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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- THERE IS MUCH MORE TO THIS PART OF THE STORY THAN THE BRIEF OUTLINE ON THIS PAGE. BUT IF I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING NOW, THEN YOU WOULDN'T NEED THE FUCKIN' BOOK WOULD YOU? EH! Mmm! EH!! I'M NOT AS STUPID AS YOU LOOK!!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Animal/Vikings were a Stockport based mcc, who used to meet in a watering hole just off the town centre called the Inn With A Chance. The original Animals were around at the back end of the 70s and used to fly just a Red on White top rocker, until a visit from the Warlords caused most of them to 'Reconsider their options', and ride off into the sunset in search of safer pastimes. Arab the one remaining Animal carried on alone until the Warlords caught up with him one night in the Brookfield pub in Stockport. As luck would have it, the pub was packed full of his friends and acquaintances!!!. Before the Warlords left however, they did point out that while it may be his lucky night that night, it wouldn't always be so. So Arab not being a moron, decided to call it a day.
1982. And the new A/Vs had been up and running for a while when one night, Bleep, Noddy, Morph and Mugsy walked into the pub. They had heard there was something going on in Stockport, and had come to 'check out' the A/Vs. The fact that they were seriously outnumbered didn't seen to bother them in the least. As it turned out, this was the entire Sons of Hell and though the A/Vs didn't know it at the time, the rest of the North West Alliance wasn't in much better shape. The Dragons were down to two members, the Devils Disciples weren't much better off than the Sons, and you had to go all the way to Wales if you wanted to see a Henchman. Still, you wouldn't have known any of this from the attitude of the Sons as the four of them completely dominated the pub that night. They impressed the fuck out of me. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Not all the Animal/Vikings are on this picture, and not all of those who are went on to join the Sons. From left to right there's Old man River who didn't. Alan who didn't join at the time but did a few years later. Arab who did. Fledge who wasn't actually a member of the A/Vs and so didn't. Trog did. Gonzo did, and John who did but left after a few weeks. (Actually John's son Pilky is a long standing member of the Sons Cheshire Chapter and runs the Clubs main website). The other members who joined at the time but are not in this picture are myself and Loads. (piks below)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- LIFE'S A FUNNY THING. THERE YOU ARE ENJOYING IT TO THE FULL, RIDING AROUND THE COUNTRYSIDE IN THE SUNSHINE, ENJOYING WHOLESOME PICNICS AND OTHER SUCH GOD FEARING SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE GROUP ACTIVITIES. COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF THE STORM CLOUDS GATHERING ON THE HORIZON, AND HEADING YOUR WAY. BRINGING WITH THEM A DEMONIC ENTITY THAT HAD ONCE SUCKLED AT THE SATANIC BREAST OF DARK MOTHER EVIL HERSELF. "I WANT TO JOIN YOUR CLUB" Said Dusty, as he stomped into the meeting. "I don't mind prospecting" (well that's kind of you, thought I, but didn't say anything in case he turned nasty) "but I'm not having any of your abuse nonsense". (Silence!) "I'll be in the pub around the corner when your ready", and stomped out again.
Actually the 'pub around the corner' wasn't one we had ever used, and as luck would have it, wasn't 'Biker friendly'. It was the haunt of lots of aging Skinhead Manchester United fans, and old adversaries of the biking community. So halfway down his pint a hand appeared on his arm, and a voice in his ear said "when you've finished your pint you'd better leave". So Dusty finished his pint, and taking into consideration his total isolation in an extremely hostile environment, did the sensible thing, and ordered another pint!! He never got the chance to taste that one when a blow to the side of the head knocked him flying, and he was carried from the pub and thrown out into the street. To this day he still believes we set him up?? as if!! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- LIFER'S Back Patch club member's come and go. It's just something in the nature of anyone who would want to be in a motorcycle gang in the first place that makes it so. Some join for excitement, or power, or protection, or they're looking for somewhere to just fit in. Whatever the reason, most of them stay for two or three years, until whatever restless spirit is inside them moves them on to whatever?. Then there's the one's that find a home. They find a place amongst like minded people who they can rely on to be there in any crisis, and who in turn, can rely on them. It's a place where the words 'Friend' and 'Trust' actually mean something. It's a rare thing to find and not something to give up lightly. Besides, it's fucking good fun!! LIFERS GALLERY.
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Meanwhile, the plot was thickening! The main body of Animals had reappeared, without the top rocker and with Vikings mysteriously tagged onto the name, and asked Arab (pictured left) to rejoin them as their glorious leader!. He it turn told them to "Fuck off!#*!##?", and went along his merry way. The Manchester connection, and ultimate destruction of the old A/Vs came through Alan (below left). He was riding around Stockport one night like Billy no mates, when he spotted a bike parked up outside the Manchester Arms. So he stopped for a pint and ended up enrolled as a full member of the A/Vs that very night.
Bad move on their part!! As he was soon joined by his mates from Manchester, Loads, Gonzo, Trog and others. A coup d'etat quickly followed and the first order of business for the freshly imported Mancunian thugs was to throw out all the women members, quickly followed by anyone they didn't like. Once the majority of the old membership had gone, Arab reappeared and joined, and it was my friendship with Gonzo that brought me into the fold not long after that.
Gonzo and Fledge had both been members of the One Percent MC, based at the 10/10 cafe on Stockport Rd in the late 60s. Scouse who ran the 10/10 and was their president, had tried to revive the 1%ers in the early 80s but had to abandon his plans in the face of some strong opposition from the established clubs in Manchester. 
Prior to joining the A/Vs,
'CHEEKY BASTARD' Well you've got to give a bloke like that a chance haven't you? so off we went to the pub. We called him Dusty because he was a Binman at the time, although that job didn't last long when he caused the bin wagon he was travelling in to crash into a tree, after he punched the driver in the face for calling him a Hells Angel, thereby writing off both the bin wagon and his job. 
Since we're on the subject of 'cheeky bastards' Say hello to Fly. He was a cheeky little bastard who hung about with the A/Vs, then he was a cheeky little bastard who hung about with the Sons, then he was a cheeky little bastard who prospected for the Sons. Actually Fly holds the record for 'longest time prospecting' it was just over two years before we figured out that the cheeky little bastard wasn't going to go away, and made him a full member. He left the club in 1989 after he got sent to prison for doing some serious damage to someone who'd upset him (if you want details you'll have to ask him yourself, just don't upset him!). Today he's a cheeky big bastard and is back with us.
HE'S UGLY BUT HE'S GOT A BIG CHOPPER!!
There are other members in the club today who 
