Many and various are the bands I pretended to like back as a teenage try-hard. In Year 8, I temporarily 'liked' punk-rock outfit Towers of London. Why? Because in my school, Year 8 classes were chopped and screwed judging by your first year performance and save for a few friendly faces, the classes were mostly alien and thus new friendships had to be quickly formed. In one French class, some guy next to me asked me if I liked this band called Towers of London, and I said 'yeah, course.'
I didn't. I had no idea who they were. But then he showed me the now-cult video of two TOL members arguing and then jumping a random dissenter on the mean streets of Peterborough town centre. And to a young lad who dreamt of a world where armpit hair existed and leather jackets didn't come down to my arse, it was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen. Now I look at it - now I've seen Spinal Tap - I'm only aware of the excruciating clichés into which the band so often fell.
Towers of London at the NME Awards in 2007. Image: PA
Towers of London's front-man Donny Tourette could give-it-all-that but never follow it up when it came to rucking. Slagging off Jade Goody and her mum before scaling the premises of 2007's Celebrity Big Brother house to escape was probably his most John Lydon, but going on Never Mind the Buzzcocks and getting torn a new one by Bill Bailey was pure David St. Hubbins.
His other bois, brother Dirk and guitarist Rev, however, could walk the walk and talk the talk. They could deal with the scrutiny that came with trying to evoke '77-style punk rock while dressing like 80s glam metalheads, as seen in this video of them sorting out an over-zealous Yank.
Dirk Tourette sucker punching an American. Image: Bravo
The video of Dirk and Rev spitballing with a Peterborough carpenter though, is truly special. It's a throwback to the not-so-long-ago days before the widely popular conformity of the nu-lad where being a part of a subculture could still get you battered at a bus stop.
This punter, more than half-cut, approaches Dirk and Rev to patronise their profession. He knows the answer and the outcome to his rhetoric, but it doesn't stop him in his campaign to undermine the boys, who he delegitimises as 'two-bit skinny little punks'.
Rev, who laughs off the punter's softballs, eventually cracks and says 'GIMME A FUCKING BREAK MATE'. He unties his belt, makes a run for the punter and brings him to the tarmac of a Peterborough street with the help of Dirk and some chicken-legged boots to the rib.
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The rest, as well as the band, is history...
Featured image credit: Bravo
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