The first thing I noticed was how tall Pete Doherty was. Quite a gangly individual with no obvious control of direction or gravity. Nonetheless here I was sat upon his tour bus meeting with a dear friend. That I might add was the tour bus driver and not Pete. Media stories not withstanding, I found Peter to be a very amiable and charming chap that didn’t live up to his tabloid reputation. However this was at the start of the gig and it was a long night.
His unique blend of crowd pleasing antics and guitar strumming went down well with the full house and I couldnt help but think that someone so talented couldn’t want for additional highs after such a gig. Even in my club DJing days I never really ‘got’ the whole thing of getting smashed after deck duties. After all that was how I got my kicks. Mind you looking back, I did like the odd tipple here and there. As Russell Brand once pointed out too, once you’ve had the rush of the crowd and you’re back in your room with nothing, you crave it again. Lets not forget though that Mr Brand also advised us all to vote Labour….
I only took in a couple of tracks as its not really my bag and I was there to catch up with my pal and swing the lamp. To be fair, that’s where the fun really started as it all drew to a close. Not being a rock or pop star myself the closest I ever got to being mobbed was when I opened a community centre in Wootton on the Isle of Wight! This was in the heady days of conquering the South Coast whilst on Power FM and very embaressing it was too. Still duty called.
Once he’d exited stage left the mobs waited next to the tour bus. There were screams of ‘Peter, Peter we love you’ and a huge number hung around just to catch a glimpse of their hero. Mr Doherty didn’t dissapoint and after half an hour he greeted the crowd like a possessed jack in the box and posed for pictures and signed autographs accordingly. Twice…
To be honest, he appeared to me as a performer knowing exactly what he was doing and how to treat his fan base whilst keeping up the mystique. A raw talent who with any luck will realise the quality of his own work and ease back on the antics a bit. For the most part of the latter end of the evening I had been hanging around on and off the bus with my mate, talking rollocks and generally catching up an all things in the real world.
As I bid my compadre adieu one the clubs security asked me if I was CP ( close protection ) for Pete that night. presumably because I had been ‘in the area’ and was an unknown quantity with a an ex Army aura about me. Had I answered in the affirmative no doubt the next question would have been ‘how do you get into that’? However the chap in question I don’t think really thought it through prior to asking because in my experience, most in the CP line of work dress with clothing to conceal ‘items’ and a sturdy pair of boots. Not shorts, T shirt and bright red flip flops. Still, thanks for asking…