One of the clubs I once created was Sundissential in Birmingham. To be honest with you, after four years, the two two pricks I went into business with just made my skin crawl and I walked. Anyway, that’s enough of Madders and Danny. But let’s go back to Ibiza two years ago. Whilst one of the boys above was getting off his head every day (Madders), Danny (pretty prima donna who thought the world owed him everything). So I booked an amazing villa in Ibiza where all our Sundissential staff would stay for our huge party at Space and Eden. So the night before, I rocked off to Le Elephant for a bit of food, skirted down to KM5 for a couple of drinks and then returned to the villa. Driving up the dusty road back up the hill in San Joan, my girlfriend screamed. In the middle of the road was a body. It was Madders. Out of it. f*cked. It took thirty minutes to get him into the car. He thought he was in Wolverhampton. Back at the villa his mate had turned up and had walked though a French Window off his box trying to get in. His arm was hanging off and it was either an Air Ambulance or me driving him to the hospital. The walls looked liked a Damien Hurst exhibition. One bloody car drive later – and somehow finding a Spanish glazier the next day, I decided to just f*ck off home after spent the wee hours wiping blood off walls kicking the shit out of a Birmingham promoter (guess who) before putting my seat belt on and reading a crap magazine and going 30,000 feet up…
