” “Right Daisy; back to work, relax and think of the future good time; and the money. I’ll let you know when anything changes.” As Daisy left ...he room she said, “I can’t believe that I’m doing this.” Later that day I spoke to Tim and asked if the announcement about Daisy could happen at the next monthly meeting which was in 2 weeks. “Will she be ready by then?” Tim asked. “No, it will be a case of jumping in at the deep end. She’ll be mortified at the time but an hour later she’ll wonder what. It was April or May, 1977. (Or it might have been 1978. I don't know. I don't keep a diary.) They were playing at some dump in Tampa, of all places. About half-an-hour into the show, some fat asshole in the back yelled, "Go fuck yourselves, faggots!" Before I tell you what happened next, let me tell you about what Suicide shows were like in the early-to-mid Seventies. Picture two leather-clad guys, one scowling and torturing an organ, the other striding around like some Fifties housewife's. More

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