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Sex, drugs & rock & roll
on 30 August 2010
I bought this years ago at the old Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street for about £2.50 and I still remember laughing out loud while reading it on tube on the way home. The reviewer who criticised the cockney present tense style has missed the point; for a start it's obvously ghost-written (Dougal may be a lovely chap but he is no Tony Fletcher) and secondly it's supposed to read as an ex-rock & roller (or rather, his assistant) telling you tales of 70s rock star madness over a beer or six in a local pub.
As for its News of the World style, of course Dougal had to over-emphasise the sex & drugs as that is what more often than not sells books. He only wrote this to cover some of the debts he incurred working for Moonie and never getting paid for it. As a result The Who were furious with Dougal, seeing the book as an affront to their dear departed drummer, and cut him off for years - I still don't know if they ever kissed and made up.
It's not a great biography and doesn't try to be; it's a loose series of hazy recollections of Moonie at his maddest with a strong undercurrent of sadness permeating the drunken tomfoolery. I'm off now to dig it out and re-read it: if you loved Moonie, try getting a copy just to hear about his excesses from someone who was there at the time.