Further back in time, we now head to 2018, and Roger Waters’ tour Us and Them (or Pus and Phlegm, as Michelangelo’s younger brother Clark (not his real name) called it.)
This chapter may be somewhat controversial and may put some fans’ nose out of joint. It also may embarrass somebody I have a ton of respect for. I’m sorry if this happens but I’m going to tell the story as accurately as I can and leave it for readers to come to their own conclusions.
Back in 2007 Julie and I, with Dilbert and a friend of his, Huckelbury (not his real name) had a week long holiday in Queensland, Australia. During this time I was able to pay a surprise visit to the home of A Fleeting Glimpse founder Colin Turner.
I owed Col some money and went there to settle the debt. I knocked on the front door, which was soon opened by Col’s wife Charlene (not her real name). Unfortunately Col was in bed sick at the time, so I gave the money and a note for Col to Charlene and left.
Up until this time Col and I had never spoken to each other, though we had exchanged several thousand emails. But shortly after I left, my phone rang and it was Col.
His first ever words to me? “You bastard!”
We had a quick chat and arranged for me to come back to his house in a couple of days’ time.
When I did so Col was recovered from his man-flu. He showed me his Pink Floyd memorabilia and the inner-workings of the AFG website.
One of the topics of conversation was his meetings with Roger Waters. To that point these were in 2002 and 2007, which are on display on the Home Page.
I mentioned that Roger looked as enthused as someone who’d just been to the dentist and had all four wisdom teeth extracted without anesthetic. Col was clearly disappointed in Roger’s expression, but I can honestly report he didn’t bag him out in any way.
The following year Col met Roger again, and Roger’s demeanor was even meaner.
Without trawling through mountains of correspondence I feel certain that I emailed Col giving Roger an absolute pasting over this second-in-a-row miserable photo op, with a fan who for so many years had tirelessly promoted him.
Still Col stuck up for Roger, showing a character and integrity far, far deeper than my own.
But then came 2018, and the Pus and Phlegm tour. Roger was playing two nights in Brisbane before heading south for two shows in Melbourne (my neck of the woods).
I had had no intention of going to Pus and Phlegm. I had not spent any money on Roger since seeing him at Hyde Park Calling in 2006, and was determined to keep that record intact. Especially after Michelangelo had leant me a copy of Is This The Life We Really Want? to have a listen to. There’s SO MUCH I could say, but all I will say is that I call it Is This The ALBUM We Really Want?
It just so happened that Dilbert came across some very, very cheap seats near the stage for the Melbourne show. Clearly these seats had been way too expensive initially, and nobody was buying them. I could imagine Roger fuming at the damage it would do to his ego performing in front of half a dozen empty rows…at the foot of the stage, and demanding that they be filled even if it meant slashing the price.
Left is a promo pic for the Pus and Phlegm tour.
He looks such a happy chappy.
Either someone had told him nobody was buying his
front row tickets or he thought Col Turner was
standing next to him!
My friend Michelangelo had seen the show in Toronto, Canada, and said it was very Animals-based (an album we love) and that there wasn’t a lot of the new album in it. He also mentioned the Battersea Power Station suspended over the audience, which was pretty spectacular.
I was still unenthusiastic but Dilbert really wanted to go. I didn’t want to be a party pooper, so reluctantly agreed to shell out the fifteen bucks for the tickets. (not their real cost)
I emailed Col Turner telling him I was … ugh… going to Pus and Phlegm. He emailed back saying he was going to the show on the 6th with a front row seat, dead centre, also that he was going as Roger’s guest on the 7th and would be seeing him back stage.
This is my reply to Col’s email: “I’m really happy for you that you’ll be meeting and greeting him again, but pleeeeease can you ask him to smile if you get to have a photo taken with him? Surely that’s not too much to ask. He may have sore facial muscles the next morning, but it’s the least he can do for someone who has so tirelessly promoted him for the last twenty years!”
The Brisbane shows came and went. I kept checking A Fleeting Glimpse for Col’s report, but none was forthcoming.
Then it was our turn, February 10, 2018. Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne.
Dilbert and I took our seats and looked up at the huge screen across the back of the stage. Our seats were at the right as you look at the stage, in front of the drum kit.
A video started playing of a woman sitting on a beach. It kept playing… and playing… and playing. 
Nothing was happening.
Picture courtesy of Michelangelo,
taken at Toronto concert
Dilbert started getting a little nervous worrying that his dad, who didn’t really want to be there in the first place, was finding this whole “woman on the beach” thing rather tedious.
He was right to be nervous. I did the Homer Simpson bit and yelled out,
… a few times.
Eventually the show got under way. It was good, but far from great.
Roger’s choice of musicians was curious. Maybe someone can enlighten me as to what happened to drummer Graham Broad, but his replacement Joey Waronker was…
No, I can’t do it. I can’t say what I want to say. Joey might be the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. (Sorry Dilbert, we’ll just keep it between us, ok.)
But Graham Broad! Oh MAN! He is one of the best drummers I’ve ever seen, and he’s been pretty much the highlight of all the Waters concerts I’ve been to. His absence left a massive hole.
And the long-haired guitarist who sang Dogs! Sang? Nah, he pretty much whispered it. I’m not sure if he heard me when I yelled out, “A little scar tissue on the vocal chords wouldn’t go astray, mate!”
And the girls with the wigs? And the kids with the “RESIST” t-shirts dancing? What was all that about?
But hang on; isn’t this supposed to be about me upsetting Roger? Yes it is, and I do. But as it turns out, I already HAD! I’ll explain.
What’s that song where Roger sings, “Come on honey, it’s real money”? I really can’t be bothered looking it up. Well, right at that point Roger was standing over on our side of the stage. He looked straight at me and I saw this mortified gaze grip his face as the recognition hit…
“It’s the Magoolie!”
Picture at left taken moments before Roger recognized me in the crowd.
As he sang that line he bent forward, looking me right in the eye, gesturing with his hand like he was asking me to come towards him. I folded my arms across my chest and with a stern expression shook my head in firm refusal.
I have scoured YouTube looking for videos of that night’s show, hoping that someone had captured that moment. I wanted Roger to know not everyone at Rod Laver Arena thought he was Mr. Wonderful.
Little did I know, and it was probably lucky for Roger, me and Dilbert that I didn’t know, but three nights earlier I had played a bit part in getting Roger madder than he was at the collapse of Norton Warburg!
As we all know, sadly, watching that sixteen second-long video of Col Turner and his good friend Michael meeting Waters back stage in Brisbane, Roger was apparently unaware that a meet and greet had been scheduled at that time.
He came down the corridor in a foul mood and confronted the pair quite rudely. Col, anticipating yet more miserable memorabilia, remembered my advice and asked Roger if he could smile for the photo. This peed Roger right off, and you can hear him bite back with, “Don’t #$%@ around alright, please! No, I’m serious. Yeah I can smile; I’ve been smiling all my life.”
The good thing for me was it was obvious to Col from the start that this was not going to be a nice meeting, so he knew it would make little difference if he released just one more hornet up Roger’s already flared nostril!
As much as I do take some perverse pleasure in Col asking Roger to smile, I am absolutely gutted for him and his friend Michael, who was struggling enough as it was getting backstage crippled with psoriatic arthritis, that these two die-hard fans had to suffer such appalling treatment through absolutely no fault of their own.