I can still see it now, walking back from a Sunday lunch at Paula’s and Clare’s in Redshank I received a text from Mr Murf.
We had all been to Tache night club the night before in Blackpool and from the content of Chris’ text he had not gone home alone.
“u must b an angel because you left your halo on my pillow”
Ah – the joy! Of all the people he could have mistakenly sent a text to he sent it to me… This was going to be fun.
“I’ve told you before, i’m a married woman” I text back.
he quickly replied “Sorry, I didn’t mean to send that text to you”
“no shit Sherlock… u little devil!”
My best memory’s of Chris was playing in ‘The Strewth’ but there was one Saturday night in the Bluebell. We went out after the gig for drinks and on the way home to my caravan Chris Snuck into the Halliwell Jones stadium- we were both going to run on the pitch for the fun off it. I followed him down some corridors towards but then turned back as was to scared to go on (chicken). Chris wasn’t too scared though and carried on with the mission. while I walked outside and around the main path, i got to a side entrance wondering where he was. I was just in time to see him walking through the air, well maybe flying through the air, and through the big blue side doors courtesy of 2 angry faced security guards. He landing on the floor in front of me whilst giving the fat heads some abuse. We walked home laughing to meet Tom and when we got there Chris tripped on a guitar lead and fell on top of the Christmas tree, squashing lots of pressies :0 Dont worry though it was only a cheapo tree….. the whole thing bent in half! happy days.
Chris and his family went to Majorca most years from what I remember.
Every year he’d come back with a holiday pressie for me. Every year it was along the same theme… something rude.
To give you an idea here’s one very similar to one I got when I was about 8. Enough to say the barrel goes up and down and there is a spring involved. This one isn’t quite as dirty as the one he got me, which has stuck on grey hair from a rabbit for added effect.
I received various gifts along the same lines.
Typical murph giggling as he hand it over to me and sees my mums face.
You might not know this but Daz and Murf were so intimate they once shared a bed.
When we lived in the caravan instead of splashing out on a B&B Daz and Murf decided to kip with us in our 12ft caravan with portaloo, water from a pump, and curtain for a dividing wall between the living quarters.
We did not get much sleep due to the fact that all night all you could hear was Murf giggling and saying ‘Don’t touch me’ and calling Daz a ‘Puff’.
Just when we thought we had all finally got to sleep he would shout ‘Innnn One!’, ‘One-hundred-and-eighty!’ or ‘and Bullies special prize’!
Me and Ste didn’t get much sleep that night… having said that we did have the champion snorer in the caravan that night as well (that’s Daz not me).
Its all a bit fuzzy, and a long time ago but my first recollection of Chris was A Necropolis BZ gig at Padgate Studio. Cool gig too, Big Daz with his Batman Costume, and Andy’s blonde hair bobbing up and down all over the place (probably a little too “refreshed” to realise it wasn’t a Tansads gig). The Cypress Hill cover, with Chris and Bob as B -real and Senn Dog was hilarious! A while after the gig, we all went to the Barley Mow and I bought Chris (who was about 3 stone wet through at the time) a Guinness, which he proceeded to neck in one go!
Early on Christmas morning, must’ve been around the late 90’s, walking home after a late night out at the barley mow, Chris n I had made it as far as bruche ave but it must’ve taken about an hour to get this far, given our state of inebriation, this wasn’t too shabby, as most of the walk had been spent crabbing sideways singing songs. At this time on a Christmas morning traffic was a rare sight and when we heard the Whine of an electric motor and the clinking of glass bottles, the both of us knew exactly what to expect coming down the road. However as the milk float passed Us the one thing I didn’t expect to see was Chris burst into life and clamber onto the back of the float and although not the quickest of vehicles, it was more than a match for my drunken attempt at a sprint, left in the wake of the speeding float I could do nothing but watch on as Chris, (bouncing around) on the back of his ride gave me a two fingered salute as the float turned right for home, leaving me with a nice cold walk home and a sense of envy at the quick thinking and bold move that saved him a good half hours walk in the freezing cold.
Whilst on bob’s stag doo in newquay, we were getting ready for a second night out.
Chris was in the men’s room which was next to where all the beds were.
After a night on the guiness the day before he had a lot to shift.
There was no mistaking the noises from the bathroom but in a vain attempt to disguise it chris shouted ‘achoo’ about 1 second too late.
Chris was incredibly cool when he was 16. He used to fashion himself on Jim Morrison, only where Jim could afford Jack Daniels he could afford Stonehouse. He was the type of renegade that was just to cool to care and no one could tell him what to do…
I remember being stood on the corner near the Video Box in Padgate – between ‘All-Sorts’ and the red phone box with Georgina, when we bumped into Chris who offered us cigarettes. I didn’t smoke but Georgie did so they sparked up and we proceeded to chat. Georgie and Chris were living the life and keeping cool – trying to pretend they didn’t fancy each other and both trying to deny they fancied me when out of nowhere we heard the sound of a bicycle bell and Pat announcing herself loudly.
Chris immediately shoved his fag into my hand.
‘Christopher Murphy, why are you not in College?!’ Pat certainly looked annoyed.
‘I’m just on my way now’ Chris was cringing but fell straight into line.
‘Were you just smoking? You’d better not have spent that bus money I have just given you!?’
‘They’re smoking not me, i’m just on my way to get the bus now, I didn’t buy them, they’re Georgie’s, not mine’
In actual fact he had spent his bus money and was bumming around until one as let would not let you use your pass between 12pm and 1pm.
When Pat left Chris said ‘I hate that basket’ meaning the ‘Shopper’ basket on Pat’s bike.
That moment defined our relationship from there on in… I knew he wasn’t as cool as he portrayed and he knew that I knew.
I’ll never forget the first time I met Pat and the way she whipped her little boy into line – someone had too!
This pic is from the day after my wedding -which was also on Chris’ birthday. I was unwashed and still wearing all my wedding gear, and a big chufty badge. I’d been at the venue finishing off the burgers and drinking mead all day and we all ended up meeting in the Blue Bell for a couple more to end the weekend in style (it was bank holiday monday the day after, so all the more reason to prolong the festivities). We rang Matty Mac on the off chance he could make it out, thankfully he could, and it was great to see him. It was a mellow one with a good few laughs, and for me a good comedown from all of the hype and emotion of the wedding week. As far as I know, this is the last pic ever taken with all the boys from Necropolis BZ, featuring Ste & me still tickled by the rude gesture my pal Emma had taught us at the wedding.
Click below to listen to roxanne..
Most of us will have experienced the horror of an Andy fart, but this time Andy let rip in the smallest pub known to man – ‘The Gypsy Tavern’…
In no time the pub was emptied apart from the weak and the guilty, leaving Andy and Murph to to choke on the hazardous fumes, barricaded in by the mighty foot of Ann-Marie and a cackling sidekick.
After a futile escape Murph took refuge by sticking his head out of the pub’s frosted window – which was in fact a work of art… I wonder if the window frosting is still in tact or if Murph had to lovingly restore it to it’s former glory for the housing association inspectors?
… Yes I know that’s not how you spell ‘Gypsy’ but I don’t tell you how to spell your pet’s names or the names of your pubs, and it was spelt that way on purpose because it made my cat and the pub exotic.
Several years ago in the Noggin pub, we were having an annual Christmas get together with Chris and all his mates.
Karaoke was on, so after getting ‘loosened up’ Chris decided he was good enough to be Elvis.
He chose Blue Suede shoes to sing, but in his best Elvis voice sung “A Blow, Blow – A Blow Suede Shows…”.
This was funny enough until he started going on his tip toes (sort of like Elvis). This drew attention to his ‘not so blue suede shoes’. In fact they were skanky trainers!