What's left of a ticket to see ACR and The Jazz Defektors at The Ritz in '86.
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“Now I'm in my anecdote-age I thought I remember seeing ACR at the Ritz, of which John Cooper Clarke wrote his poem, Salome Malone, on a wet Wednesday night in 1985, a pound to get in to see A Certain Ratio play a few promotional numbers, and then a disco, and, included in the entry price, a bottle of Holsten Pils, on the door, I guess so that everyone in the place was at least armed with a bottle for glassing purposes. It was the 80s, and the doctrine of mutually assured destruction was perhaps assumed to keep the peace. The dance hall had seen better days, and was somewhat down-at-heel, the paint was peeling off the walls, but it was so dark one could hardly see, walking across the sticky carpet to the sprung dance floor, where one would strut one's funky stuff. I was impressed by the cheap price, being, as my Wigan mate called me, "Tight as a fish's arse." Obviously, I could be mistaken as you can imagine being a Computer Science student my life was a blur of drugs and logic. Can any”
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