It was a cold full-moon night in Wolverhampton when Adam introduced me to Gaz. We’d been to Canal club five minutes before it became unbearable. Wasted on Red Stripe, we stepped out into the night and I was howling at the moon, shouting at no-one, hollering down the street. Just an average Saturday night in my twenties. It was around then you turned to Adam and said something to the effect of: “This guy’s nuts...I think he’s alright.”

The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. You just happened to step right back into my life when all around me seemed to fall apart. When I was moving around Stafford without any sort of aim, you made it bearable and made me feel like an old friend, not a stranger. It was through Claire I got to know you and Steph better, it was through Steph I met Julianne. Later, you and Natalie helped me get through our first break-up. Later still, you and Nicole helped me get through our second.(Internet edit: we are still together btw.) It was through you I met a fantastic array of people that made my life what it is today. For that, you have my undying thanks.

Together, you and I were a two-man gang, dressed in a uniform of black ready to take on motherfuckers. With you I felt unstoppable. With you I felt invincible. You turned me from plain old Check into Big Checka with those damn stickers, restored my confidence when I felt helpless, and made me realise that no matter what I went through, I could get through it. We were chaotic and random but you had a plan every time. And the best thing was, we could sit around in any Stafford pub and talk about what happened like it was an old story. Five minutes later, we’d be creating another story to tell.

I don’t know where to begin. There isn’t enough time to tell all the stories, all the times we had. The stickers, covering me in flour at Dani’s with Clemson and Greeny and me storming out into the night looking like a ghost, flipping tables in Wetherspoons, throwing pints around in Casa. Oh, that time I drove all the way to Manchester just to pick you up in The Biggiemobile. Yeah, I got us “lost” on purpose. That was getting you back for playing N.W.A full-tilt in my car in the middle of Longsight.

When you said you were moving to Manchester, I wasn’t upset, I was ecstatic. You knew how I felt about the motherland. I was already planning the expletive-laden adventures we could have up there.

The longest I ever went without talking to you was four days. And that’s when I later found out you first met Nicole. But the only thing going through my mind at the time was “I hope he’s getting laid, because I ain't happy about this.” But you were happy, and it showed. I was worried that you wouldn’t really get on up there but whenever I visited, i realised that was nonsense because it was clear that your charm and character had put paid to the fact that you had definitely made it a home-from-home for yourself. You could have done that anywhere.

Because of the person you are, I knew you could never feel alone. You had, you have so many people here that can’t say they never enjoyed being around you or enjoyed your company. It was testament to the person you are why so many people are here, and why so many came that Saturday.

All of us here will grow old, grey, wrinkled. You will remain in our hearts and minds forever young, the image of you never tarnished with time. Ageless and immortal.

You always asked when Biggie and The Dutchman were gonna ride again and I said “soon”. I just never realised or could never have imagined that I’d be taking you on your last one again so soon.

I’ve never said goodbye to you because it sounds so final. So I’ll just say what the German’s say, literally meaning I’ll see you again: Auf Wiedersehen.

Thank you for being our friend, and thank you for being mine.
I love you.