![]() That was around this same time, when I was twenty-something and going out on the moped from my dad’s house to Betty’s house. I did once have an accident in Liverpool where I fell off a moped and busted my lip open, and we had to get the doctor round to my cousin Betty’s house. And then it became seen as a kind of revolutionary idea, that young men of our age definitely ought to grow a moustache! And it all fell in with the Sgt Pepper thing, because he had a droopy moustache. It caught on with the guys in the group: if one of us did something like growing his hair long and we liked the idea, we’d all tend to do it. So I started to grow a moustache – a sort of Sancho Panza – mainly to cover where my lip had been sewn. ![]() It was pretty embarrassing, because around that time you knew your pictures would get winged off to teeny-boppery magazines like 16, and it was pretty difficult to have a new picture taken with a big fat lip. In fact that was why I started to grow a moustache. I was standing there while he rethreaded it and pulled it through again. He was shaking a bit, but got it all the way through, and then he said, ‘Oh, the thread’s just come out – I’ll have to do it again!’ No anaesthetic. He came round on the spot, took a needle out and, after great difficulty threading it, put it in the first half of the wound. So she rang a friend of hers who was a doctor. She creased up laughing at first, but then she went ‘Holy…!’ I’d really given my face a good old smack it looked like I’d been in the ring with Tyson for a few rounds. When I said, ‘Don’t worry, Bett, but I’ve had a bit of an accident,’ she thought I was joking. But I got up and we went along to my cousin’s house. I said something about the moon and he said ‘yeah’, and I suddenly had a freeze-frame image of myself at that angle to the ground when it’s too late to pull back up again: I was still looking at the moon and then I looked at the ground, and it seemed to take a few minutes to think, ‘Ah, too bad – I’m going to smack that pavement with my face!’ Bang! He was behind me, and it was an incredible full moon it really was huge. I had a couple of mopeds on hire, so we hit upon the bright idea of going to my cousin Bett’s house. He came up to visit me in Liverpool once when I was there seeing my dad and brother. I’d see him from time to time, and enjoyed being around him. I had a very good friend who lived in London called Tara Browne, a Guinness heir – a nice Irish guy, very sensitive bloke. I had an accident when I came off a moped in Wirral, near Liverpool.
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