Crud fanzine - the sequel

Crud #2 slithered into existence in April 1987, propelled by enthusiasm, naivety, and a heroic shortage of imagination. True to form, it contained the standard fanzine ritual: interviews with the usual suspects—the bands who were permanently mid-sentence in everyone else’s photocopied pages too. Still, there was method in the monotony. After catching Chumbawamba at the Boardwalk in Manchester alongside Anhrefn, I fired off a postal interview to the former and cornered the latter for a chat as well. Anhrefn were riding a small wave of excitement at the time, thanks to their anthem Action Man landing on the 7” compilation The First Cuts Are The Deepest on Words Of Warning Records.

The issue’s cultural gravitas was further elevated by Young Bowler’s Garfield cartoon, which depicted the lasagne-loving feline in a state of profound psychedelic exploration. Meanwhile, Jill The Ripper packed the margins with her razor-sharp doodles. One of these—featuring a punk sheep riding a skateboard—caught Anhrefn’s eye. They promptly commissioned her to design their album cover for Defaid, Skateboards A Wellies (Defaid meaning “sheep,” in case you're Welsh-not). Released in October on Workers Playtime Records, the album softened their live bite into something closer to punk flirting with new wave, but still a great debut all the same. Jill’s reward for her artistic breakthrough was being credited on the sleeve as “Jill The Kipper,” which she did not, for one second, believe was a charming linguistic misunderstanding ha-ha!

Promotion for the zine became a full-contact sport. I hitchhiked in all weather along the A55 and onward to Manchester and Liverpool, dropping copies on record shop counters like a low-budget Johnny Appleseed of stapled paper. Piccadilly Records, Probe, Kavern Records in Rhyl, and Cob in Bangor all received their unsolicited deliveries. Not content with legitimate distribution, I branched into covert operations—slipping copies onto magazine shelves in WH Smiths and assorted newsagents. This was the golden pre-barcode era, when a shopkeeper could simply ring up 25p and politely pretend the zine had always belonged there. Guerrilla marketing, 1987 style: equal parts optimism, mild trespass, and blind faith that someone, somewhere, might actually buy the thing... and they did! By the sackful!