A TRUE STORY

This is a true story about the consequences of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which ended in fleeing Spain whilst on a days bail for arson, of which the accusations were a damn big lie.

It all started after I lost my driving licence in the mid 80's for being slightly over the limit and as I needed my licence and car for my job, I subsequently lost my job. So I decided to take time out, collect and gather my thoughts and take a trip to Spain, where I would spend the summer. This trip was to clear my head, to find myself, but all I did find was nothing but trouble and so this is the beginning of a nightmare trip which became a headline maker for all the wrong reasons.

So saying goodbye to my parents at the airport, and with my suitcase, passport ( close to my heart as you will find out later ) one way plane ticket and a few hundred peseta in my possession, I was set for a summer break. Having landing in Malaga, I took a taxi to Marbella, I still do not know why I ended up there, I did no it was called Costa de Crime but I was a criminal on the run. I just wanted a break in the sun and I did hear a lot about Puerto Banus, a glamours place not far from Marbella and just fancied a visit, but I have never returned, have not touched foot in Spain since and quite frankly, I am sure I am missing nothing. As I was saying the taxi took me to the center of Marbella and I decided to stay in a decent hotel, 4 star in fact, for a couple of days until I found a very cheap hostel to stay in, as I was aware that my funds wouldn't last staying in an expensive place.

After collecting the key to my room, unpacking and acknowledging that the room was far too expensive for my budget, just the one day here I thought, I decided to have a shower, get dressed and venture out for the night.

So my first night in Marbella and what I did learn that night was to never ask any questions and to keep a low profile. I am not saying I am totally gullible, I am street wise but this was not my patch and I soon learnt that there were some pretty nasty characters hanging around. So there I was, a few drinks later, a low profile indeed, singing West End Girls on a karaoke night at this particular bar. The music was provided by a double act, two brothers, Kelvin, an ex army chap who told me aftewards about his time in Northern Ireland, he was the singer and Anthony who dealt with the music, changing CD's etc. It turned out, which I did know, that as I was not great behind the microphone, tone deaf to say the least but I did manage to do some work for brothers as a bit of a roadie and also getting them some gigs. This was great as I needed some extra cash and also I wanted to get my name around, of which within a couple of weeks, my name was know but for all the wrong reasons. The job lasted just a few days as my friendship with the brothers turned nasty and I was accused, yet again, of flirting with the girlfriend of the singer. I did state my case that this was not true, but did he listen, no, but he did manage to crack a great punch to my chin, but he was rather surprised that I didn't fall back or down. But without his help, I would be down and out, again the wrong place at the wrong time.