Barson - Before we was we: the making of Madness by Madness

LEE KIX THOMPSON : In 1970 I would have been living on the Holly Lodge Estate in Highgate. From day dot till 67, 68, when we moved to Holly Lodge, we were next door to Denyer House, off Highgate Road. But even in 70, I used to spend more time meeting old pals at Denyer. Id walk the distance, the mile, mile-and-a-half from Holly Lodge to Denyer House, because that was where our playground was, Tammo Land. It was a big, bombed-out place the Jerrys done in the war. An old electrical plant, and they obviously had these pinpointed. There were unexploded bombs found in the ground there in the mid-seventies. Back then it had corrugated iron up around it to stop us urchins playing there dancing about on fucking unexploded bombs. That was sort of my hangout.

Funnily enough, The Kinks did a video there for Dead End Street, down the alleyway, underneath this tunnel, carrying a coffin, past Denyer House in 66. So, they would have been walking past my house when I was eight or nine, and Id never even heard of them. Then they filmed a bit down Little Green Street, in the little houses there. The doors are only about four foot high, because the houses are so old, and people were shorter then.

My earliest memory of taking something that wasnt mine was a lollipop, in the old corner shop down in Highgate Road. My mum and dad asked me where Id got the money for it, and I told them that Id pinched it from the corner sweet shop. They made me go back there and tell the shopkeeper, who was a sort of overgrown old Benny Hill-looking feller. He said, Good for being honest; there you go, have it back. Why I did it, I dont know. What makes you turn into a dishonest person? I suppose some people see how far they can push it.

My mum was the complete opposite. She could not stand anything like that. She came from a very straight family. She was extremely straight and honest.

Dad was into warehouses and safe-cracking and parcels, as they call it. Finding the keys to a lorry, normally round about Christmas, with all the electrical goods and cigarettes and alcohol on. Which is normally an inside job, half the time. He had a lot of friends that came round who looked like the type of people you wouldnt want to meet down a dark alley.

I didnt really see much of him. I can count on my fingers the sort of things that he taught us. Do it at night and do it alone. That was one of his things. Dont get caught. If you cant be good, be careful. If you cant be careful, watch out. That old clich. He was away quite a lot. The main memories I have were going away at Christmas and Easter and summer holidays, to Great Yarmouth, where all his family lived. Or swimming, cinema and going to visit him in Parkhurst.

My mum used to say, If anyone asks you, say your dads working away on the oil rigs, earning good money. What, with gelignite? Oh, he was on the oil rigs I swear I swear, Your Honour, he was on the oil rigs. It was too embarrassing for her. If I came home with something to put on the table, shed half say, You shouldnt be doing this. Youll land up like your dad. But yeah, wed have it for supper that evening.

I was earning pocket money my way. I werent going to sit on the corner, begging. Mind you, I did dress up as Guy Fawkes once, outside my local sweet shop. I was the only mug up for it, and I near enough got my foot burned off. Someone went and set alight to my shoes. Of course, youve got the Guy Fawkes mask on, but I felt heat down below. I had plimsolls on. I smell rubber, I look down, next thing, Im stamping my foot. I think we made about five or six shillings or whatever.

My first court appearance was in the summer holidays of 69, when I was 11. First burglary. A house set back on Highgate Road. That was just walk in literally back when you could leave your doors open. I went in and just stole some bits and bobs. I know there was some jewellery involved. Terrible. Probably some mothers, grandmothers, daughters.

We got caught, my mate Bob Townsend and myself. We were picked up, put in the car, because I had a pocket full of jewellery. Then I met who I assume was the owner, who was obviously relieved that shed got her stuff back. But that was it. Our first appearance at Seymour Place Court for Juveniles.

MIKE BARSO BARSON : I grew up in north Kentish Town, off Highgate Road. When I was born, in Edinburgh, my mum had just separated from my father. He went off with one of his students. He was an art school teacher in Edinburgh and one of the students came onto him. Sixteen, eighteen, maybe she was. Hes married with two kids and his wifes pregnant with a third one. Anyway, he decides that this little hot chickadeedoo is worth more than his kids and his marriage, so he starts something with her. My mums in the hospital having me, and then this young girl was pregnant as well, so hes suddenly having two, right at the same time. Then he leaves my mum while shes in hospital having me. He got into a scandal and he buggered off then. So, we moved back to London after that.

My mother initially started living with friends in the Euston area, in Robert Street, when we were very young, me and my two older brothers. It was right in front of this big housing estate and it was pretty rough round there. One time my brother was getting chased by a load of kids, because we were new in the neighbourhood. He went and hid in a big bin container under all this cardboard. One of the kids found him and started pissing on the cardboard. Hes under there and theres all this piss coming down. So, it was pretty rough.

My brother had a friend and they both climbed up onto the slanted glass roof of Euston station. His mate was one of these crazy kids who was into daring. The glass gave in and my brother saw his mate fall to his death on the platform below. Nobody really asked him what happened and I dont think he said anything. He carried that around with him, that sort of traumatic experience.

I was pretty young then, and my grandmother gave my mother some money to buy a house in Chetwynd Road, near Highgate Road, quite close to Hampstead Heath. She thought the nature would be good for the kids. Thats where I spent my youth, really. Back in the seventies, I suppose there was much more equality in society, and there were beautiful houses that were not necessarily expensive. Kentish Town was totally different from now. Its really busy down there now, millions of parked cars. But then, it was quite spacious, and youd get to know all the kids across the road. Everybody knew each other.

My mum was a teacher. Teaching difficult kids. She was stuck with three kids of her own, because my dad had fucked off, so she had to make ends meet. London County Council were offering reasonable pay and reasonable holidays and there was a push to get more teachers. I guess she wanted to teach art, because shed always wanted to be an artist. She trained to do that, and then she turned out to be helping difficult kids, which is interesting, seeing as me and my mates all turned out to be difficult kids.

Primary school for me was Brookfield, near Highgate Cemetery. We had a very nice science teacher. She was somebody who seemed to really want to make it interesting, and she was interested in the kids. Thinking back now, I guess the kids responded to that and it was quite an enjoyable class. Whereas some of the teachers were just horrible and some were nutcases. One time this supply teacher was walking around with these high-heeled shoes on, and something happened that she didnt like. Everybody had to shut up and she was walking up and down with these shoes, clack, clack. Every now and then she would whack someone on the head. Even then, it became a big scandal. She was just completely barmy and thats the fucking teacher