Jack Dempsey

jackJack Dempsey
Jack Dempsey knows the London Tube Map like the back of the hand he strums with.  In 1978, with Great Britain’s Winter Of Discontent in full swing, Dempsey stepped into a life of excess.

It was the Counter Culture, freedom was a-foot and the times were a-changin’. He was doing his bit for the sexual revolution. Doing his best to get into the free-love thing. Strictly duty of course. It was just about compulsory to have three lovers on the go. That was as good as he ever got. Open relationships, threesomes – he never could get past three in a bed.  He was ready for his second attempt at an orgy.

Then he met Luci. There she was in a tatty long black velvet dress, lips pursed, sucking in the last little bit of a rolled up joint. They looked at each other and the air between them started vibrating. They knew they’d be in the sack before long. And that was that. She was 19 and there was no other lover. Everything became Luci and they bolted their guitars to their backs and took off on their magnificent flying carpet.

He’d seen a busker at London Bridge Underground, gathered up his courage, jumped the barrier to get into the station, threw his guitar case on the ground and did some quiet fingerpicking.  A coin drops in.  Then another.  Next thing you know, he makes enough to buy milk for his tea.  A guitar-strumming, hat-passing hippie star was born.

They toured through France, Ireland, Wales and Cornwall. Tip Me, You Wanker! is his fictionalized memoir.  The road of excess led to the palace of wisdom.

Jack’s Writings:

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