someone I'd relied on supporting me through the day. And what was worse, it was my own girlfriend this time.

I really did expect to finish the CD today though, 2 years after my dogs death. But still the troubles come, even at the death. At 9.45pm I found my printer, for no good reason, is failing to recognise the new Photo Cartridge I bought last week. The black one it failed to recognise has been replaced and now works fine. But now the more important Photo Cartridge is not working. So I can't print the CD cover or the sleeve even if I'd got the CD burned.

I decided I would at least get the CD burned by 12pm. I would make sure that happened. At 10pm my landlord rang and asked to speak to me. He wanted to know when he's going to see any of the rent? That he's filled the Housing Benefit forms in, but to be honest he's very unhappy about it.

It took a while for me to assure him I'm doing everything I can to get it processed. And get my CD finished so I can start selling it. He asked me to take his name out of the "Thankyou" section, as I'd mentioned in my letter that I paid him a tribute on the CD. It was of course meant to be a nice tribute for his patience in this time of crisis, caused by Bath City Council. I wanted to be performing. Not drawing benefits.

Not all my landlords have been bad. My current one is having his patience tested with the effects on my income of my ban. That he really didn't want the benefits people preying into his affairs. Nobody does, because we all know what they're like. Most of my landlords get a mention in my thank you pile on this CD. But special thanks to Anil and Marcus. Marcus gave me at least the opportunity to go forward when I was in dire straits, and took a risk because he believed I might be able to pull it off. He allowed me to move into the house he was renting, while I was unemployed and had a five year old dog. I had persuded him I could sub-let the house and not only pay the rent, but make a small profit. The other peoples rent would pay mine own, and I could get off benefits and concentrate on getting my kids entertainment set up in Bristol, and move on towards greater success in other areas. I'm still trying Marcus, and I feel I'm almost there with this CD. But a special note for you in case you ever read this. If not, let readers now I praise as well as criticise

THANKYOU MARCUS. YOU WERE BRILLIANT. I WAS DISAPPOINTED IT ALL WENT A BIT SOUR AT THE END, BECAUSE YOU REALLY HELPED ME AT SOME DIFFICULT TIMES. THE DAY I LEFT I NOTICED A COUPLE OF UNWASHED CUPS AND GLASSES. MY FRIENDS HELPING ME TO MOVE TOLD ME TO LEAVE THEM, THAT WE WERE WELL BEHIND SCHEDULE ALREADY. I REFUSED. IF I COULDN'T PAY YOU THE OUTSTANDING RENT JUST THEN I WANTED TO AT LEAST LEAVE THE HOUSE IN A GOOD TIDY STATE. I INSISTED ON CLEANING THEM AND STARTED RUNNING HOT WATER INTO THE SINK. ONE OF MY FRIENDS ANGRILY THREW ONE OF THE GLASSES INTO THE SINK. IT UNFORTUNATELY HIT THE MUG I WAS PUTTING IN TO WASH AND SMASHED, SEVERING MY RIGHT FOREFINGER. THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE FOR A GUITAR PLAYER. AS MY FRIENDS DROVE OFF TO YORKSHIRE WITHOUT ME, I SAT IN CASUALTY FOR FOUR HOURS WAITING TO HAVE EIGHT STITCHES PUT IN. IT TOOK MONTHS TO HEAL AND I'VE GOT THE SCARS TO PROVE IT! SO IF YOU WANTED SOMETHING BAD TO HAPPEN, IT DID. AND ONCE AGAIN, I WAS THE INNOCENT VICTIM. TRYING TO DO GOOD AND SHOW MY APPRECIATION, AS I HAD NOTHING ELSE AT THAT STAGE TO GIVE. MY BEST WISHES TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY, I HOPE ONE DAY I GET TO BUY YOU THAT DINNER.

The fact that it is actually now 5;13am on March 30^th tells really the end of this sorry tale. That maybe my trouble will always be with me. Choose to be a joker for a living and your life becomes one big joke. Even my menu bar has moved from the bottom of the screen to the right hand side and won't move. For no reason whatsoever. It just loaded up that way earlier on today and won't change whatever I do.

It won't be the first early morning hour I've gone to bed totally dejected while making this CD. Because everything has gone wrong for reasons I'd predicted if someone didn't do as I asked, and was the best all-round option at time. For instance I went for a quiet walk in Bath Royal Victoria Park on Saturday evening, just get five minutes of peace alone. To find a big fun fair there, extremely noisy, extremely bright and colourful. And it was 10pm. Should be banned!

I hurried back to take my girlfriend to it to surprise her. I told her I had a surprise, but she had to come now. That it didn't actually cost to look, but to be fair, it would be more fun if she brought some money.

Instead of quickly getting her coat on, she entered into a speech of how she hardly had any money and so how could she expect to have any fun spending money she desperately needed for other things? I reminded her of my exact words. She asked me to give her a clue on what I was up to? I told her I already had done. She said when? I repeated my words

She still couldn't guess and eventually she came under duress. I pointed out to her several times that I wasn't looking for an argument, the reason I was making the suggestion was I thought she would enjoy it. But by wasting my time questioning my judgement, she might ruin the surprise.

Guess what, by the time we'd got there an hour later it had packed up for the night. "Aw," she groaned "I would have enjoyed that."

I would have too. Bath is beautiful at night. The view from the big wheel would have been amazing. It would have been a wonderfully romantic thing to do. Had I not been banned I wouldn't have even suggested she'd brought money.

But instead, shattered dreams. All because she didn't listen and trust what I was saying, despite all the pointers that they would benefit from it. What hurt was it was the girl who for seven months who knows I have been preparing a CD all about mis-judgement, lack of trust etc. And how it affects me and my anger, my depression, my happiness, my frustration. We could just have taken a nice free stroll admiring the rides, maybe to go for on some another night. But now it was all switched off and scary.

Instead we decided to sit on a bench at the part and have a cuddle. Within two minutes a police car was slowly driving past us for the second time so I thought we'd better just go home. Thoroughly, thoroughly, pissed off. I asked her to please, please give me her undying attention and support the following day when I faced the cameras for my campaign for the first time. But getting her bike back became a surprise and apparently essential issue. The real question I had was, why is she choosing to suggest it? After everything I'd asked and after all the problems similar action the night before had caused?

But sadly I remember seeing it all before from other girlfriends, family, friends and work colleagues.

I have contacted her since moving back into my place. To report my latest woes and problems that came up. Forcing me to abandon all hope of finishing it today. The day of all days I really wanted to finish it. Trouble's 2^nd Anniversary of her sad death.

When I told her that the printer had suddenly decided to not recognise the new Photo Cartridge, she laughed. I told her again that while it was funny, that I had to live with it. It was virtually impossible for so much to go so wrong for the same person at the same time. Except in a tragic comedy. I was meant to be writing those, not actually living it.

It's now 5:45am and no doubt the garage will be round at the crack of dawn to help me move the car.

So as much as I wanted to finish it today, sorry Trouble. But it's your entire fault, (Indirectly of course, trouble just seems to want to stay close by me still.)

Maybe it'll be finished tomorrow. But more likely something else will go disastrously wrong.

But the following day, it'll probably run like a dream and be finished without a hitch. It would do on April Fools Day wouldn't it? Then maybe the release date could be Easter Saturday. Which I suppose will always be the same other anniversary of your death. I'm still trying for you Trouble.

 One quick more story which I didn't know where to include. But it happened a couple of months after my court case about the tow-away from outside the hospital, and the story having appeared in the press, that I was being denied my refund, unfairly.

I was once so short on my rent I had to take drastic action. I had to sell something big. It was either my computer or my video camera. Both were essential to my business.

It broke my heart but I HAD to keep the computer on which I took the bookings and had all my business information. The video camera went up for sale for £375 in the local "Trade-IT" paper.

This guy and his mate came round after phoning to enquire about it. Apparently he was buying his girlfriend a 21^st birthday present. He looked a bit shady but I don't judge people purely by their appearance. You never know where someone has just had to come from.

I showed him it working by making recording a bit of the room and him and his friend, who talked to the camera. I played it back on my telly to show it was in good working order. He offered £350 cash.

It was a good enough offer, that paid the rent. I held each note to the light, apologising that I had to do it, but you never know! He assured me the reason he was ten minutes late was that he'd stopped to take them out of the cashpoint.

They had the necessary silver strip, appeared to have a water mark and felt right. I said Thankyou, wrote a receipt and he thanked me and left.

The following day I put the money in the bank so I could write the necessary cheque to my landlord. He was beginning to loose patience with me because the rent was two months overdue. This because a friend of my then girlfriend (Who was still recovering from her car crash.) refused to give the deposit he kept saying he'd pay. When I asked him to leave he ran off with the other tenant, who was also temping for me so I could stay longer at the hospital with my girlfriend and keep my Childrens' Entertainment business going. To get his own back he told my girlfriend that I'd had an affair with this live-in temp. Not true, in fact she was now his girlfriend. But she believed him, as he had been a friend for years. She finished the relationship immediately despite my protestations of innocence and her friends shunned me, disgusted that I could have an affair while she was in hospital. At Christmas time I got a phone call out of the blue from her. To say she'd since found out the truth and wanted to apologise, but she was now back with her former boyfriend, whom she later married. With these two tenants suddenly disappearing, without paying their rent of course, this left me with two months rent to pay for the whole house, over £700, when I'd budgeted to be paying nothing. This while I was still sorting out the tow-away, the tax disk trial in London, my girlfriend injured in hospital and me still going out being "Happy Graham." It was hard.

The girl behind the counter at the bank then gave me one of the shocks of my life. They were all forged £50 notes. She asked me if I could remember where I had obtained them?

I remembered instantly where they had come from. She asked me if I would be able to give a description to the police? I said I could do better then that. Because there had been two kids shows on the tape I used to test the camera for them, I had refused to give it to them.

I had wondered why they were so desperate to have it. I explained I couldn't, simply because of client confidentiality. He even offered to tape transfer it to VHS for me. That it was 9:30pm at night and he wouldn't be able to buy a tape. I looked for a spare but I simply didn't have one. I suggested he contact a mate he knew who had a video camera, they might have one. He offered £20 for it but I refused.

I refused because I respected my clients privacy. Some would have thought bugger it I'll have the £20, he won't know who they are. They'll never find out. But I didn't on principle. Because that is the me I know. More often then not, being polite and honest gives you opportunities others are fighting to get. When they get it, it's only because they grabbed it, bought it or stole it. And then they don't look after it. Not all people, but certainly some people I've met in my varied life. I have been to a lot of different homes during my shows, and entertained every type of child and that includes the dying.

I took the tape to Kingswood police station. This despite our recent spat over the tow-away. I also had a vested interest of getting my camera back. The officer on the desk didn't want to look at it. What was the point? It's just two faces on the camera and millions of people in Bristol being his explination. It took me about fifteen minutes of persuasion for him to have a look at it, pointing out that knowing what the robber looks like might help. That he may even recognise them.

Reluctantly he watched the first 30 seconds and said, no, he didn't recognise them. Please could I take the tape home now, he was busy?

I pointed out that he might want to show the tape to his colleagues? That one of them might recognise them? He pointed out that everyone was a bit to busy to come to the cinema!

I gave him the tape and asked him to pass it on to anyone who might be interested in solving a case. Of course I had done the tapes for my clients and sent them. Which was going to prove itself a good move.

I phoned after two days but nothing had been heard. When I asked if anyone had seen my tape they said "What tape?" As I explained they "Seemed to remember something being mentioned, but wasn't aware that anyone was meant to be watching it. Why? What was on it?"

Does anyone else know what sheer frustration is? This is our country's Police Force.

Two weeks later I got a call. They thought they might have got them.

I knew the tape would help. I asked how they'd caught them?

Apparently it wasn't the tape, he didn't know anything about a tape. What had happened is these guys had been going up a stretch of road, stopping at every garage and trying to use their forged notes. When suspicious they were being sussed they ran out and onto the next garage. They'd robbed four garages successfully, but three had spotted them and phoned the police. Then one of the others rang when they found what they had been given were fake £50's.

A squad car drove to the next garage up the road and caught them red-handed when they turned and tried the same stunt! But the Police said they needed me as a witness and would I please come to an identity parade?

I wasn't keen on the idea. If the police had caught them red-handed, why did they need me? But I felt it was my duty to help uphold law and order. I wouldn't have done it to anyone else, so it was their own fault. They were stealing from the poor.

Some of the garages sent their cashiers to the station as well for the Identification Parade. They weren't too happy either, but we were assured it was one way glass.

I had the benefit of sitting down an hour beforehand in the morning watching my copy of the video of them when I'd tested the camera. Just in case anything happened to the one I'd given to the Police. I was the only one to correctly identify them both. But the three of the others also identified the main guy.

The police informed me they would now very much like to use me as a witness, and two of the cashiers. Could we please wait in the foyer and he'd discuss it with us. We stood and waited.

As we waited, they opened the door of the room where the suspects had been sitting behind the one way glass. To our amazement they brought out the two villains and brought them into the foyer. Then returned to direct the volunteers through the back entrance out. He then started talking to another Policeman.

Neither looking the direction of the foyer. Where we stood a few feet away from the two we'd just "Grassed up." With the only policemen way down the corridor chatting to each other and looking the other way. Chatting to the volunteers as they came out.

They then turned and realised and quickly hurried them both away. When the policeman came back we all felt we should say something. I thanked them for the one way glass. That was a good idea. But what was the idea of them bringing them out to say a quick hello to those who have just grassed you up?

The Policeman apologised but they had to follow certain procedures, that it was only a small station and was currently very busy. That they wouldn't start any trouble at the Police Station would they?

I said no they wouldn't. They'd probably start it outside or sometime in the future after being let off with a fine. Now they knew exactly who had shopped them. While the others could all leave the garages employment, I still had to live in the same home which they both knew where it was.

The police said they would be in contact, and a couple of weeks later they were. They told me the two were still going to plead "Not Guilty" and he'd just like me to be aware of some possible court dates.

I told him I thought they must be completely mad to plead not guilty as I'd actually filmed them with video camera they then paid for with forgeries and kept the tape.

"Did you?" he exclaimed all excited. "You don't still happen to have it do you?"

I replied I hadn't but if he tried Kingswood Police station they might just find I handed it in on reporting the crime, asking them to circulate it.

He said he would try and locate it. He rang back later on to say that no-one seemed to remember it, but a couple were away on holiday. Then rang to say he hadn't got it, but he was pretty sure he knew which locker it was in. I pointed out that I would like it returned after it had served it's purpose. That it had 2 kids shows on it and while it was in the hands of the police, it's rightful place was with me.

The day before the trial they rang up. Good news, they'd changed their plea once they had known there was going to be video evidence against them. Instead a trial had been set for their sentencing.

The following day I got a call. That I would be pleased to know that the guy who was issuing the forgeries got two years, his accomplice six months suspended.

I asked what happens now? How do I get the money back on my video camera?

"Were you not told to put a compensation order in?" he asked. "No?" was my honest answer.

He explained "Well the garages were insured so didn't bother, but what normally happens is that during sentencing, victims of the crime are allowed to ask for compensation. When convicted the compensations they are ordered to pay are set at the same time. It's too late for that I'm afraid now. You could try taking out a private prosecution, but I can tell you now they don't have any money and the one you'd be prosecuting won't see light of day for a while. You'll probably have to put this one down to experience and next time get it insured."

I asked about the tape.

"To be quite honest, I don't know where it is right now. It wasn't in that locker after all. It will be found and I know that they will have to keep it for a while as evidence, but I will make a note to have it returned to you when it's been through the process."

Of course I never saw it again. The following day I got a letter from landlord saying that while remaining patient, if things weren't put right in the fairly short future he would have to consider ending my tenancy. My parents sent me a post card from Cyprus, promising next time they'd try and bring me with them.

They did. But that's another story, for another CD. This CD is all about how I've not looked for Trouble to my knowledge, except when I lost my dog, but I sure found a lot.

Today I also got my first fortnightly benefits cheque. £100. Most of it's gone but the fridge is full, I've got a new ariel on my mobile and I've bought the bits and pieces I need to finish the CD off and knock off the first ten copies. And there is petrol in the car.

There are also two large dents in the car where someone this morning kicked the doors in. And I've a good idea who it was. No, it wasn't a Policeman. My hunch it was the guys in the building yard, which belongs to my landlord's brother. They own that road, they claim, and had even left a note on one of my friends cars earlier on. Stating that they would not be found responsible for any damage done to his vehicle while parked on this private road.

A few months previously they had threatened me when I'd last parked there, that they couldn't get their lorries past. This time I'd made sure I parked my car at the top of this road where it was quite a bit wider. I had to keep my driveway free as Bailcroft Motors had promised to shift my Cavalier that day.

Instead I woke up to no Cavalier in the driveway, but round the corner my Triumphs doors had been kicked in.

But when I rang to report it to the Police, I asked them to send someone up so I could also discuss the car that still hadn't been shifted. That since two policemen had helped push it off a Private Road onto the public highway, knowing at the very least it had no tax and was un-roadworthy.

Strangely no one came, despite an assurance that someone could be across in the next two hours. Maybe I shouldn't have given my name.

Monty Python fans would all smile and say "But by now, he was getting used to it."

I only wished I didn't have to. While my girlfriend, family and friends find some of my disasters funny, I remind them that even so, I have to live them, not them.

But what the hell? I get there in the end. Sometimes the fight is harder and longer, but I normally succeed. After the trials of putting this CD together, it is now finished. And guess what.

It's 6:05am on April Fools day.

Somehow I think I should have predicted that. I've already reconciled myself that as Trouble died on Easter Saturday that is when I will officially release the CD. So I've got a couple of days to get a few copies knocked off. But while April fools day lasts, I am going to have some fun miming my busking in Bath for the first time. Wish me Luck!

 Grod Groddler

Well the Easter weekend has passed and I've played the CD at the spot where Trouble lay in the garden in her last hours. I finally moved the cavalier myself, the night before the Police were coming to crush it. Bailcroft Motors never came despite several calls from me and several assurances from him. The Police never did come to follow up the incident of my Triumphs doors being kicked in. But strangely, as I was having the Cavalier pushed to my house by some friendly neighbours, the Police decided to suddenly turn up and monitor them doing so. I slept most of Easter Saturday as was still ill. On the Sunday I wearily decided to pack the Triumph and come home for Easter. Arriving Easter Sunday 11pm.

While it is now Easter Tuesday, I think I can claim that the CD was finished on the evening on Easter Monday, having again worked through the night to complete this CD.

It was Easter Monday night, that having driven up from Bristol and said my "Goodbye" to Trouble, that I looked up in the sky and saw the Hale Bop Comet for the first time. And imagined her aboard the UFO with all the ones who had committed suicide in the Heavens Gate Internet Cult.

I returned on the Easter Tuesday for a final good bye before they shipped her away. And two years latter I say good bye to this CD.

Some stories remain for my further CDs, "Suicide" and "Harmonisation". The former will tell the whole story of my start in business to my own suicide attempts via letters sent and received from my bank, The Midland Bank. How their great help at the beginning slowly weaned away, and ended with a new female Bank Manager advising me that instead of a car loan, I should use the pubic transport system, dressed as a clown, to get from one show to the other. Despite the fact that the figures showed it was cheaper and more sensible for me to travel by car. That the only reason I needed a new car was that my current one was having regular engine fires from an oil leak I couldn't afford to repair. But my busking was beginning to take off in York and I still had my kids entertainment going in London. But it went in one ear and out the other. Apparently the banks computer had made the decision for her. There was nothing she could do she claimed. I asked to speak to her Manager, who came down and backed her up. And virtually signed my death warrant. I was now at my lowest and giving up completely.

When I started busking in Bath, trying to pay off my debts legally, naturally I realised I was putting myself at personal risk by performing in the middle of a city square. That someone might also abuse the equipment I had with me, my guitar, microphone and amp. In fact, despite the odd drunk who tried to shout a funny comment down the microphone, the only other abuse came from a holy source.

I performed my busking set in the two Squares adjacent to Bath Abbey itself. It's where I performed to Prince Charles in May and were my regular spots. One early Sunday evening, I was just finishing off my set. The church service was about to start and I'd already been made aware that sometimes my songs travelled into the church.

I was told that it rather hindered the worship when someone could be heard getting the crowd singing merrily to "American Pie" outside. Since that complaint I always stopped just before the service started.

But this time I didn't have to stop. Because right in the middle of my final song, a gentleman in a dog collar and full robes marched up and yanked the cable from my amplifier. He told me that I would have to stop as he was about to be preaching. I pointed out I was stopping anyway, that all he had needed to do was ask me. He frowned at me and told me I wasn't scoring myself any brownie points.

I'd left the Scouts, having formally been a Cub many years ago. There is no truth that I was Sea Scout that left after my tent kept sinking. Neither is there any truth that I once mistakenly joined the Brownies, that was my sisters. I do lay claim though to having eaten a few, but that was in America and they were rather nice cakes.

What wasn't nice, was that the man that people were going to hear preach the word of God, was illegally abusing the property of a fellow Christian. With a belief as deep, if not deeper then his own. He didn't seem very Reverend to me. As for Right? He was way, way wrong.

This morning my mum decided to sweep around me. Telling me that I've been stupid staying up all night working on my CD. What I needed was a proper job. That who did I think would read all this anyway?

Well, you did and thankyou for doing so. And via my WEBSITES, EMAIL and PO Box you can contact me. And tell me (And my mum!) what you thought of all this rubbish.

Please note, I am here at home this Easter also to see my dad. Because despite all the trials and tribulations I feel I can directly place at some of his decisions, most of his decisions and directions in life toward me have been fair, honest and true. And I have compassion in my heart, which is why I preach it. He's the only dad I'll ever have. Right or wrong. And I'm sure I'll make a few more mistakes in my life. But right now, I'm just glad I'm alive. And that this CD, is finally finished. Now I really can go "Looking For Trouble!"

Did I say the CD was finished and I could relax after 8 months of frustrating work on this CD? Well it seems I was just "Looking For Trouble" with a statement like that! In fact the front menu didn't work right when I had burned what I thought was the first completed CD.

The problem was that some of the photos didn't show up on the "NETLINKS" page. So I tried to find the fault. After 2 days I discovered the fault. Microsoft Word 97 has a mind of it's own. In fact it is completely crap. The proof? Unable to get the pictures to transfer from the file, I decided to simply copy the picture I was using from the front menu, which I knew worked. In fact on checking the "Picture format" it confirmed it was exactly the same picture, coming from exactly the same folder.

Except for no reason whatsoever, it decided it wouldn't show the picture! Then it screwed up all the hyperlinks. Even my computer illiterate mother confirmed that I was using exactly the same process, but on saving it, the program refused to retain the new information.

Let's get one thing perfectly clear. In making the "NETLINKS" page I used exactly the same process I had used to make the main menu page. Except this time it refused to work. More frustration and more time lost of my life screaming at the computer and crap programmers. I won't let my CD go out without faults, so why are Microsoft allowed to distribute world wide a program with obvious bugs in it. And legally there is not very much you can do.

The result being that there is no way now that this CD will be released in conjunction with the death of my dog Trouble. The idea was to proudly display this CD to my parents and family who were back for Easter. Of course they've all gone home now.

Once again my despair I feel has nothing to do with me and my personal skills and commitment. Once again, other people, this time Microsoft, have frustrated me, due to their lack of commitment to quality. Once again (And I suppose I remain) the innocent victim. Frustrated, angry and desolate. Thankyou Microsoft, for nothing.

But far, far more interesting, is that when I went to burn this "Final CD", (Which didn't work) I even asked my mum to press the mouse button. To let my dear mum have the pleasure of burning the first CD after my 8 months of personal hell putting it together.

What happened was an error message came up. Yes, ANOTHER error message. But this time it left me (And my mother) completely gobsmacked. It read…..

"THE OPERATION HAS BEEN CANCELLED DUE TO A RESTRICTION IN EFFECT ON THIS COMPUTER. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR."

I had recently started my "Looking For Trouble" campaign in Bath. Firstly the Bath Chronicle refused to run the story. Then the piece that was recorded for the local TV Company "HTV" was mysteriously never shown. While the CD didn't have the final document on it, outlining the abuses to me, I handed the TV reporter a printed copy of it, which was three quarters finished. I had also handed old test copies and working versions of the Mixed-Mode CD to the Press and even to Bath Police station, when I reported the number of times I had been stopped in my car that very day.

I had mentioned in all the press reports etc. that I was making the CD at home on my computer.

It seems, somehow, that (Possibly via the Internet or email) something has been placed on my computer to stop me burning CD's on my computer. Not that the Authorities don't want you to read this CD or allow me to have the free speech I am entitled to.

Fortunately for me, I had brought the "Easy CD Create Deluxe" CD with me, and managed to get it working on my other Hard Drive. But if anyone believes all this is "made up rubbish" on this CD, I guarantee it's all true and that quite a few people are enjoying making my life a misery and don't want the truth to come out. And this is how far they will go to try and stop it. Instead they simple allow me to add one more tale of abuse.

I'm now going to try my damn hardest to get these final errors to the "NETLINKS" page sorted out and get this bloody CD out my head and onto the streets. The NETLINKS page gives you the opportunity to contact me with your opinions. As I've tried so hard to get it working, please use it.

Now it's war.

I had returned home to Yorkshire to finish over Easter, desperate to get it finished at a time related to the death of my dog Trouble 2 years ago, as the CD was my tribute to her.

But my God had laid a path I didn't know about. Events stalled things until today, to make my birthday special. The inner peace and happiness I feel on completing it is indescribable. And I will never forget what day my first CD was born. And hope it marks the re-birth of myself.

Because each birthday I have the tradition of looking retrospectively over my life. What I have learnt in the last year and the direction of my life. And how I feel on this day inside, about my past and future.

This epilogue allows me to tie up some of the mysteries mentioned earlier in my story. Many things happened on my two weeks back in Yorkshire and three days back in Bath.

Firstly I was able to visit all those places at home that I knew Trouble had spent the last two years of her life without me. Remembering that despite the circumstances of her death, we spent far more many great times together.

I had been a responsible owner despite my low income. And while I wasn't there, she spent those days in an environment she knew my spirit always will be. With the best woman I have met in my life. My mother. Trouble may have been missing me, but she did have a peaceful end to her life.

I remember discussing "Death" with my mum as a teenager. When it's implications first began to strike me. How death affects your life.

There is no chance to make peace with that person. No chance to compromise, no-one to change and change me. But that individual will always be remembered. By those who met them in their life. And when they die, as their own life flashes before their eyes, as the information is uploaded to Gods Almighty Information Data Base in the sky, what other people remember of that person, will be that persons legacy.

God will judge if that legacy is right or wrong.

Because sometimes mainly good people are remembered for the things they did wrong. While those who turned bad are remembered for what they did right. Because they are the things that turned peoples heads about that person.

For we are all human, despite our jobs and positions. We all contribute to this world. It's simply a matter of what YOU contribute to, that shapes our world. We all make mistakes. We all sin, sometimes willingly. But we are sometimes right when others believe us to be wrong.

Because they simply can't see what you see and sometimes never will. Sometimes it's strictly between you and GOD, and for us to remember that he is all-seeing with an infinite memory.

While at home I had the pleasure of watching a video of the birth of my younger sister's first child in Australia.

As with death, this birth changed many things.

It made my sister and her husband parents for the first time.

It made my parents Grandparents for the first time.

It made my grandma, who has survived several strokes, been told "She'll never walk again." several times but is still walking, a Great Grandmother for the first time.

It made my older sister an Auntie for the first time.

And me an "Uncle" for the first time.

For the first time the responsibility hit. I had a role in this person's new life. What that relationship will be time will tell. But I can't wait to meet him. And put what I know about making kids smile to personal use.

As I'd like to do with my own kids one day. But that is for my God to decide because as yet, I remain unmarried.

But there again, when I discover that someone doesn't trust me, I begin to wonder what it is that they are trying to conceal? Because I believe my word to my bond, and trust those around me to be as honest. Trust which is most frequently returned. Though the abuses are the things I remember.

And sometimes, I find myself to be wrong.

Because despite some of my suspicions, I sometimes don't know all the facts. Facts which change everything, or at least some things.

I thought for instance my piece on my ban that I recorded for HTV NEWS mysteriously never appeared. In fact after writing as much, I rang home to check my answerphone. I found a message from the journalist who interviewed me. To say a good clip had been shown in the morning and lunchtime bulletins and they were showing the full report in the evenings edition if I wanted to video it.

She had kept her word. She phoned to tell me in advance. It was not her fault I got the message days later and never saw it. (Though I'd still like to see it!)

While at home I went to visit a garage that used to do the work on my mum's car. Dad always paid of course and in those days could easily afford to.

I asked the owner if he could help me? Could he do the welding on my Triumph for less then £200?

Instead he had a car that he'd taken in that morning, as a part exchange. With six months MOT & tax, 4 good tyres, not remoulds, a Pioneer stereo, G Reg., guaranteed reasonable bodywork and engine, which he knew as it was he who had serviced it occasionally and that I could have it for £150.

My God though has a sense of humour. He likes to add a comical twist to things. It was a Lada. The butt of my entire car jokes.

My old church group drama, Pathfinders and later the Youth CYFA leader for short while, shares my surname. Mr. Walker. A man who humbly served his church and despite his intelligence, manner and foresight was largely seen as a rebel in the church. So when people said no to him, he normally rolled up his sleeves and did it himself anyway. He gave me freedom to develop my talents and always encouraged me.

He is a man who I have suddenly turned up at his doorstep unexpectedly meant times. To be always welcomed through his door with a warm smile.

And he would listen. Sometimes offering advice, sometimes helping me to find my own solution, while the Mr. Walker that was my father, was 1,000s of miles away. Making sure his family could buy what they needed.

But I had the main thing I needed. The security of knowing my parents would never part. They were set for life. Their promise of marriage was the most important one they'd made in their life. That means more then money to a child. The problem was he wasn't there. I'd rather have had my dad around then to be able to buy better cricket pads.

I remembered that the Church group leader Mr Walker also had a job. He couldn't understand how a person could leave their family and work so far away? Money had it's place, but for him the family came first.

His job? A manager at Lada cars.

I turned up at his doorstep unexpectedly again for his advice. Not only did I buy the car, but I returned to his house with this new LADA for him to gave me a few bits he'd saved from his previous cars.

The beauty of the LADA, he told me, was that they are designed for people who travel in the wilderness. That might break down in deep in the Russian Steps or a place where no help was at hand. It was you and your knowledge. So LADA's are designed to be fixed easily with a minimum of parts and making it easy for the worker to do the work required.

It was also an investment. People are apparently paying good prices for them, shipping them back to Russia and selling them there at twice the price. Despite what the West and the Japs have invented.

I also Triumphed. I took the Triumph to another local garage in Yorkshire. He didn't know me. But I explained I was a Childrens Entertainer in debt who needed to get back on the road. I needed a few favours.

He rang today to say that all the welding had been completed, and his price was his quote of £80, despite the extra bits he'd done as he went round the car. Doing all the other minor jobs it needed to get through an MOT.

He knew the same story as Bailbrook Motors. He just acted differently. My mother's car is in for a service this Thursday. Work he didn't expect.

The first journey in my LADA was a surprise visit to my first ever girlfriend, who'd contacted me earlier in the year and I'd then met briefly again.

I found her divorce comes through next week. That her husband's clothes at her house became legally hers on the same day. I tried them on and they fitted perfectly. I walked away in a new set of clothes, with the offer to pick up the rest of the wardrobe next week.

They split up when he said he was going to work abroad. She could come or stay, that was up to her.

She said that if he went, their marriage was over. He went. And their marriage is over. His money bought a nice wardrobe of clothes I dreamt of owning.

By chance her mum called by. Again pleased to see me and me her.

The following day my mum found a card had been posted through our door by hand. It was a birthday card from the two of them. With £30 to buy a new pair of shoes. I went for a haircut after buying the shoes. I felt and looked a new man. Things were looking up.

When I drove away back to Bath, I had two stops on the way. One was to join my dad to see our team "Hull City" play a vital derby match with "Scunthorpe." He bought the best seats in the ground, despite just now limited earnings. It was the first time we'd been to a match together for over 16 years.

As it happens, Hull City had triumphed over adversity. At Xmas we were at the bottom of the league and six points adrift. It looked like a 93 year history was about to end.

Instead they sacked the Manager, a former England centre forward and the Chairman who wanted to commercialise the club.

They made one of the players the manager. And 17 games later lost only 2 games to climb to a position of safety. This manager had contact with the spirit of the club. He could motivate where more experienced on paper couldn't. Because they didn't know how to here.

So my dad and I expected to see the victory that secured league status, as did the crowd of 10,000.

When we went 3-0 down, to a dubious goal, it seemed we had come to the wrong match.

But we pulled one back with a glorious free kick 10 minutes from the end. We scrambled a second two minutes from time, and in the third minute of injury time won a corner.

As the players lined up in the area, the player manager went to take this vital corner.

Instead of concentrating on getting a good corner over, he tried to cheat. He deliberately put the ball in a good distance from the corner kicking point.

As he went to take it the ref. noticed and stopped him in mid flow. He insured the ball was taken from the correct point. The linesman came over to inspect more closely.

With the added eyes and pressure on him the result was a poor corner, and the whistle blew for full time.

My dad had missed this last five minute drama. He had gone to the toilet believing it was all over. Despite buying the best seats in the house to see the spectacle.

So we remain in slight danger of relegation, but my guess is that our celebrations have just been put on ice. And then turn things round for next year, like hopefully my life will.

I then drove to my older sister and husbands house warming party. I met again my girlfriend who I hadn't seen for 3 weeks as she'd been home to her parents in Germany.

Also there was someone who was a friend of my sister. But who also works for Bath City Council legal department. She has followed my case and read all the correspondence. In effect, for me, part of the "Enemy". But someone who I had known through my sister for years, but not known her job.

With initial caution we finally got talking, though I respected she could comment very little legally on the case. Her basic advice was to thoroughly re-read the Abatement Notice and to get proper legal advice on it's actual implications.

The following day I attended Court again. Hopefully for the last time. For three parking tickets I had refused to pay.

For the first ticket I offered to pay it, as the reason I had been overtime was because that my girlfriend had forgotten to wake me to move my car. Hardly the wardens fault when he eventually booked it. An hour after being illegally parked. It was just my anger at having arrived as he had just finished writing the ticket. I was angry at being an innocent victim.

And the same thing has happened since!

The second ticket was issued as I posed in the square for a picture. A picture for the Bath Chronicle on the initial ban story.

I had arrived twenty minutes late, and had only hoped the photographer had waited. He had. But he had to get away to another appointment. We quickly organised a shoot, shared the usual pleasantries and I returned to my car. I had been away 7 minutes. Walking away was a smirking Traffic warden. He had without doubt falsified the ticket as ten minutes observation of the vehicle had to be noted before issuing a ticket.

The Magistrates found I had no grounds for my appeal. I would have to pay the full £30 of the ticket. Which would only have been £15 if I'd paid it instantly.

The third ticket was issued when I had been parked on double Yellow lines.

Except these Yellow Lines are on a taxi rank. Where I had pulled in behind a driver who was about to leave his legal parking space. He was just waiting for his wife.

Rather then wait, I decided to at least get my amplifier onto the "Pitch" outside the Abbey to "Claim it". The pitch is run "On trust" between the buskers.

Returning to my car, an old lady had fallen trying to get into her wheel chair. The relatives were beside themselves with worry, as she appeared hurt. I rushed to help and be the calm head in the crisis. I helped get her back into her chair.

The fuss soon died down, especially as the "Victim" began to laugh at all the fuss! She'd fallen before! She was OK! She just didn't like doing it! We all laughed, and I was thanked for my help.

I returned to my car, to move it forward into the space that would now be free. I had been away for about 6 minutes due to the crisis in which I had volunteered my help.

I arrived to find the same Warden smiling and slapping a ticket on the windscreen. His female colleague was looking very annoyed.

He explained to me that while I was "Loading and Unloading", as it was double-yellow lines he was under an obligation to issue a ticket. That meant no parking at ANY time.

Except if you are a taxi. It was also a taxi rank.

I was busking for sheer survival and this gentleman's abuse of his Authority had cost me £30 before I started.

They both knew I was the busker who played regularly in the square. They knew it was my car. She liked my music and me. He didn't. She'd have left it or had a quick word with me. He decided to add me to his tally for the day.

A further day I secretly followed him. He passed several cars parked blatantly on both single and Double Yellow Lines. But these were expensive cars parked owned by important people weren't they. There was a REASON for these vehicles being there that went beyond the law.

The magistrates looked at each other. The centre magistrate had recognised me from the moment I walked in and me him. We had met before in that courtroom.

After a short discussion he pronounced sentence.

For that ticket, they were willing discard it.

And that I can pay the other fines off at £4 a week, on top of the £4 a week for the £100 fine for having no insurance.

This means that over £20 a week will come out of my £45 a week Job Seekers Allowance to pay off fines, Crisis Loans and the proportion of rent they have refused to pay of my Housing Benefit. (The £45 is calculated as the minimum I need to survive on by the DSS.)

But now I can put all these court room dramas behind me and get on with my life.

It has finished, as is this CD.

I am now officially, NOT "Looking For Trouble" Anymore.

11:59pm 20^th April 1999

The artist formally known as "Happy Graham"

Or simply "Graham" to his family and friends.

Well, what can I say? It seems today is actually the birthday of the CD.

My birthday edition (20^th of April) will always be very special to me. But guess what, I found a couple of mistakes. I also realised I had a bit more space to add a couple more things.

But, strange as the story goes, I'm back in Bridlington and so will make the first "Commercial" copy at the place Trouble died.

My girlfriend is up here with me for the first ever time and both my parents are back for the Bank Holiday. I've come up with a view to busk in York and hopefully sell the first few editions of the CD.

Because I desperately need the money. Guess why?

Firstly, I haven't Triumphed as much as I'd expected. While all the work had been done on the previous failure sheet, when the mechanic took it to be MOTed, it failed on several other things the previous MOT station had passed just 3 weeks ago.

He reported to me that the cost of repairs would be a further £200. Is there a law against this? One of these MOT stations isn't doing their job properly.

Has it happened to me before? Yes, twice. A different MOT station giving an entirely different report on the same vehicle. Once I then immediately took it back to the original MOT station who then passed it!

But I have to try and sort that mess up out while I'm up here.

Secondly, today I had a letter from the Housing Benefit people. I had enquired that I felt they were taking too much off my rent towards the lighting and heating that is included in my rent. The amounts they had quoted meant that the bills we actually get would be three times bigger.

They admitted they had made a miscalculation. On checking the figures they felt they hadn't deducted enough and were reducing my Housing Benefit by a further £8.

I'm glad the CD was delayed to share this information with you. Yes, I shall be appealing. But listen to this…

I also got a letter today telling me I've been summoned to Bristol Magistrates Court in October. Re the lack of a tax disk on my Cavalier when I got a ticket at the firework show. (It was a month out, I was going to replace it but was just short of money because of the busking ban. Instead I used it for essential journeys only and used the bus for everything else.)

While the Police said they had dropped the actual parking ticket due to the circumstances (My radiator had blown up), once again it is give with one hand and steal with the other.

The Cavalier itself lies a wreck on my driveway back in Batheaston. Looking like it knows the crusher is on it's way, but seems to look at me and say, remember the good service I did give you? All those kids shows I got you safely to and from? And somehow I want to restore it. And would do if I had the money. I hate scrapping things, it seems a senseless waste of the time and money spent carefully making it.

But I will leave you with a story of heroism. Where I again helped someone for no reward, but the joy of helping a friend. And getting one over those bastards at the DSS.

When I went to sign on, I noticed in the chair in the next row a fellow busker and Childrens Entertainer. He was Portuguese and his English wasn't brilliant. But I watched him make a lot of kid's smile in Bath over last summer. Now he looked very ill, and appeared to having a problem.

I went over to try and help. Yes, he did have a problem.

He had been ill for over a week, and for the first time had missed his signing-on day, Thursday, a few days previously, because he had been in bed ill.

He went the following day but there was a large crowd, so went to get some chips, as he also hadn't eaten for two days. When he returned the security guard refused to let him in, saying that they had just closed. Even though some people were inside and waiting to be served.

He returned on the Monday to be told that his claim had been stopped. New rules had been brought into action two weeks previously, though claimants weren't advised of the change. That anyone missing their signing on would automatically have their claim closed down. Even if it was their first time and had a fairly legitimate excuse.

They restarted his claim and told him to get a Crisis Loan, as he had no money and again had not eaten for two days because of it, and was to ill to even busk to try and earn it.

When he went to the DSS for the Crisis Loan, they said the rules didn't allow it as he would be receiving his benefit cheque the following day.

The problem he now had was that it didn't arrive.

He had come in to ask why and had been told it was accidentally delayed, but had been posted and he should definitely get it the following day. This meant he was once again not entitled to a Crisis Loan either. Yet he was starving, ill and had no money.

So I stepped in. I pointed out that the original Crisis Loan had been denied on an incorrect assumption. The Job Centre staff suggested I went to the DSS with him and explain this and they might be sympathetic.

We went and after the normal wait explained the situation to the girl behind the counter. She said while she sympathised, as the cheque would most probably arrive tomorrow, that the same rule applied. A Crisis Loan could not be granted.

I pointed out that by again refusing the Crisis Loan, they were again assuming something that might not turn out to be correct, as had already been borne out once. But it was my friend was the Victim of their incorrect assumption. Yet was in quite an obvious crisis. Everyone could see he looked quite ill. Surely, this was the very type of case that Crisis loans existed?

The girl I spoke to tried pleading with the manager, but was told the rules didn't allow it. But suggested that maybe we could return to the Job Centre, ask for a stop to be put on the issued cheque and for them to issue him with it there and then.

Was that possible I asked?

Oh yes she replied and was surprised they hadn't suggested doing that themselves.

I wondered why the Job Centre had spent half an hour telling him he would have to wait, starving and ill, for his cheque to arrive the following day then sent us back here.

But I know why at heart. I've experienced such insensitivity and victimisation by people in "Authority" all too often. I reckon three quarters of the people who work in them would never survive in the real world or a proper commercial job.

Of course during my visit there a certain Security Guard hovered behind me listening in to the conversation and grinning. He probably thought it was me who was having a problem.

I returned with my friend to the Job Centre and asked to speak to the Manager. I explained I used to be a Manager of my own business and thus responsible for making decisions, as she was for the Job centre.

I pointed out all this had happened to my friend, because of wrong assumptions made by Authorities that he was depending on for his welfare. He, was the actual victim of their mistakes. In fact the Job Centre could have issued him with a cheque today and stopped the one that had been issued. Instead they had told him he would have to wait another day while obviously ill and starving.

She told me that while that could have been an option earlier, unfortunately it had now gone past four o'clock and they weren't allowed to issue any cheques after that time. She was sorry, but that was the rules.

I pointed out that if we hadn't been sent on a fruitless mission by her staff to the DSS to try and persuade them to issue a Crisis Loan, all this could have been resolved an hour and a half ago. That my friend didn't need all this added stress just right now. He just wanted some money to get some food and crawl back into his sick bed.

I told her that I was about to release my CD on Victimisation and was just finishing it off. That I was now listening very intently to what decision she was about to make for my friend.

She decided it would be fairest to stop the cheque and issue a new one.

My friend smiled for the first time and couldn't stop thanking me. He wanted to buy me a drink but I told him to spend it on food. Anyway, I had to return to my car as the time had run out on the ticket an hour previously.

I must admit I expected to return and find my moment ruined by finding a parking ticket under the window. But this time God smiled at me.

Or maybe the Traffic Wardens didn't know yet that I'd changed my car to a LADA. Which is currently proving to be very reliable. Maybe it will get the last joke on me after all my jokes about LADA's, and be my most reliable car ever! I hope so.

But now the time is 6:30am and I want to get the first copy burned off. No doubt as I complete it my girlfriend will come down ready for us to make an early start for York. And I will have to sing having not slept and with a smoked out voice.

Bet it'll sound great. Must remember to tape it for my next CD!

Hopefully, this is it. The end.

And instead of quoting Jesus, this time I'll quote myself.

P.S. 6:55am… was just checking through what I'd written and guess what… my girlfriend is standing behind me asking me if I'm coming to bed or are we going to make an early start to York?

Me thinks I always have been a little bit psychic!