Introduction

Mr Lucky is the erstwhile manager of R&B band The Shakermakers. We accept no responsibility for anything he may say now or in the future. Here we go...

1

A word from our manager, Mr Lucky...

The Shaker Makers? Oh yes. If you like Girls Aloud, forget it. Forced me to take them on after large amounts of cheap beer. Nice bunch, though. Shane and Bow were rehearsing as a 3 piece in Erith (look it up) whilst Steve and Bob were talking bands whilst playing snooker. Got together this blues/r&b/country outfit with up and coming harmonica guy John and insane drummer Chris. A lot of people like them for some reason which escapes me. Keep telling them that it's death metal that people want, but they never listen. Anyway, Kylie's not doing much at the moment so I'm getting them some gigs, so do come and see them. Don't forget to give the entrance fee to me: I'll be at the bar with a pink tie and a red nose. By the way, you might also want to check out my new bands "Survivors from the Mental Health System" and "The Walkie Talkies" if they come down your way. Cheers.

2

Another word from our manager, Mr Lucky...

Welcome to my space. Me Tube. Lucky online. Luckbook. And so on. If you want this, you're fed up with bloody web sites or blues bands, eh? Or do you fancy your chances? I don't play straight, I'll tell you that now for nothing. I guess you thought I was the slick brain behind The Shaker Makers, but you have no idea what I went through to skim the cream off the top, so to speak. You'd have to buy me a large one to get that kind of bollocks.

Well, anyway, it was all down to Rita. I was 12, and she showed me the ropes, as did Carl, but we won't go into that. First thing I learned was never show your hand, even if you're playing cards. Keep them guessing as you board a flight to Rio wearing a leotard and carrying a year's supply of business cards. When you arrive, always give them your brother's name and don't look at anyone wearing a uniform. Find the centre of town and work outwards, not the other way around. Soon a number of key people will dislike you intensely. This is a good sign.

Next, get a base, a woman and a tab. If you can't get the base, get the tab, then the woman. If you can't get the tab, get a man, then a woman, then some chewing gum and dark glasses. I tried them all and ended up with a broken nose, so you could skip this stage if you want.

You want to know about how I met The Shaker Makers? To tell you that, I have to go back to when I was 17. I was living above a chip shop in Bermondsey when a Polish truck driver threw up in the back of my van on the way to a Turkish wedding, and, thinking he was going to die, told me something he would never divulge to anyone but his closest family. But he told me. And you know what? It was the biggest pile of crap I've ever heard, but he had a cute sister, and soon me and his sister were watching black and white movies without sound with some fellow in front of us making a ridiculous amount of noise with a bag of seeds. But one thing he did divulge was that The Shaker Makers were on their way. Then I met Tseb Egroeg...

Eveything changed with Tseb. He was street, sharp, shapely, sorted, slovenly, septic, Scottish, Serbian, severe, second, swarfega, and, above all, ship-shape. He knew the ropes, and they were everywhere: ships, leisure centres, even shops. We had a whirlwind time: we met girls, men and animals. Some of them became friends, some of them were animals, but we knew that already. We lived from day to day, sometimes from week to week, occasionally from year to year, but always with an ear to the ground, nose to the grindstone and a foot in the door. Me and Tseb were inseperable until I grassed on him in 1979. He'd have done the same, it was just the times.

It was then, I'm proud to say, I met (sire) Lord Sir of Dulwich (Oomph plc) GBH DFC, QC and MD of Oomph Holdings, married to the delightful Prosepha Cashmachine-Pin-8766 of the Googly family, and, significantly, their daughter Prosepha The Second Cashmachine-Pin-8766 (cleverly, of course, their real PIN number is 8765!), to whom I rapidly became infected. Now, you're thinking I accidently said 'infected' instead of 'infatuated', but funnily enough we were both struck down with 'flu chez Cashmachine-Pin-8766's house and were doted on for some time and I had a good line in posh chat from the times I had spent with Tseb.

It was not to last, however. The Cashmachine-Pin-8766 family were sadly forced to move to a St Moritz gulag on the Riviera after an unfortunate incident with ...