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 ^{(it's beta!)}

Just call me Tommy, or Rockstar, or perhaps wannabe, hell, call me fucking Ishmael! No, Tommy is good, that’s what you all know me as any way. You know most of my story any way I guess. White working class kid, ADHD, trouble with the law, couldn’t pay attention at school, got in fights, got kicked out, finally found i could concentrate when learning guitar, practiced every day for fucking hours, told to give it up by everyone, got a band, local pub circuit, got bigger, first album tipped to be the best new album of the decade, drugs, drink, sex, but lost the rock’n’roll, rehab, shit comeback album. I’m rock’s greatest never was. Now just wait for the new album cashing in on the success of the film of this book.

What can I say about my early life? Born 1962, parents where Hippies, or so I’m told. Put up for adoption at the age for four, fucking Hippies. Adopted 2 years later, when I was 6 by the Barbers, back in care 3 months later, adopted when I was 7 by the Youngs, this one lasted, drifted through primary school, never really made friends. When I got into secondary school, High school to Americans, they never can get their heads round that one, like pavement, or tomato, NOT fucking tomaido, and the fact that fanny, in England means lady bits, not your fat, under exercised and over fed arse. I’m digressing, when I got to secondary school, well that’s when it got a bit more fun.