I have written this short piece in an effort to give you some kind of understanding of myself and how come my book has the  effrontery to sit on shelves alongside books that are at least twenty times better than it – sometimes up to fifty times better.

Here’s a brief summary of me:

From 0 – 10: I am brought up in Winchester, a nice town in Southern England, by arty, eccentric parents. Everything seems to be going fine.

10 years old: I accidentally hear some AC/DC at school, and get this strange itchy feeling inside. At the time, I’m not sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. (It turns out to be a bad thing)

10 years and 1 month: I renounce all of my previous interests (hobbies, sports, school clubs etc.). I’m at a complete loss as to why my parents don’t love AC/DC too. WHY NOT?

10 years, 2 months: I suddenly realise that this is all about ‘rebellion’, which, to be honest, I don’t really understand.

10 years 6 months: I dress up as AC/DC’s Angus Young at my sister’s birthday party. Since his trademark outfit is a school uniform, nobody notices.

11 years: I discover Iron Maiden and Judas Priest, which makes me feel extremely grown-up and fashionable. I shun my old friends and disappear into my own fantasy world. I love Metal so much that I invent my own imaginary bands.

12 years: I discover Kiss. I love them so much I cry myself to sleep at night.

13 years: I decide to become a rock star. My father laughs and turns up the television.

14 years: Still laughing, he reluctantly hands over his old electric guitar, shows me three chords, and leaves me to it. I find someone else who likes Kiss too, so we call ourselves a band. We record our first demo tape. The vocals are us shouting over the top. My schoolwork has gone completely down the pan but I couldn’t care less.

15 years: We get a drummer (he also has one cymbal). My voice hasn’t broken yet, but at least I’ve learned how to wedge a cigarette into the end bit of my guitar. 

16 years: I quit school to become a full-time rock star. My mother is disappointed. I am now in a stupid comedy band with another friend of mine. It’s not going very well, but at least my hair is getting longer.

17 years: I join a proper band (sort of) and get a tattoo. Our first gig is at a big theatre on the edge of town. We have strippers, fireworks, confetti and serve wine during the interval. I’m not a very good guitarist, so we have to get someone else to come on to play the hard bits while I stand around miming, trying to look like I don’t care.

18 years: My band and I are Winchester celebrities! We try and record an album but it doesn’t go well. We start taking drugs. I have an extremely bad time on LSD. My father becomes our manager. Is this the end of the rock ‘n’ roll dream?

19 years: No! Convinced I am a rock god, I leave the band and move to London with no money. It doesn’t go well. I get a job at McDonalds. It doesn’t go well. I accidentally come into a very large amount of money. I spend the money.

20 years: I’m finally in a kick-ass London rock ‘n’ roll band. We take vast amounts of drugs and are cool and have adventures. I, however, am not very streetwise. I am dazzled by the lights.

21 years: I’m hoodwinked into marrying my Canadian girlfriend but then she runs away with our drummer. Although our band is good and we’re tipped for the top, all everyone cares about is taking drugs. I am unsure as to quite how I feel about all this.

22 years: Kurt Cobain comes along and kills Heavy Metal stone dead. I leave the band, they beat me up, break into my apartment twice, and steal all my gear. I renounce Heavy Metal, then retreat to a darkened room for ten years. 

After I renounced Metal, I got a job in a bookstore, which was a lot nicer. I worked as a bookseller for approximately five years, before getting a job in publishing.