Personnel Page
Jim Crosskey: Guitars

Jim is our honourary member. Despite not being involved in the writing of the music (we're selfish control freaks, see), Jim is invaluable as live and occasional studio guitarist, not to mention cooking the best studio food we've ever had while we were recording at the cottage. Jim was at school with me and Andy (the year above, but only in age), and I ended up first demoing, then roadieing for, and then joining his band, Purple Rhinos, which, by the time I joined, had one Jason Moulster as bass player. Since then we've played in countless bands together, since when one of us gets into a band, if ever we're asked to suggest a bassist / drummer / guitarist, the other two are the first to come to mind. For Jim's own fan page, 'This Charming Man', go here. I'm sure Jim will have plenty to add to this site himself, but for the moment here's a classic Jimism: the Letter To Ginsters*

I have never before found myself writing such a letter as this, but after an experience involving one of your giant 'traditional' cornish pasties, I felt that I must.

My encounter with the aforementioned pasty took place at 16.00 on Saturday 16 August, 1997, but I feel it is necessary to commence my detailing of events from approximately 19.45 in the evening of the previous day, when my telephone rang. I answered the phone to an old friend whom I had not seen for some time. To cut a long story short, he was calling because he knew that he would be frequenting a drinking establishment within walking distance of my home, and wondered if I would care to join him, to which I replied that I would.

We met at 20.30 and immediately began to consume pints of premium strength lager (I believe this to have been 'Stella Artois', though I could be wrong). This wonderful beer quickly imbibed with a general feeling of goodwill and camaraderie. After the completion of seven delicious pints, and having declared our ever and undying love for beer, football and wide screen television, we decided to visit our local night-club, the Zodiac on the Cowley Road. As always, we were met with an atmosphere of friendliness and conviviality (I consider myself to be something of a regular) and we proceeded to continue our evening's jocularities to the deeply moving sounds of underground house and techno, courtesy of the quite superb Transmission disc jockeys.

We returned to my friend's  abode for coffee and cigarettes until approximately 05.30 on the morning of the 16 August, at which time, with bird song trilling in our ears, we both lost consciousness. We awoke at 14.30, sweating in the heat of the day, and decide that the only solution was that of 'the hair of the dog'. Two pints of Stella followed, though this seemed to worsen our condition, rather than improve it. With thoughts of breakfast, we slowly made our way to Mr J Sainsbury's excellent foodstore, where the above-mentioned giant pasty was purchased.

I never thought that such a simple foodstuff could provide such nourishment, such satisfaction. The pastry was a crumbly dream, the filling fresh and tasty, the onion particularly being worthy of mention in it's supreme succulence. After eating this delicious meal, I can only conclude that our Health Service could do worse than provide these giant pasties on prescription for the curing of all sorts of ailments. Well done sir, well done!!

In closing, I would mention the fact that I am currently employed within a customer service environment, and I know all too well that customers are ever quick to criticise, and slothful to say the least when giving thanks. Your organistion deserves the highest praise for providing such superb standards - without this excellent pasty, I would never have been able to go out the following evening and do it all again - needless to say, this did not present a problem, and was followed by a further giant pasty for breakfast on Sunday. Please pass on my deepest thanks to all your staff.

Yours in deepest gratitude,

Jim Crosskey.
 
 

*for those not resident in the UK, Ginsters manufacture snacks of the sort you try and construct a meaningful lunch from at a petrol station.