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I went to Sheila Elliott-Clarke School in Rodney Street and often walked past Pete Burns on Bold Street, he and his cronies would laugh at us in our maroon hats with a yellow band in winter and straw boaters and white gloves in summe; always with enormous bags on our backs packed with school books and dance wear. Then I moved to London, worked at Harvey Nick’s in Knightsbridge… low and behold who comes striding through the perfumery but Pete Burns and his bunch of cronies. It’s a kind of nothing story but it’s made me smile on reflection.

Worth mentioning that Mellina's book "Total Stranger: The Unseen Photographs of Pete Burns and Dead or Alive 1978-1983" (Paperback) is available from Cafe Tabac and Waterstones?

Lovely piece Melissa, really enjoyed it. And oh yes I remember Pete Burns. It was his Nightmare in Wax Days. Me and my friends who were punks at the time received tongue lashings occasionally from him in the various bars or clubs we hung around in. I remember having a tug of war with his wife in 69a when it was up Mount Pleasant. It was over a shark skin coat we both picked at the same time on a rack, she won because I was scared of them both. 😂

Excellent article.

Nice piece Melissa Lynn is wife lived a few doors up from me when we were kids in Kenny she and Pete were a little older than me and my mates this was around the mid 70s i would remember playing footie in the street and Pete would walk up to her house in like Adam Ant style outfits we would skit at him but he would come out with a load of abuse at us but we loved it as kids its a shame he died young the world is a better place for the weird and wonderful .

Great writing as ever. So much time spent in the delightful Cafe Tabac, mostly waiting two hours for the pot of tea to turn up, then taking two hours to drink it.

I remember when I was about 13 or 14, we would go into Probe Records to look at two things: The much coveted "Deaf School" badge on the ceiling, and Pete Burns. He was very scary.

"Who was the knobhead, Burns for treating me the way he did, or me for allowing him to get away with it?"

The answer is not you

Loved this. Made me go back and watch the gorilla fur coat incident from CBB...best TV moment ever.

Prompted by the article, I visited the café Tabac, revisiting my youth.

      It’s busy enough, a few with their heads up their arses so nothing much has changed since 1977.

       There’s a pudgy aging punk in the seat by the window that was once mine. A bit pastiche. Pete would have something caustic to say maybe?

       I travel back in time. I’ve finished my shift, working with ‘kids in care’. I transform into the me I keep for off duty.

       It’s 1977. I sit there with my  permed mushroom head,  fringe providing a curtain over my heavily made-up eyes. Plastic pants, see-through lacy Victorian vintage blouse  with a sweet velveteen bow tie. Gold kitten heel sandals. My style tolerated but unconventional; my taste in food, traditional. Café Tabac serves the best  jam and cream scone, with a glass of full-cream milk.

          He’s there, Pete with his entourage. She’s noticed him before around town. Unusual. Not giving a f….

       His hair jet black, quiffed into a set of wings. His eyes are circled with black kohl and his pupils are black. A Queen Duck; sometimes a graceful swan, or a snarky goose. Sometimes a raven.

        Looking good or sometimes ridiculous, he’s who he is,  renowned in the clubs and amongst the tribe that was Liverpool and our scene at that time. A special time. He set a pace. Unapologetic. Authentic. Love him or hate him. Everyone from that time knows his name.