Hater

nasty. We've stood together and watched in disbelief but now people are starting to react to what they're seeing. Many of the people right down at the front are trying to push their way out, a small minority are cheering on the violence and are trying to get closer chanting 'Swill, Swill...' and egging him on. Most of us are just stood staring at the stage. I look up again and I can hardly believe what I'm seeing. Swill is standing centre-stage again now, swinging a metal microphone stand around in a wide arc. Simmonds is flat on his back in what's left of the drum kit and he's not moving. McGuire's crawling across the stage on his hands and knees, trying to get to him. Now two roadies have rushed Swill. One of them catches the full force of a swipe with the mike stand right across his chest, the other dives and wraps himself around the musician's waist and tries to grapple him down. He's having none of it. He kicks and punches him off and tries to scramble away. He trips over the monitors and disappears down into the dark pit between the stage and the security barriers. There's a wail of feedback that sounds like a scream.
    Lost him.
    Can't see him.
    Suddenly he appears again. He's pushed his way out through the barriers and is running into the crowd. His MAG T-shirt is ripped and now hangs round his neck like a rag. The audience react with a strange mixture of fear and adulation. Some people run away from him, others run towards him.
    'Let's go,' Lizzie shouts to me.
    'What?'
    'I want to go,' she says again. 'Now, Danny, please. I want to go.'
    People are starting to try and move away from the stage area in large numbers. The house lights come up and everyone's speed suddenly seems to increase now that they can see where they're going. We're pushed and jostled towards the exits by shocked and frightened people criss-crossing in every direction, trying to get away from the trouble before it gets any worse. In the middle of the hall the fighting starts to look like a fully-fledged riot. I can't see what's happened to Swill but scores of fans who are either pissed or stoned or who just enjoy a good fight have dived into the middle of the chaos with their fists-flying.
    There's already a bottleneck forming where the bulk of the crowd is struggling to get out of the venue. I grab Lizzie's hand and pull her towards the nearest exit. We're surrounded by people and our speed reduces to a painfully-slow shuffle. A mass of huge, shaven-headed security guards push their way into the hall through another door to our left. I'm not sure whether they're here to try and stop the fighting or just to join in. I don't want to wait around to find out.
    Through the double-doors, down a short, steep, stone staircase and we finally push our way out onto the street. It's pouring with rain and there are people everywhere running in all directions.
    I have no idea what just happened in there.
    'You okay?' I ask Lizzie. She nods. She looks shocked and scared.
    'I'm all right,' she answers. 'I just want to go home.'
    I grab her hand tighter still and pull her through the bemused crowds. Some people are hanging around the front of the venue but most seem to be leaving. I'm really fucking angry but I'm trying not to show it. That's just typical of how things seem to be working out for me at the moment. Why does everything have to be so difficult? I just wanted to relax and switch off and enjoy myself for once, but what happens? A long-time musical hero loses all his credibility and fucks up my first night out with Liz in months. Fucking typical. Bloody primadonna.
    We slip down a side street and run back to the car.

SATURDAY
5

    Half past six and the alarm clock wakes me up with its usual grating groan. I reach out and fumble around in the darkness to switch it off. I have to think for a minute to try and remember what day it is. Do I have to get up? I'm sure it's Saturday and I just forgot to cancel the alarm. I lie still for a second and try and work back through yesterday and last night. I can remember another dull day at the office with Tina Murray taking me into one of the interview rooms and ripping into me because of my attitude. I remember the gig and the fight and running away from the venue. Christ, what exactly did happen there last night? Doesn't matter now. All that's important is that it's Saturday and I don't have to get up and go to work.
    I roll over onto my side and put my arm around Lizzie. She seemed happier yesterday than