|ISBN: 1902578139 Hardback
RRP£14.99 Mono stills
FOREWORD BY STING - Serilalised
in The News of the World.
only biography to receive the full approval of Sting and with the foreword
contributed by Sting this is a must-have for any self respecting Sting
fan. Eye-wateringly funny it tells of the bizarrness of what it's like
to have a world famous rock star as a friend. Written by Jim Berryman,
Sting's friend of some 37 years, it is so funny and full of tales of on
course betting, read of the day Jim hoodwinked Sting into attending the
races with him and the promised hotel turned out to be a tent on a nearby
golf course. World famous Sting sleeping in a tent, never!
Sting and Jim
grew up together, went to school together and still to this day are the
best of mates. Not a kiss and tell book by no means but not a suck
up and kiss book either. Jim says that he's the altogether better
singer and compares Sting's singing to that of a wounded wilder beast!
Acclaimed by the official Sting fan club and a whole host of newspapers.
Sting starred in the film "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels". .
"Jim Berryman once told me, after a particularly bad day at the race-track,
that he felt so low he wanted to hang himself and would I lend him the
money so he could buy himself the rope." Already acclaimed by Journalists
and the ‘Outlandos Fan Club’ on the Web Jim Berryman has a flair and talent
for holding your attention through the short, succinct and often very funny
chapters of this book.
look at his friendship with Sting is explored from Schooldays right up
to the time of Sting being wedded to Trudie Styler and beyond. Jim and
Sting have remained friendly despite the gap between wealth and happiness.
It was at Sting’s prompting that Jim penned this biography, which tracks
their friendship through thick and thin from the school playing fields
to their days as trainee warehousemen.
When Jim meets
Dustin Hoffman and Tom Hanks by the poolside at Sting’s mansion it seems
that their differing worlds are about to collide, but Jim is so funny at
this meeting: “You two look like you’re ready to take the plunge?” He says
nodding towards the swimming pool. One of the yanks replied: “I think he’s
already married.” Jim goes on to write, ‘They both departed so I picked
up another glass of Krug. I was more used to Newcastle Brown Ale. I lived
in Newcastle upon Tyne on a housing estate and I didn’t have a brass farthing.’
insight into Sting’s rise through the ranks from his schooldays to playing
at seedy jazz clubs on Tyneside to eventual stardom. An odder couple couldn’t
be more likely than the author and Sting. Every chapter, all forty-one
of them, has something to make you laugh. Jim Berryman might stand accused
of patronising Sting, but he pulls no punches when he says he’s the better
singer between the two. The rainforest-loving Sting is also accused of
pampering to his fans when in the past, Jim says, sting would have had
no time for such burning issues.
Fan Club) on the web, March 2000
funny, a must have for any Sting fan'.
converted in to 12 part TV series (comedy drama)
UK TV celebrities
Ant & Dec shun Sting script!
related newsapaper cutting
In this authorized
biography, James Berrymore writes about his lifelong friendship with the
rock star Sting, from their school days onwards.
FROM THE PUBLISHER
This book is
award-winning stuff. Our editor couldn’t put it down once he’d started
reading it; our book reader wouldn’t return the only manuscript, which
we needed for extracts, until she had fully read and digested it all. Serialised
in two UK national newspapers and featured as Night & Day mags book
of the week also featured on the Richard & Judy show and featured in
an Irish national Sunday newspaper.
FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER
To the right
of the driveway lay a full-sized cricket pitch in immaculate condition.
At the bottom of the drive stood ‘The House’, a nineteenth century building.
The priests who taught at the school lived there. This also encapsulated
the Chapel, and the Headmaster’s Study. A little way from ‘The House’ was
the main school building. Erected in the 1920’s, it consisted of about
twenty classrooms, either side of a narrow corridor, which led to an old-fashioned
hall, which was also lined by classes on each side. Past the hall were
two more classrooms separated by a cloakroom. At the rear of the main building
was a recently erected modern structure, complete with a large assembly
hall with adjacent chemistry and physics laboratories.
A few steps
from the main building was the playground, adorned with metal five-a-side
goalposts at each end. It didn’t look big enough to accommodate 1200 or
so potential players of a lunch time kick-around, and so it proved. Beyond
the schoolyard were the main playing-fields, on the opposite side of the
school building to the cricket pitch.
On these fields
stood five full-size football pitches in descending order of merit. The
best, which was hardly ever played on, was at the top, nearest the school.
At the bottom of the field, the last pitch boasted an enormous oak tree,
just to the left of the penalty-spot. Apparently the tree was the leading
goal-scorer in the ‘under-thirteen’ games for many years.
There was an
antiquated gymnasium next to the playing fields, and for my first year
at the school it also doubled as the dining room while a new one was being
built. I learned that it was particularly important to be vigilant in the
first Games lesson after lunch, as a squashed pea on the gym floor could
have devastating consequences. It was hopelessly ill equipped as both a
gymnasium and a dining room.
the school building, Michael dropped me like a hot potato. I was on my
own now. I found what I thought was the correct classroom and stood outside.
I could see that I was not the only newcomer who looked and felt like an
outcast. Many young faces looked tear-stained and afraid. I could only
gaze with wide-eyes at the older boys. I found it impossible to believe
that some of them were of school age. Many of them looked like they needed
a shave - I mused to myself.
to a fellow sufferer, “Look at him. Just get those great big sideboards.”
My young friend nervously looked around for the furniture then, even more
nervously moved slowly away from me. “Oh absolutely, old chap,” he muttered
as he left, thinking that I was hallucinating. ‘Sideboards’ we called them
in Longbenton. ‘Mutton-chop side whiskers’ to this lad, perhaps, would
have made more sense.
past the short-trousered brigade hoping to find anyone who looked like
they might not faint at the mention of the word ‘fart’.
hate this place already” I heard a kindred soul say, and I immediately
stuck to him like fluff to a boiled sweet.
“Is this ‘Form
1’?” I asked my fellow inmate, knowing full well that it wasn’t.
slowly in a kind of Western drawl, “YUP”
“No, it isn’t,”
“So, whit yu
asking me fur, stranger?” He replied,
“Are you pretending
to be a cowboy?” I asked innocently.
“YUP.” He laughed.
doing it since I got here, and you’re the first to notice. Well done,”
the lad said to me. I was shitting myself, and here was someone who couldn’t
give a toss. I was well impressed.
I knew this wasn’t ‘Form 1’, but I just wanted to talk to someone who didn’t
seem to be speaking with a mouthful of gobstoppers.” He laughed again and
I felt at ease for the first time that day.
The lad was
tall for his twelve years and fair-haired. He had a serious face, with
a steady gaze that was contradictory to his obvious sense of fun. Although
so young, he was already handsome in a rugged way, and looked two years
older than the rest of the first-years I had seen that morning. His hair
was longer than anyone else’s was; finished with an exaggerated quiff that
was the height of 60’s fashion. His uniform looked out of place on him,
hanging like an onion sack, but he didn’t care. You could just tell.
“Yeah, there are a canny few toffee-nosed buggers knocking around here.”
“Not me, though,”
I very quickly confirmed. “I’m from Longbenton.”
the lad replied. We had already hit common ground. Wallsend was as working-class
Jim, Jim Berryman.” I introduced myself to Blondie, poking out a hand that
he took and shook warmly. Curiously he appeared both cocky and nervous
at the same time, his tie was already undone and he was chewing bubble
gum, which we were to learn, was tantamount to stabbing a nun. “Pleased
to met you, Jim,” said the lad, “my name’s Gordon Sumner”.
over, we went on to agree what an absolute dump we thought the place was.
are you in?” I asked the new boy.
“1 C” he replied.
“I’m in form
1”, I said, disappointed that I would not be joining my new pal in class.
The streaming for that first term was simply done alphabetically. With
me being a ‘B’ and he an ‘S’ we would not be joining up just yet.
bell rang out to signal the start of a less than inspiring academic career
for both myself and as it turned out, the tall fair-haired Wallsend kid,
'the boy who would be Sting'.
“See you around,
bonny lad,” said Sting going off to 1 C. Little did I realise that we would
be seeing each other around for the next thirty-odd years - some of them
very odd years.
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