Dan Lucas (1986 - 2017): A Tribute to the Late, Great Under the Radar Writer

The Beloved British Music Writer Passed Away Last Sunday

Mar 17, 2017
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Last Sunday night (March 12), Under the Radar lost one of our own when our writer Dan Lucas unexpectedly passed away from a surprise illness at his flat in London. I was awoken by the devastating news on Monday morning. He was only 31 and his death has saddened and shocked his family, friends, and loved ones, and also rattled the British music journalism community, where he was an active and well-loved figure.

Dan was born in 1986 and raised in Northampton, a town in the East Midlands of England. He had prolifically written for us for the last five years and was also a valued contributor to the British music websites Drowned in Sound, Gigwise, and Louder Than War (where he was also the Reviews Editor and where he met his longtime girlfriend, fellow music writer, Elizabeth Aubrey). Since 2013 Dan had also been a sport's writer for The Guardian, where he covered cricket and rugby. Here we present a tribute to Dan, truly one of Under the Radar's best writers, starting with some thoughts from me and followed by tributes from friends, colleagues, and musicians. It's also worth checking out the tributes Drowned in Sound and The Guardian have already published. And it's also worth noting that Dutch Uncles, a band Dan championed, raised a glass to him at their London gig on Monday night, a show he was supposed to attend.

I first tracked Dan down on Twitter in June 2012 after being impressed with some of his reviews for Drowned in Sound. I asked him if he'd want to write for Under the Radar and he said yes right away. And also right away we got into a discussion of Britpop, since it was his very funny negative reviews of new albums by Britpop also-rans Cast (Troubled Times, which he gave a 0/10) and Dodgy (Standing Upright in a Cool Place, which he more generously gave a 4/10), as well as his retrospective write up on Pulp's early album Freaks, that had initially caught my eye. I was into Britpop in my late teens in college and he was exposed to it when he was a bit younger, because of his parents and their love of Paul Weller and Ocean Colour Scene. Our age gap didn't matter much, we still easily found common ground discussing Suede's Dog Man Star, a mutual favorite album, among others.

Dan jumped right in and was quickly an integral part of the Under the Radar team. Right away he was reviewing albums by Metronomy, Japandroids, The xx, and others for us, as well as weighing in on important decisions, such as helping us decide who to put on the next cover and which cover photo to use.

Many new freelance writers come and go, often writing for us for maybe a year before fazing out, but some stick around for many years and an even smaller number become actual friends. Dan fell in the latter camp. Somewhere along the way what started as conversations about music turned into deeper chats about the challenges of relationships, both romantic and familial. When my dad was ill with cancer and then passed away in 2014, Dan was there to talk it through with me. He was always open and available and was always eager to find out what was going on your life.

I won't mislead and say that I knew him as well as his close friends in England. I spent very little time face-to-face with Dan, owing to the fact that he was in London and I'm based in America. But I am originally from London and we did spend some in-person time when I was visiting home around the time my father died, including having Dan over to my mum's house for dinner where he also spent time with my wife (and Under the Radar partner) Wendy and our then 2-year-old daughter Rose. I can just picture the very tall Dan plopped on my mum's old green couch while Rose played around him, Wendy cooked our feast, and he and I caught up on life and pop culture.

As a writer, I admired his honesty and wit. Too often I find that music writers are too keen to simply write about the bands they love and not eager to give bad reviews, which is understandable, as all music writers start out as music fans. But the truly great ones don't pull any punches when confronted with mediocre or bad records. In a climate where 7/10 seems to be the default rating for many music reviews, Dan wasn't afraid to give an album a 1/10. A great recent example is his 2/10 review last year of the reissue of Oasis' bloated third album, Be Here Now. Despite an appreciation for some Britpop acts, Oasis might've been the band that he most loved to hate. I knew when I assigned it to him I probably wouldn't be getting a particularly positive review, but I also knew I would be getting a biting and very amusing one. Over at Drowned in Sound, perhaps his most notorious review was his 0/10 assessment of Beady Eye's 2013 album BE, Beady Eye of course being the remaining members of Oasis' later period line-up, minus Noel Gallagher. Dan got a lot of gruff for that review from Oasis and Beady Eye fans, but he didn't care, he stood by it. I really hope that at his memorial someone plays some Oasis or Beady Eye just to wind Dan up in the great beyond.

The last review he wrote for us was of the new TV show 24: Legacy, a spinoff of the original 24, minus star Kiefer Sutherland. Despite his warnings I wasted my time watching the first two episodes, but he was right, it was shit. I should've listened to him. And while I may not have always agreed with his reviews, and while we fiercely disagreed about James Bond, a character and film series I've loved since childhood and one he easily dismissed, I always respected his honesty. Dan was also a diehard fan of The Simpsons and there were times I had to talk him out of including obscure references to Homer and Bart in his reviews, although other times I let them slide. Last December Dan excitedly got to interview Simpsons voice actor Harry Shearer for Drowned in Sound.

It's certainly still hard to accept that Dan is gone. We were just emailing about reviews and features for our next print issue a week before his death. Coming full circle, he was slated to review a new album by Jarvis Cocker of Pulp for us, but he didn't get it in before his passing.

My thoughts go out to his girlfriend Liz, who I know he loved very much, and his parents, who clearly helped launch Dan into a life of loving music. 31 is far too young and it breaks my heart to think of what a bright future he's been robbed of and the many more years of clever Simpsons references the rest of us will be missing out on.

To further wind up Dan I'll end my part of the tribute with the chorus to Oasis' "Don't Go Away," from Be Here Now, which Dan wrote was "easily the album's best song" and is oddly appropriate in this context.

"So don't go away, say what you say
But say that you'll stay
Forever and a day in the time of my life
'Cause I need more time, yes, I need more time
Just to make things right"

Erin Fein of Psychic Twin

One of Dan's favorite albums of 2016 was Strange Diary, the debut album by Psychic Twin, the project of former Headlights member Erin Fein. Dan reviewed the album for us and we gave it an 8.5/10, although Dan originally pushed for a 9/10 (a rating we give out very sparingly). Fein fully appreciated Dan's support of her work and offered this statement on his passing:

"It is hard to describe how thrilling it is when a critic contacts you and tells you he thinks your record is one of the best he's heard that year. You never think anyone is going to say something like that to you, maybe your mom, but probably no one else. But Dan said that to me, and his encouragement meant the world to me and still does. He didn't wait to see what other blogs or media sources had to say, he reached out long before any of that. I'll never forget the day I got his tweet, I felt like I was flying. I don't know if Dan knows how much his support meant to me, but it was deeply touching and I won't forget it. My heart is heavy with the news of his untimely passing and I send all of my love and sincere condolences to his loved ones and family."

Catherine Anne Davies (aka The Anchoress)

The Anchoress (aka Catherine Anne Davies) was another artist Dan championed. He interviewed her for us in early 2016 and the two were also friends. She offered this statement about Dan:

"I was shocked and devastated to be woken up to the news on Monday morning that Dan Lucas had died suddenly.

He was a force of nature. A natural contrarian. He had such a mind. He was a real one-off... He couldn't believe I'd never really watched The Simpsons. He loved trolling myself and Dom Gourlay online about our Manics obsession (although he later converted). Only a few days before he had broken his leg and I almost commented beneath his Facebook photo that Liam Gallagher must have caught wind of his draft review of the forthcoming solo album. He loved to poke and provoke and was the master of the arch put-down, though often misunderstood, as under this all was a sweet, gentle man, music fanatic, a fantastic sports journalist, and an encyclopedic brain.

When Dan interviewed me for Under the Radar magazine, a 20-minute conversation turned into hours in the pub while he sipped Diet Coke and we kept muting the recorder to go 'off the record.' We talked about the difficult times we'd been through and how music had been such a source of strength and focal point for all that pain.

That was the side to him people often didn't get a chance to see, beyond the controversy and masterful trolling that he was SO darn good at. But he was always so much more than 'the guy who did THAT Beady Eye review.' 

It was a privilege to know you Dan. 

Much love to Liz and the family. x"

Owen Gibson, Head of Sport at The Guardian

For the last years Dan's music writing existed in tandem to his sport's coverage for The Guardian, where he won over a whole different segment of fans. Owen Gibson, Head of Sport at The Guardian, offered this remembrance of Dan:

"Dan was a talented journalist but, more importantly, a really lovely bloke. And what has become even clearer to us at The Guardian since he so suddenly and tragically passed away is just how strong a connection he had with thousands upon thousands of readers who had never met him. He epitomized the very best aspects of the community that has been built around our live sports coverage. His warmth, humor and passion for sport and for music shone through in everything he wrote. He will be very much missed."

Under the Radar Writer John Everhart 

Fellow longtime Under the Radar writer John Everhart felt compelled to offer these thoughts about Dan, despite never meeting him in person, and also wanted to share R.E.M.'s "Man On the Moon" as a tribute:

"It's oddly very rough even when someone you only knew via social media and their music writing dies suddenly, particularly at the age of 31. I'll miss his reviews, many that I didn't agree with, but were always entertaining, well-written, and thought-provoking. And his sports writing, much of which I didn't understand because U.K. sports are boring as fuck, and his detail to minutiae was excruciating at times for me. In a good way, though. And his hilarious, self-deprecating social media posts. And his contributions to my inanity on Facebook always made me laugh. Thoughts and love to those close to Mr. Dan Lucas. This is the best thing I can muster as a tribute to an obviously complex, brilliant Individual I sadly hardly got to know. But I do know he and I both loved these guys and this song, which is about transcendence. RIP, and see you at the truck stop someday, Dan."

Under the Radar and Drowned in Sound Writer David Edwards 

David Edwards has been a longtime writer for Drowned in Sound and has also written for Under the Radar. More importantly, he was one of Dan's best friends and had this to say:

"It's all slowly beginning to settle in, but at the same time I'm all to painfully aware that it may never fully settle in. Dan Lucas - my great friend, my colleague, my companion in all things music, TV, film and general geekery - is gone, so cruelly taken from us at the age of only 31. Even writing these words seems ridiculous, until the truth hits you like a speeding train.

Dan was truly one of a kind. A fiercely passionate, engaging, erudite, and brilliant mind but also a beautiful sweet and kind soul. He never took the middle ground. To Dan, if something was just 'ok' it wasn't worth bothering with. He lived at the extremes - his reviews on albums he hated were caustic, savage, and achingly funny. Yet his reviews on his favorite works were full of beautiful imagery, flowing prose, and that crucial aspect that defines the great journalist - honesty. He poured himself into his work, he never flinched and in doing so, he used his talent to reach out to others. Many writers try for years to get near that ability. To Dan, it came naturally.

As well as this, he was the most wonderful friend and human being. I will forever treasure our time spent together at cricket, football, and rugby games. I will fondly remember our wonderful days at music festivals (despite his avowed hatred of camping). But it's also the little things - sitting there chatting for hours about Game of Thrones fan theories over beers, texting each other silly The Office-themed memes and loudly singing songs from The Simpsons at every given opportunity. And also that whenever anything was wrong or times were tough, Dan was always there with a kind word of insightful take on the matter. He was an absolute diamond.

At some point these things will be memories I can treasure. Right now they're almost too painful to bear.

The world of music and sports journalism has lost a unique, brilliant, and fearless writer. And I have lost a true friend.

Rest easy Hermano. I am going to miss you terribly. x" 

Dan's Longtime Girlfriend Elizabeth Aubrey 

We felt it appropriate to close with Liz, Dan's longtime and devoted girlfriend Elizabeth Aubrey, also a music writer. Firstly she reflects on Dan's work with Under the Radar:

"Dan really fell into his own when he started to write for Under the Radar. It helped to further hone his intelligent, witty style and allow him to branch out into other fields such as film and TV criticism - something he loved to do. Dan cherished the support both Mark and Wendy gave him, and felt he learned so much from their editorial advice and direction. He considered them to be close friends. 

Dan was a passionate music lover and held strong, fierce views on what he liked and what he definitely didn't like. He never sat on the fence and always followed his heart. He justified his views passionately and his conviction to what he believed was one of the most endearing things about Dan. His writing was characterized by extreme intelligence and humor - and of course, Simpsons references. Anyone who challenged Dan on his Simpsons knowledge quickly learned they had made a huge mistake. Dan cherished his opportunity to write for Under the Radar and always felt such pride when the latest magazine arrived on his doorstep in the U.K. He often sent pictures of his printed pieces to his friends and family who were, of course, incredibly proud of his achievements. Dan is an enormous loss to so many people, none more so than his loyal readers whose messages of admiration for Dan have touched so many of his close family and friends. I will miss Dan terribly. Seeing how much his writing has touched others is the greatest comfort at this difficult time."

Liz also offered this impassioned and detailed statement about Dan, which we shall close with:

"My Dan Lucas

It all began with a tweet. I had just started to write about music in 2011 and I decided to tweet a young writer, a certain @danlucas86, because I'd read his reviews on Louder than War and Drowned in Sound and I wanted to tell him how much I enjoyed them. They were unlike anything I had ever seen: intelligent, funny, sophisticated sarcastic, gloriously geekish, entertaining, full of obscure Simpsons references, and often full on Malcolm Tucker in tone. There was simply nobody else around writing about music in this way and I wanted to tell him that. 

He replied to me instantly and a Twitter conversation soon ensued that ended up with me tweeting him a review I'd written. As reviews editor at Louder than War, he decided to upload it onto the site that same day, saying how much he really enjoyed it. Now, for those of you that know Dan, if I tell you this review was of Elbow, or "Elbore" as Dan often termed them, that was a really nice thing for him to do. Nicer still was the fact he asked me to send him more of my writing shortly after: he was the very first person to show an interest in my work. He uploaded every single piece of my writing onto the website over the next few days whilst guiding, editing, and advising me on how to make my writing better. I was touched beyond words by his kindness, interest, and championing of me, a nobody blogger simply having a go at writing. I wrote my first piece for the Guardian about three years later - that was entirely down to Dan Lucas and the advice he gave me from that day on. Without him, I'd have never found a voice. Dan's work was all about a strong voice: his character and personality shone through everything he ever wrote. 

A week or so later, Dan found himself in Manchester and asked me if I would like to meet to talk about music and writing. "I'm marginally funnier in person than on Twitter," he said. "Which is like being a slightly taller Danny De Vito." He'd not yet seen a picture of me as I had a stupid guitar picture as an avatar, nor did he know that I didn't really mind Oasis or The Stone Roses all that much. He did know, however, that I was a massive geek on Tom Waits, Radiohead, The Simpsons, Woody Allen, R.E.M., and Bruce Springsteen. I was an Eels super-fan and an ELO enthusiast. All of this somehow contributed to why he asked me to meet: he had met a fellow geek and geeks, as we know, can be hard to find - good ones, anyhow. 

I turned an embarrassed shade of violet when I finally met him on 16th November at 5pm. He was bloody handsome, this Dan Lucas, and I felt suddenly and painfully aware that my hair was sticking up in places it shouldn't, that my eyeliner was probably smudged from the rain. He was wearing a 1950s jazz style grey hat, a smart suit with a Radiohead t-shirt, and some battered old Converse; I was hopelessly floored when he started talking to me and I started to stare at my Converse. I had planned to come across as my nerdish, well informed musical writer self who knew her thing - instead I stuttered, stumbled, and realized I couldn't stop staring at him or listening to him: I was entirely disarmed. How utterly unexpected was this Dan Lucas? Where had this guy come from? What on earth was he doing to me?

In the first hour of meeting him, it will come as no surprise to those of you who knew Dan that we talked about The Simpsons, cricket, REM, Radiohead, Eels, Arrested Development, and Weezer. He was impressed I knew all the lyrics to 'Do the Bartman' but I was more impressed he seemed able to recount any single quote from seasons 4-9 of The Simpsons perfectly. In our first hour together, he opened up - only momentarily - about his love of cricket and I felt that I was in the presence of some kind of genius. 'I'll stop talking now - I've just heard myself and I sound incredibly boring' he said. I told him to stop being ridiculous and to tell me more about Fire in Babylon. To listen to Dan talk about something he loved was an absolute joy - his mind darted from stat to stat, anecdote to anecdote with effortless, intelligent grace. The child-like grin on his face when he told me about Curtly Ambrose meant I wanted to know all about Curtly Ambrose too. He started to explain the Duckworth Lewis method to me.

Drinks turned to dinner and kisses and dancing and loud singalongs in the street. We sang Weezer's 'Buddy Holly,' Toto's 'Africa,' and Prefab Sprouts' 'The King of Rock n Roll.' A Canadian told us off for singing South Park's 'Blame Canada' but Dan just encouraged me to sing it louder, so I did. It was an actual perfect first date that wasn't meant to be a date. When my train pulled off, he ran after it at top speed, waving, losing his hat and glasses in the process but still running after it like a massive idiot anyway shouting that he loved me. I got asked to shut up on the train because I shouted it back at the top of my voice too. 

Getting to know Dan over our first year together was an absolute joy. We re-watched every Woody Allen film and gushed about them afterwards over wine in Gordon's, his favorite bar. We swapped jazz records and waxed lyrical for hours on sunny days about Miles Davies and George Gershwin. He bought me an original Gershwin vinyl weeks after meeting and wrote about me in an In Rainbows retrospective he put together, where I suddenly became this metaphor in his work - I mean, fuck. Can you imagine how that makes a person feel? He bought me an E. E. Cummings poetry book too and wrote the same note as in Hannah and Her Sisters, inscribing it to me. Where the hell do you begin? Nobody had ever treated me with as much care and consideration and thoughtfulness as Dan. I was absolutely stunned, head-over-heals in love and stunned. There was nobody like Dan. He wanted to be generous to everyone - he did similar things for friends and family because he wanted everyone to feel his love. 

It was about date three when Dan first revealed his gloriously fierce views on the world to me, so often seen in his reviews. Unaware at this point about the true extent of his hatred towards Manchester music, I brought up Oasis and The Stone Roses. 'What do you mean, you bought What's the Story?' he said to me, a look of abject fear in his eyes. 'Oasis should be put down a sewer and then shat on some more so they really are in no doubt about just how much like a stinking pile of festering shit they really are.' 

Naturally, Dan said this with a straight face and total, unwavering belief in every word he said. Zero fence sitting. He continued with a two-hour tirade about Ian Brown, or 'Danny Dyer's granddad,' as he liked to call him. He told me Coldplay make elevator music just after he'd spent a whole hour musing about what on earth the point of Snow Patrol was. He said he thought anyone who attended a musical was a sociopath and that Jason Statham was the only person who could save the James Bond franchise now. He rang me after date three, worrying that his views had been too much. '[Oasis'] "Whatever" isn't bad, I suppose, and not all Manchester music is terrible. The Bee Gees were genuinely the best band to come out of Manchester." Dan Lucas's humor was just glorious. 

Dan started to write much more seriously in 2012. His output at Louder than War and Drowned in Sound increased, so too did his adventures into sports writing, getting his work published on sporting blogs all across the U.K. He started to write for my blog too, whilst also showing me how to write better, taking the time to read my pieces and come up with better similes and metaphors and Simpsons jokes than I ever could - than anybody ever could. He had total and unwavering belief in what he wanted to do: he would become a writer and no crummy two-bit job would get in the way. He would write, and he would do this for a living and he would do it the hard way, the proper way. In 2013, I told him to send his sports writing into The Guardian because it was quite, quite brilliant. He initially refused, saying it wasn't good at all and preceded to delete all his attempts and pitches. Dan was a sensitive soul and not confident in his abilities - even through all his readers and those closest to him absolutely were. When I threatened to play The Stone Roses on loop to him if he didn't send his work in, he finally caved. He started work on the Guardian liveblog a week later. He also managed to secure work at The Telegraph, travelling all over the country to report on rugby matches, and Guerrilla Cricket, where his skills as a talented radio broadcaster came to light. He wrote prolifically for Under the Radar magazine and always delighted when his copy dropped on the doormat, proudly showing me his work in print. More recently, he branched out into covering women's tennis at the WTA and live music and news features for Gigwise. He even sort of won a BAFTA for his coverage of the Channel 4 winter Olympics (google Dan Lucas, BAFTA and look for his hilarious tweets).  

Over six years together, we did it all. We wandered the streets of Montmartre at night many a time, drinking in bars that we'd seen in movies and pretending we were in those movies. We danced for three hours in Coventry to Bruce Springsteen when he played the whole of Born to Run in full. We got stranded in Coventry when we missed the last train after the gig and suffered an eight-mile walk through the night until we paid £180 for a taxi to get us home. We partied all over London and Manchester until the small hours dancing to The National. We blagged backstage passes to gigs and waved like dorks at our heroes. We met Hodor from Game of Thrones on a flight to Pisa and expressed our love for him by shouting HODOR! We ran on stage at the London Palladium and got chased off by security. We went to Berlin and hated it ("it's basically just Longsight this place, but with worse scenery" - Dan Lucas); we went to Italy and got lost for hours on the streets of Florence, drinking wine and eating ice cream. We took the piss out of the pretentious art in Tate Modern, we swam in the sea in Devon, and we watched Sideways at least once every six months. We fought over chess games, discussed Game of Thrones fan theories into the early hours, watched cricket in Northampton on sunny days, screamed in support of the Northampton Saints whenever they would beat Leicester. He introduced me to a band called Wilco. We stared at our shoes at My Bloody Valentine and The Jesus and Mary Chain and sang 'Karma Police' at the top of our voice at a Radiohead gig. We started a band and sounded appalling but continued to have a go anyway. We cooked spicy food and Dan ate chills so hot they weren't even on the Scoville scale. We argued over him being Northampton's only Manchester City fan. We wrote a film script involving Jason Statham fighting terrorists at London Zoo - Dan sent it to Jason Statham's agent and we still await a reply.  

Dan did everything in his life to the full and he did it with style. He did everything with passion, knowledge, and complete and utter conviction. When he went below the line, he threw himself in with total disregard and he argued his point passionately - it didn't matter what that point was, he argued it passionately because it mattered to him that people could see just how passionate it was to him. He was an unashamed geek - he had an encyclopedic knowledge of Game of Thrones, cricket, rugby, The Simpsons, Breaking Bad, Arrested Development...and anyone who dared to challenge him swiftly found out they had made, to quote Arrested Development, 'a huge mistake.' He was also wildly mischievous and fun - so much fun. You haven't lived if you haven't shouted Arrested Development quotes with Dan Lucas into the ether at 3 o'clock in the morning. 

Dan was also a sweet, gentle, and sensitive man. He loved animals and visiting zoos and wildlife sanctuaries and donating to charitable causes for animals. He loved his childhood toys, which he kept, Andy from Toy Story style, safely in his room and would still do their idiosyncratic voices to me every day like a boy of eight, just because it was fun to do so. He could tell you anything about dinosaurs and Jurassic Park was his favorite film. Our yearly visit to the Natural History Museum involved Dan doing his very best impression of Jeff Goldblum. He loved championing new bands he really liked and he loved helping others and always giving time to others whenever he could. He loved his family, his friends, and he even, bafflingly, loved me. I always felt so lucky and honored that someone like Dan chose me. 

There is an unimaginable void in all our lives; that of his colleagues, his readers, his closest friends and family, his online circle of friends. There was simply nobody like The Dan Lucas. To honor him, learn quotes from The Simpsons. Read Game of Thrones and remember every single plot line and character intricacy. Go to a cricket match and grin like a child. Watch Fire in Babylon. Watch YouTube videos of Curtly Ambrose. Sing 'See my vest...'. Scream at the rugby whilst drinking Guinness. Drink wine at Gordons until you can't remember who you are. Be funny. Play your guitar and sing badly. Do a shit pub crawl around Northampton. Don't take life too seriously. Follow your dreams and absolutely, categorically, do not listen to anyone who tells you not to. Watch a dumb '80s action movie and do your best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression with total, unwavering conviction. Watch all episodes of 24 back to back with a box of shit lager. Shout 'DENTAL PLAN!' at your dentist receptionist and watch their glorious confusion. Listen to Radiohead, Wilco, Bruce Springsteen, R.E.M. and sing them at the very top of your voices at least once every day. Shout 'BOOOURNSSS' to a colleague at work and judge them if they don't shout back. Live life to the full and never be afraid to geek out about it. Watch Woody Allen movies over and over. Shout 'neeeerrrrrrddddddddd!' at university students then run off. Get excited when c list celebrities like Paul Ross tweet you. Light an a-lister's cigarette for them. Argue with your girlfriend when you tell her that you lit Marion Cottilard's cigarette (we made up eventually). Play George Gershwin at 1 in the morning and get shouted at by your neighbors. Get tickets to see Stuart Lee or Louis C.K. and laugh until your stomach hurts... 

...Sing 'Monorail, Monorail' to strangers in the street. Tell someone you love them every single day. Make a jacket that says: 'Mr. Plough.' Book a shit break away to Berlin and tweet to the German national tourism board that Sauerkraut is shit. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Shout at people below the line if they're rude and fight your corner like a boss. Don't sit on any fences, you don't want splinters. Know that PRs who send streams are terrible because streams are for pissing in. Be cruel to Beady Eye fans, they deserve it. Stand up for your beliefs and geek the hell out of others. Care for others. Stroke a cute dog on a tube, take a picture of it and post it up on Instagram. Use a Malcolm Tuckerism at least once a day, remembering that 'omnishambles' is a particularly good choice. Help others when they need it because it's a dick move not to. Recite Ozymandias in a Walter White voice because it's really, really fun. Give a shit. Don't buy anything from John Lewis, ever. Know your stuff. Avoid plays at all costs. Take an immediate distrust to anyone who goes to a musical because they're probably a sociopath. Be proud to tell people what you know. Learn to play guitar and play it loudly. Fight your corner. Take delight in writing vicious complaints to train companies. Support a football team no one else in your hometown does. Shout at people who stand on the left on the underground. Find your Simpsons hero and interview them, correct them if you need to. Talk about the greatness of Eels over wine for hours and talk to your friends and loved ones every single day...because if you do just a bit of this, then you will see just a little bit of what it was like to be my Dan Lucas." 

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Nargis kabir
March 25th 2017
1:31am

Nice article and photos.