Witchwood, Ashton-under-Lyne Moshing in the 1990s

The Friday night "Band & DJ" days became a highlight of the week for me at The Witchwood for a few years in the 1990s. This entailed either a new or established band (no tribute acts allowed on Fridays) playing until 11pm-ish then followed by a DJ playing appropriate "choons" to the band and audience on the night. This was the one night of the week when I used to exceed the recommended daily alcohol limit without fail. The Witchwood had also started to make cocktails alongside their other potent brews so Fridays became very eventful indeed. This was quite a departure from my Friday nights of a decade earlier which were played out for me only half a mile away from The Witchwood at Wheels against a backdrop of roller skating and my first girlfriend.

Anyway, one particular Friday night in the mid 90s they had a grunge band on so the audience of Kurt Cobain clones and Eddie Vedder lookalikes were up for some moshing madness from the DJ after the band had cleared off. Cue plenty of Nirvana; Pearl Jam; Alice in Chains; Stone Temple Pilots; The Pixies; Hole and so forth. It was a late bar too and the audience that night seemed particularly worse for wear. I was also slightly merry so after midnight I joined the throngs of sweaty bodies and flailing hair on the dance-floor... then Nirvana's "Lithium" came on.

During the chorus the dance-floor went ballistic and there followed a frenzy of pushing, shoving and general mayhem. This type of music encourages "moshing" which, to the uninitiated, involves plenty of "controlled" aggression. Suddenly, I found myself being singled out for some uncontrolled aggression. I became embroiled in the middle of a whirlpool of humanity and was being bounced from pillar to post. This was normally all part of the fun but on this occasion it was more violence than controlled aggression. At this point it started to lose it's fun so I lashed out with an arm to escape the madness. A second later I was headbutted sending me crashing, dazed to the floor. As I staggered to my feet, my assailant was grabbed by one of the door staff and marched out of the building. I moved to the edge of the dance-floor and a couple of lads asked if I was OK. I was dazed and confused.  I asked them what all that was about and they informed me the one who had nutted me was off his face and anyway was "a bit of a tool at the best of times". I decided to call it a night and went home.

I am glad to report that, to date, this is the one and only occasion I have ever been headbutted.  My moshing days were not over with this incident. I just toned them down a bit.