It’s that time of the week again when our resident blogger talks all things classic rock as Self Made Man takes centre stage.

This week he takes a familiar trip down memory lane – transporting us back to a time when it was cool to turn up to a pub looking like Angus Young… 

Wednesday nights at the Gosforth Hotel circa 1982. Oh the memories.
That was disco night or to be more precise, heavy rock night. Upstairs, away from the normal people.
In a room that Sting had apparently played with his first band before graduating to slightly bigger venues with The Police.
I can still picture the DJ now. Cowboy hat, leather jacket, boots and a Lemmy-style beard. No warts, mind you.
And the music? Well, basically he played anything requested although he did have his own particular favourites.
For some reason Molly Hatchet’s Boogie No More was a regular as was the early Iron Maiden instrumental Transylvania.
Then there was AC/DC. Cue a handful of would-be Angus Young’s strutting their stuff on the cramped dance floor.
On one occasion, a mate of mine actually arrived in his school uniform, satchel and all. But this was a night when embarrassment and self-consciousness went by the wayside.
We were all of a kind so basically it didn’t matter that the vast majority made complete tits of themselves.
This was disco night with a difference _ and not just because the music was different. For lads outnumbered lasses roughly 40 to one.
Sometimes, well actually, mostly,no girls turned up and if they did, it was always on the arm of some gorilla.
Wednesday ngihts, therefore, weren’t exactly pulling nights. It was more a case of getting pissed, hanging out with the lads and listening to decent music.
Now the Stage Door was different. Very different. At this venue, if you didn’t pull, there was something wrong with you.
It’s where the nurses used to hang out. At least, all the girls used to say they were nurses because it sounded more alluring to testosterone-fuelled adolescents.
And let’s face it, we boys weren’t exactly paragons of virtue when it came to telling the truth when chatting up a girl.
The Stage Door was a popular haunt not just because of these “nurses” but because you could gain entry without being dressed to the nines.
And the music wasn’t too bad either. Of course, there was the obligatory disco, some reggae and punk.
But they also played stuff like the Rolling Stones, Meatloaf, The Doors, Led Zeppelin and AC/DC.
And every night at midnight without fail, Cockney Rebels’ Make Me Smile beamed out of the speakers.
An excellent song I grant you but midnight? Far too late.
For it you’d played your cards right in the previous two hours, then you were ensconsed in the quiet room upstairs with some “nurse” making you smile!
Ian Murtagh