The Shock of The Nuge

Back in 1988, I'm working as a Press Officer for a major record label in London. I get all kinds of jobs, from organising a Robert Plant press conference to staging sensitive interviews with Miriam Makeba, an icon of South African culture, exiled from her homeland. Then the workbook is introduced to a new name: Ted Nugent.

He was a legend, even then. Celebrated as 'The Nuge' and finessed in Detroit, Michegan, he played visceral blues-metal, loaded with riffs and a stubborn attitude. 'Cat Scratch Fever' was the big hit. Nugent hated drug use, even tobacco, and when he came to town, I had to buy the fella pints of cream, which he would drink with relish. Then he would entertain young rock hacks with his intense stories. On one famous night, he arrived backstage at a Sex Pistols gig in Detroit and asked if he might jam with the English punks. They sent a roadie to meet them with some scissors, telling him he'd need to cut his hair off first. Ted reached into the waistband of his trousers and produced a Magnum 44. Discussions came to an end.

The last time I saw Ted he was in his dressing room at the Hammersmith Apollo. He was raving about the outdoor life, about hunting with a bow and arrow and the paternal pride he felt when his song killed his first deer. We were lectured in the finer points of skinning said animal ("first you make a slit in the anal vent..") and then we bid him farewell.

Ted's views have become even more alarming in recent years, and the guy is threatening to run as Republican Governor of Michigan in 2012. You should be warned.