Joe Butler.

The Man; The Myth; The Legacy.

His very name is synonymous with speed, strength, aggression and discipline. Who can forget that time he smoked 45 marlboro reds one night and only coughed twice- twice when he walked to the bathroom the next morning? Or his high protein mega-diet of kebabs in mayo that he kept up for a doctor-and-bowel-blowing 18 months? Or all the times he stumbled nimbly on-stage with only a half dozen cans of Relentless and four pints of economy lager to hold up his guitar?

To many of you, the thought of him running a half marathon will be shocking. Frankly, the idea of him running at all may be pretty audacious. (Those of you sat at the back mumbling that jogging isn't running can just zip it. Who invited you anyway, Tom?) But it's happening. Trainers (the real kind that keep your legs from melting under the sustained ankle assault of concrete) have been purchased. Mildly sensual running shorts have been worn. Training has been done, occasionally to the Rocky IV soundtrack. Montages may have occurred.

More seriously, please give generously to what I believe is a really good, worthwhile cause. As many of you may know, my Grandad passed away recently, and whilst there isn't a specific charity for 'mystery undiagnosed yet evidentially lethal condition and/or disease', he was always very concerned that one day he would suffer from dementia. The fact that he didn't, and passed away with his mind intact is a constant comfort to me.

 

As is the fact that he and I were the same size for jogging bottoms.