Shakin' Stevens and the sunsets returned home from the Seville Theatre just a little deflated. Waiting for them were a few social club dates. It wasn't quite the same thing, somehow. One of the first gigs arranged was local wedding reception at a social club in the valleys - one they hadn't been to before. They took their ailing equipment along to the hall late in the afternoon and started setting up, not a little depressed. "If only something exciting would happen" commented Rockin' Louie, who had quietly enjoyed himself in London. They decided to cancel a sound check and go off for a few drinks before the show, which had to be easy compared to what they'd so recently been through. It was quite dark when they returned to the hall, and wedding guests were just beginning to sway in.

Paul started untwisting wires on stage and setting up the last few microphone stands, and someone switched on the P A. There was a flash, and the whole hall was plunged into total darkness. Whether the P A had over loaded the system or whether someone's wiring had got crossed no one could say they were all too busy crashing into each other, screaming and shouting in the darkness. The band stood and listened for a moment as the wedding guests forgot about good behaviour and scuffled, cursed and threw things at each other and attacked the bridesmaids - at least, that's what it sounded like. Eventually the band picked up their equipment and escaped through the back door, leaving the hall with nothing but the noise of chaos emerging from its darkened windows.

The next gig wasn't much better. It was New Year's Eve, the end of a decade and the start of a new one which was to prove eventful for all of them. It was still proving a bit hard for Paul to'persuade them to take their new professional status seriously. The venue was the King's Hall, in Aberystwyth. It all started fairly quietly - there was a Christmas tree on each side of the stage which winked out peaceful messages to all and sundry. The band, however, had bought their girlfriends with them as well as a good quantity of booze, which was consumed before, during and after the show. The gig soon went from the sublime to the ridiculous. The Christmas trees formed a barricade across the stage and both the band and the audience frolicked in the foliage and on the equipment. Shaky was behind the curtain with a girl, having apparently given up all hope of singing that night, Stephen Percy nowhere in sight but a young girl masterfully twanging the strings of his guitar out of time and out of rhythm with the song. The rhythm wasn't quite there, either, as Rockin' Louie, seeing that no one cared too much about the quality of the sound, had also disappeared offstage to give his girlfriend a quick New Year greeting.

His place had been taken immediately by another young lady from the audience, who was making an awful lot of noise but not too much that rocked. Legs Barrett stood by the bar quietly watching and despairing while the riot took place around him, figuring that if reputations can be made on wild behaviour his boys weren't doing too badly. But Shaky's on-stage antics were sometimes too destructive. At a gig at Cardiff Polytechnic he swung out from the stage on the curtains which draped it, ripping them down in the process and badly spraining his ankle as he fell to the ground. He was in considerable pain afterwards, and the long drive to Cambridge in the early hours of the following morning, for a May ball, took a terrible toll. But booze proved a magic elixir, and Shakin' Stevens rocked, limped, hopped, but bopped through the gig. The Northcote Arms invited the band back to play again, several times, and it was on one of these lively and well attended occasions that a rather unusual reviewer was spotted in the audience. It was the not-quite-so-aging friend to the hippies, John Peel, known even now for his constant support of minority art forms, as listeners to his nightly Radio One Show can testify. John had been sent by Paul "I'll try anything once" Barrett, and that perhaps, coupled with the bemused press write ups from the Stones Show bought the bearded eccentric down among the rockers to see for himself if rock 'n' roll really did still exist. The following week a column in Disc which went under the rather unimaginative title of "Peel's Thoughts" included these -rather enthusiastic words of wisdom:

On Saturday night I went to the Northcote Arms in London's Southall to see Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets. If you talk of a "Rock 'n' roll revival" in South Wales the chances are good that no one will understand you - as far as they're concerned it's never been away. Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets come from Swansea (sic) and they look and sound just right. Shakin' Stevens sings and plays a guitar that's not plugged in to anything and only has three strings anyway. He sings well too and it's good to hear the band get away from "Summertime Blues" and "Good Golly Miss Molly." They do some Johnny Burnette numbers and Jack Scott's classic "Leroy", and Paul who's their manager and really part of the act too, said they were working up "Nothin' Shakin' " which is good news. Rockin' Louie plays drums and stood by the wall and talked to him about rock and he's really into it, and friendly too. Not into rock because it's fashionable or quaint or anything like that but because that's what Rockin' Louie is all about. The bass player (Carl Petersen) wore a silver lame jacket and the lead guitar stormed int() his solos in such a way that you just knew he wasn't going to play any bad notes. Do you feel that confident about your own trendy guitar hero? The pianist was, I was told, a newcomer to the group in fact he's only been with them for a year, which tells you something else about Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets.

They're going to record soon and they'll be doing things that you've not heard time and time again. They don't see the point in recording rock classics when the originals are available on the LP if you want them. The audience was as interesting as the band. There were many rockers and a few teddy boys. It was good to see those long drapecoats, string ties and drainpipe trousers. The atmosphere was rowdy and yet there was no menace in the air. There were lots of girls there and if you believe in shoving people into categories, then most of those categories were there. There was one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen at the other side of the room. Dark hair and lots of laughter. Her boyfriend had a beard and mustache in addition to the quiff of hair hanging limply down his forehead. It was a good evening.

In the days when hippie music was the big thing, you could rely on John Peel to seek out and find something esoteric for his time. He had been working on some tapes with Gene Vincent. In fact, he was so impressed by the Sunsets (who must have sounded incredible to ears softened by years of Can, Pink Floyd and all their cousins) that he offered the band a record deal on his own label, Dandelion Records. Paul was just slightly wary of associating himself and Shaky with an established hippie label, but then again, he figured, it was such a way out idea, why not let the dope-inhaling hippies turn on to some of their music, it might even do them some good.

Peel arranged for the band to go into Studios in New Bond Street and came along himself to oversee the recording. Paul sat with him in the control box, and began to get worried. The band played appallingly Carl Peterson, in particular, was so unnerved by the plush surroundings and the lack of a live audience to feed off that he even held his guitar slightly differently, self-conscious. But if John noticed it didn't seem to bother him. Paul wondered if the man was really into rock 'n' roll or just into the idea of it. A few days later John brought a few friends into the control room, to witness the recording of his new pet project. One of these was the famous Liverpool poet, Adrian Henry. "He's a great poet," comments Paul sourly, "But I didn't think he was fit to judge our music." Paul began to hear comments like "John, where did you find these amazing people - have you seen that man's jacket, and are those really drainpipe trousers - it's simply too much!" He got the feeling that they were something of a cute laboratory specimen, some new off-beat art cult for John to show off to his friends.

It was around that time that Dave Edmund's came on the scene. Edmund's had made the big time in 1965 with a band called Love Sculpture and "Saber Dance" which has passed now into the annals of music history. With the money that he made from that, he got himself involved with a Monmouth recording studio called Rockfield which had just opened up under the auspices of Charles and Kingsley Ward who, because of Dave's investment in the project, allowed him as much free studio time as he wanted. As a result Dave spent several years there, making quite a name for himself as a producer and generally learning the recording trade.

He came across Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets while driving past a young farmers' community hall which had been utilised as a rehearsal studio by rock 'n' rollers for years, just outside Ely, called The Drope. The band went there quite often to run through the set and thrash out problems. According to Dave, it was such a surprise to hear hard rock 'n' roll wafting towards him on the country air in that June of 1970 that he stopped at once to investigate. He was with a few friends, known on the Cardiff scene for their hippie way of life and tastes. Seeing Paul Barrett, Rockin' Louie and Carl Petersen ex-members and ex-manager of the Backbeats - he assumed at once that here was a revamped Backbeats. He stayed and listened for a while, and obviously liked what he heard because he invited the band to come down to Rockfield and cut a few tracks with him. Paul was almost as unsure of Dave's offer as he was of the other which was still hanging in the balance. John Peel was a name in those days over and above that of Dave Edmunds, and he might have been able to do more good for the band down on that basis alone. He promised to bring the band down to Rockfield studios the following week, but only to go as far as a playback, to see if they liked Dave's producing style.

By then, Paul knew, he would have heard the final mixes of the John Peel tracks. The Dandelion Records episode ended only minutes after the final playback of the tapes. Paul couldn't consider letting Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets' name which was doing all right for itself in the established rock 'n' roll world - to be associated with anything of such dubious quality. Paul and John parted amicably enough, though, and it's unlikely that the Dandelion tapes will ever see the light of day. John Peel doesn't involve himself too closely with the careers of acts he likes any more- incidents like the abortive Shakin' Stevens record only served to show him that it's easier to remain his affable yet critically balanced self when he's not directing the commercial future of an act. And so began the Rockfield/Dave Edmunds experience and the beginning of an album called "A Legend" which is aptly named, in hindsight. It was at Rockfield that the latent jealousy between Shakin' Stevens and Rockin' Louie jelled into tears and tantrums and it was also at Rockfield that the band acquired a reputation for wild behaviour.

The antics of the Keiths Moon and Richard had nothing on these boys when they were bored and had drunk a bottle or two of wine. No property was too hallowed or too valuable for their destructive tendencies, as the studio was to discover to its cost. But back to the Rockin' Louie/Shakin' Stevens problems. Paul admits now that Rockin' Louie must have swallowed a lot to join a band fronted by the young Shaky, the boy who for so long during the Backbeats days had been jokingly named Rockin' Louie II, in mockery of his efforts to look and sound just like his hero. And yet here was Louie's ex-manager, asking him to take a back seat and forget his own aspirations to become a front-man, while time, energy and emotion were expended on Shaky. Rockin' Louie was good, Paul knew that. He could sound like, dance like, and even look like almost any fifties rock 'n' roll hero you could think of. But Paul also knew that Shaky had something extra of his own, which would ultimately take him further. But Louie wasn't the type to bear a grudge against anyone, and playing drums with a good rock 'n' roll band which could guarantee him a decent living and a fine life-style was enough for him.

As a dedicated rock 'n' roller he had never asked for more than that. Having Louie in his band in the first place, he found it hard to talk to him and was very touchy about references to Louie's singing which might have reflected back on him. But Shaky found this hard to accept. A little overawed by the prospect of him. An incident in the Northcote Arms one night, soon after the album was released, demonstrated this all too clearly and should have sounded warning bells As a fairly knowledgeable rocker, he remembered Louie from the Backbeats and asked Shaky why Louie didn't sing on a few numbers (already strictly forbidden). Shaky replied, getting agitated, "Louie might be all right at the blackstuff, I suppose, but I'm far better than him on rockabilly and straight rock 'n' roll!" A fierce argument ensued, and when Rockin' Louie tried to intervene diplomatically not sure of the cause of the quarrel, Shaky immediately burst into tears and ran out of the pub, shouting, "I'm better than you, I am, I am!" Louie was stunned by the depth of Shaky's emotion and apparent insecurity, and did his best to patch things up.

Soon after the incident at the Northcote Arms, Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets were invited to playa gig in Swindon with Arthur Big Boy Cruddup, a blues hero who is known for writing and recording "That's All right Mamma" just before Elvis, without achieving the same earth moving success. And so, despite it being a bitter, snowy February night, the band turned out in the van to support him. On the way home much later that night and probably with a couple of drinks inside him Shaky crashed the van. He was a supremely good driver, Malcolm Clint and Brian Williams from the Rebels days talk almost in awe about Shaky's ability to slide a car into the smallest parking space, almost without effort. Although not in the least mechanically minded, he thoroughly enjoyed driving, and the band usually felt perfectly safe when he was behind the wheel.

On this night, though, he panicked. He thought that he might be over the legal limit for alcohol, and losing his license would have been punishment indeed for him. After the initial shock of the crash had worn off and after he realised that everyone in the back was all right, he started thinking about what it would be like spending a year away from the wheel of his car. In despair, he turned to Rockin' Louie was sitting beside him and who had been making enormous efforts over the past few weeks to befriend the boy. "Change places with me, Louie," he pleaded. "I just can't afford to lose my license and you haven't drunk as much as me, you might get away with it." Louie hesitated only for a second, it was worth it to him to be friends with Shaky, and this would surely demonstrate his goodwill towards him. "All right, Shaky, move over, I'll take the wheel before the cops get here."

It was while legs were waving in the air and elbows were jamming noisily into the horn that Paul suddenly came to life. "Stop, you idiot Louie you can't take the blame for this. You don't even have a license, remember?" Louie had completely forgotten in the heat of the moment (or had he) that he had lost his own provisional license some years earlier and would therefore face a far stiffer penalty than anything Shaky would get if he was caught driving now. Shaky pouted, but moved back into the driving seat to face his doom. In. the event, he had panicked for nothing, he got away with it completely, it was such a biack and snowy night that the local police had far better things to do than pull in drunken drivers.

At Rockfield, however, things between Shakin' Stevens and Rockin' Louie came decisively to a head. To Dave Edmunds, who had seen the band as are-vamped Backbeats, it seemed the most logical step, as Paul suggested, to put the Backbeats front-man, Rockin' Louie, on occasional vocals. He actually wasn't all that interested in Shakin' Stevens. The youth and charm hadn't washed too far over this experienced Cardiff musician, who'd seen most of it before, several times. He accepted that as he made the offer to Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets, it was only right that Shaky should take most of the vocal weight, but he wanted the producer's right to pull other musicians out to handle vocals on other tracks should he so desire. He actually insisted on a duet between Shaky and Louie on "Cast Iron Arm" and "Light's Out" which must have been interesting to watch, and for one of the main tracks of the album-to-be, "Down on the - Farm", he wanted only Louie's vocals; Shaky didn't even figure on that track in Dave's plan of things.

When Dave gave the instructions to Louie, through the microphone which links the control room and the studio itself, Shaky, who had been clearing his throat in readiness to sing, turned a deathly shade of pale. Quietly he left the studio and went up to the control room, while Louie started to sing. He remembers standing in front of a microphone,concentrating on the lyrics with one hand on his earphone, when something in the control room above him caught his attention and caused him to falter. Although the room was well sound-proofed and Dave hadn't indicated for him to stop, he could see that there was a terrible scene taking place.

Shaky was gesticulating frantically, with tears streaming down his cheeks, and through the window Louie could see Shaky's lips repeating over and over again "I'm the singer, I'm the singer!" Paul had Shaky by the arm and Louie could imagine the deep Welsh voice soothing and calming the tide of hysteria. Dave was bent in concentration over the mixing desk, remaining as uninvolved as he could in the circumstances. He was leaving it all up to Paul's diplomatic and managerial influ~nce. When Louie stopped singing, the speaker from the control room clicked on. "Don't stop Louie, that was fine." Louie looked up at Paul, who nodded for him to continue as he put his arm around the sobbing Shaky and led him from the room. How Paul eventually pacified Shaky and got him to accept the "Down on the Farm" song and a few others on the album, no one knows, but somehow he succeeded, without hurting Shaky's feelings and without telling him for at least the next five years that Dave Edmunds was never interested in him at that time.

The other members of the Sunsets wondered at Paul Barrett's patience and protective force with Shaky. He was known to be the most immature member of the band, and yet Paul believed in his talent so sincerely that he kept Shaky safe from all the cynical knocks and blows which must inevitably come when traveling the rocky road to stardom.. Paul knew that a large part of Shaky's commercial value was his innocent charm and naivity, and he worked hard to keep this as intact as he could over the coming years on the road, starting with a total cover-up of this rejection by Dave Edmunds. But there was still more trouble in store. Edmunds wanted a single off the album- naturally, it's the best promotion for a long player you can think of-but he wanted it to be "Down on - the Farm'-a no-Shaky single.

There was no way that Shaky was going to be talked into allowing this to go ahead, so Paul had to lock himself away with Dave, and finally convince him that the title "Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets' meant just that- it was Shakin' Stevens who had to be promoted here, not Rockin' Louie. After some debate, Edmunds finally gave way, and although "Down on the Farm" remained on the single, it was switched to the flip side with the rather unusually titled "Spirit of Woodstock" now becoming the "A" side. Privately, Edmunds said he hoped that the flip side would pick up more airplay - it was his own personal favourite.

"Spirit of Woodstock" picked up quite a bit of airplay, although Emperor Rosko agreed with Dave Edmunds about the flipside and played it several times. But as a press coup, they couldn't have come up with a better song. What on earth, every journalist asked from the Melody Maker to the South Wales Echo and the Penarth Times, were a die-hard dedicated ro~k and roll group doing singing about a hippie festival? For the same reason that they ne"arly recorded a record for John Peel, Paul told them. The Penarth Times quoted him: "Although the original rock sound isn't out of date, some of the themes of the songs are. You have to have a modern subject, you can't make records about blue suede shoes and expect to sell them to people who've never worn them." Paul has never been a believer that rock .In' roll is a museum piece of the fifties, to be put behind glass and polished occasionally. From the beginning, he tried to persuade the band to move with the times.

Interestingly enough, reviews of this first album, "A Legend" which came out on Parlophone during the autumn of 1970, already began to compare Shaky with Elvis. One paper published a letter from a young lady called Clara Brooks which read: "From the time when, as a young virgin, still being poured into a pair of blue knickers and a white vest at school, I screamed and swooned over Elvis Presley in "Love Me - Tender" and "Loving You", I expected he would visit this country one day. Now I understand this is unlikely to happen. Who cares? So what? Shakin' Stevens possesses a lusty pair of lungs and he sounds so like El that it's utterly unbelievable." Another paper was more positive: "Shakin' Stevens doesn't imitate Elvis Presley - he just happens to sing that way and he does it fantastically". Shaky had certainly never consciously imitated Elvis, although he did drive everybody crazy in the van as he sat perfecting his lip-curl technique-but then again, he was only following in the footsteps of hundreds of other rock musicians, like Cliff Richard - of whom Shaky was an ardent fan in his early days.

Even Eddie Cochran looked and sounded a little like Elvis - that's what the folks wanted, and so that's what you tried to give them. Shaky was just one of thousands of young kids who wasted hours in front of the bedroom mirror, contorting their knees in an outward direction and wiggling their hips. Some, like Shaky, managed it better than others, and only a very few ended up making a living from it. The "Legend" album was a good first experience for the band as a unit. It attracted good press and even made the top twenty in Cardiffl They learned some practical lessons, too - like how to space out your session,s in the studio so as to get the most out of it. They were lucky not to have been paying for the studio time themselves, which was expensive even in 1970. Most new bands have to work out most of their records in a cheaper rehearsal room and only go to into the studio when they are sure of themselves and can spend the least possible time - and money - in re-takes. The "Legend" album started enthusiastically enough, but then meandered and dithered through the Shaky/Rockin' Louie traumas, during which time there were six musicians, a road manager and Paul all hanging around and getting very bored indeed. When the studio had finally had enough of finding cider in their tapes and stubbed out cigarettes on their mixing desks, they forced the band to finish the whole thing - which amounted to nearly nine tenths of it - in one long, exhausting session. They did it without too many problems, though, like the ultimately professional musicians that they all were, and you would never be able to guess from the final result that the bass player Stephen Percy actually spent a good part of that eighteen hours lying on his back on the floor, with his feet sticking casually out of the studio door and a guitar around his neck, playing boogie woogie and smoking a cigarette at the same time.

He'd had enough, too. The band were as glad to see the back of Rockfield as Rockfield were undoubtedly glad to see the back of them, throwing a total ban on them as they left the front door. An interesting epilogue to the Rockfield/Dave Edmunds story is that soon after the timely departure ofShakin' Stevens and the Sunsets, Edmunds re-cut one of the tracks from the "Legend" album which he hadn't come across before he heard Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets perform it in his studios, but which appealed to him so much that he decided to try recording it for himself. It was "I Hear You Knocking". He offered it to EMl/Parlophone, who owned the rights to it through the deal his production company, Rockpile Productions, had struck for Shakin' Stevens and the Sunsets. EMI, however, didn't know a good thing when they heard it and turned it down flat, refusing to release it. Undaunted, Dave approached MAM Records, who released it and sold an immediate 5,000,000 copies.

EMI acted swiftly then, threatening injunctions and trouble until EMI, MAM and Rockpile Productions came to an agreement to split the royalties. EMI dropped Shakin' Stevens then, like a hot potato, so that when Paul approached Dave the following year to ask if he minded them cutting a track on a B&C Records Rock compilation album theoretically the band were still under contract to Dave - Dave waved his hand and said yes, by all means - just go away. He had better things to think about. The band gratefully returned to the road, then, but still without taking their professional career all that seriously. One of the first gigs they fulfilled (in a way) after coming out of Rockfield Studios was at a freshers' ball at Keele University. Earlier the same evening they had appeared at a nearby club called the Grey Topper, so that by the time they got to Keele Union, spirits were running high and flowing fast. Also booked to appear on the same bill, for some reason best known to the social secretary, were Jon Hiseman's Coliseum, quite a big name at the time and generally considered to be the "thinking hippie's band". Jon Hiseman had quite a reputation behind him for his ability on the saxophone, which was the focal point of Coliseum.. This worried Duane the Fink, sax player by appointment to the Sunsets.

He was, it should be remembered, really a bass player. He was placed on sax purely because the band already had a bass player when he joined. He was all right - but not in Hiseman's league. The dressing rooms were small, and soon Hiseman wandered over to the Sunsets, and spotted Duane's saxophone, sticking out from under the several coats he had tried to cover it with when he saw Jon's approach. "Oh, you play sax do you - that's great!" remarked the friendly Hiseman. "It's so good to share a dressing room with another sax player. You're on before us, aren't you - I'll make sure I come out front and watch you blow." The stunned Duane could only nod and smile as he went slightly green around the edges. When Jon turned his back, Duane collapsed in a heap. "I can't go on - I can't play in front of him" he moaned. He practically had to be carried onstage in the end.

They plugged in their instruments and started to play. Suddenly, Duane threw down his saxophone and streaked off stage. Only slightly bemused, the band played on. But by this time Trevor the Hawk had lost his temper with the in-house piano - it was pretty badly out of tune, and, being the serious m~sician that he was, he too now decided that he could play no more. Quietly he closed the lid of the piano and walked off. Rockin' Louie by now had a grin slowly spreading across his amiable features which was threatening to turn itself into a laugh. Meanwhile Stephen Percy, the bass player, thought, "If they're all going why can't I go - why shouldn't Shakin' Stevens then, always being of faint heart, thought "I'm not hanging around while the set falls to pieces" and also split the scene. Left on stage now were a mirth-ridden Rockin' Louie on drums and Carl Petersen on guitar and what the audience were being treated to was an interminable version of a guitar boogie which went on and on and on, while Paul Barrett frantically raced around the dance hall rounding up the straying members like sheep and cajoling, persuading and threatening them to go back on stage and finish the set, which they eventually did.

The first radio interview came during August, arranged as part of their promotion for "Spirit of Woodstock". It was at a Radio One Club in Hereford, and the whole band admitted to being more nervous than they had ever been for anything. The DJ didn't endear himself to Shaky by spending the major part of the interview talking to the more relaxed Rockin' Louie, and then by calling him "Mike" in the entertainment tent afterwards, mistakenly assuming that Shakin' Stevens was a stage name. It was later that evening that Stephen Percy made matters worse for Shaky by repeating the taunt, out of sheer mischief, which is when Shaky decided to reshape the van with his fist. Perhaps to calm things down a little, an excursion was immediately organised to a nearby off-licence to get some booze, and whoever it was that was sent came back with a lot more than they had paid for tucked up their jumper. In fact, they had managed to pilfer several large bottles of excellent whisky - "on offer" at the shop and so within an arm's reach of temptation.

The first bottle of whisky was consumed on the way home, and girls were picked up on the motorway and attacked in the back of the van - just like the good old days of the Denims in their three ton truck. They all poured out at Carl Petersen's house having dumped the girls unceremoniously on the hard shoulder, to drink the rest of the booze, and listen to a playback of their radio interview. Shaky and Duane the Fink settled themselves down into the comfort of Carl's living room sofa to listen to themselves talking in public for the first time ever when suddenly Stephen Percy burst drunkenly into the room. Still wearing his famous silver lame jacket and his special image-giving Buddy Holly glasses, he looked a terrible sight with his long black greasy hair hanging down over his eyes and a full bottle of the stolen whisky brandished over his head. Before anyone could speak, he swayed across the room and smashed the bottle with a terrible force over Shaky's head, breaking it into a thousand pieces. Duane the Fink dropped to the Door, rubbing his eyes - which had been splashed with whisky - and screaming "My eyes! My eyes!" You've blinded me!", whereupon Carl the Curse and Rockin' Louie manhandled Stephen out of the room, roughly down the stairs and out into the street where he lay, amidst the dirt and dust in his silver lame jacket. Shaky recovered quickly from the incident - he has a hard head. The next day the band had a meeting in a local rehearsal hall. Stephen Percy turned up, looking hung-over and sheepish, apologising profusely for his behaviour of the previous night and saying that he had been taking some tablets - but he was much better now, whatever that may have meant! However, a vote was taken and it was decided that Stephen Percy should be kicked out of the Sunsets - not so much, it should be pointed out in fairness, because he had smashed a bottle over Shaky's head, but more because it was a full bottle, and they were all worried what he might get up to next.