Crash for PM!

Happy chappy: ‘Spring in the air, Vicar!’
Misey vicar: ‘Spring in the air yourself, you git!’

It’s that time of year again, peeps. Spring’s on its way, the crocuses and daffodils are popping up their pretty little heads, lambs are gamboling around (roulette, mainly).

And then of course you’ve got the mad March hares. To stop his hair getting too mad, Nicko went to the barber’s the other day. Now it ain’t mad at all — it’s just completely CRAZY!

Our Prod Ed, Wozza, has certainly caught the Mad March Hare syndrome. We’re all used to him talking to himself and swinging from the strip lights, but I caught him kissing the filing cabinet the other day (mind you, it is a particularly attractive filing cabinet).

Come to think of it, everyone at CRASH is slightly bonkers. We shouldn’t be called the CRASH Crew at all — Barmy Army’s much more appropriate!

On this month’s stupendous Powertape we’ve get an exclusive look at Potsworth & Co from Hi-Tec’s new cheapo(ish) Premier range, as well as the brilliant Eliminator and Xeno. So get out your joysticks and let rip.

PLUS! We’ve got the exclusive review of The Jetsons, Captain Planet, Space Crusade and heaps more stuff, all bigger and better than anyone else (so naaaaa!).

See ya next month,



Featuring Lucy, Nick, Warren and Alan

Starting a new job’s always a bit scary. Am I going to enjoy it? Will I like my colleagues? And, more importantly, will they like me?

Since this is Big Al Green’s virgin issue (eh eh!) and we all felt like having a good bitch, we decided to get into a bit of Character Assassination on the new tea maker...


When Big Al turned up for his interview a couple of months ago, my first thought was — what a thug! Neatly turned out in a ripped denim jacket, tracksuit bottoms, bovver boots and a skinhead haircut, Al would’ve looked more at home jumping up and down on someone’s head! However, he took the CRASH initiation test in good heart (comprising of standing on your head for two hours with a chip up each nostril singing three Abba songs backwards), so he can’t be all bad.

He doesn’t say an awful lot (the gag might have something to do with that), apart from warbling on about a few obscure music bands that nobody’s ever heard of, but he does make a mean cup of cha. What more could I ask?

NICK — Dep Ed

Alan who...? Oh, the one that’s started sitting opposite me with his Walkman on. I thought he was one of these work experience jobbies! He’s got a bit of a rad hairdo, hasn’t he? — more stripes than a tube of toothpaste! Beats Corky’s greasy bonce, though, and Al doesn’t leave Brilcream trails behind him!

He’s a good lad, our Al. He lent me his Beloved tape so I’ve got to say that, haven’t I?! Trouble is, someone nicked it from my desk, so I might change my mind when he beats me up!

WARREN — Prod Ed

Has anyone seen that silly (but rather amusing) giant Mousetrap game on Motornouth? ’Cos Al ‘yer pal’ Green’s a dead ringer for the geezer who presents it! ’Onest, guv, no word of a lie, strike me down with a wet kipper if I’m telling you a porkie (and similar stereotyped Cockney phrases).

Alan’s the CRASH beatnik — vicious haircut, drainpipe jeans, big hoofy boots, cheesecloth shirt — the works. He’s into dirgy Indie bands, his favourite food’s lentil butties and his most frequent phrase is ‘Nice one’ (how friendly of him!).

Alan’s not the most enthusiastic of workers — nobody’s van breaks down that often — but he is fair; the diplomat of the office (ie, he’s the only dull sod who doesn’t bitch about everyone!)

ALAN — Who Knows?

With friends like that, who needs enemies? As you can tell I’ve been as welcome as a dog turd through the post.

Lucy’s been thrashing me every night after work (on Captain Planet, actually, you foul-minded youth!). Meanwhile, Roberts has been playing crawly bum-lick ’cos of this lost tape. I’ve promised to extract his entrails with a lemon zester if he doesn’t give it back in the next 24 hours (gosh, perhaps I am a thug!). As for our Wozza, he only comes in about as often as the tide in Wolverhampton! Must spend all his time sharpening up those pointy shoes of his.

No really, folks, I’m the mildest-mannered guy in the place — I wouldn’t touch a rhino with a toothpick. And I’m Speccy bonkers and’ll fit into the wacky CRASH team like hand in glove (possibly a boxing glove!).