Dear friends, readers, bingo players and affiliated members ... this is my book "Beer, Bands & Bingo Balls". There are thousands of books out there recounting the struggles of the rich and famous, each telling a story of poverty to stardom; from rags to riches ... and they all end up with a mansion and a Ferrari. Don't be fooled ... because this is NOT one of them. This is the Workingmen's club circuit. The first rung on the ladder of dreams and aspirations, and it sure as hell isn't Vegas or Madison Square Garden. If you have never visited a Workingmen's club before, I'm sure the next 100-plus pages are going to be very confusing Realistically speaking, it is the alternative to stretch limos, drugs and lines of enthusiastic groupies. This is the real world. More like a knackered old transit van; a couple of pints of non-fizzy crap beer; and a kiss off an 'old slapper' at the end of the night - if you're lucky (or unlucky, depends on your own frame of mind). Some of the participants in this book (very few) have been protected by a change of identity, at their own request. But they know who they are, and I am sure they can live without the notoriety. I hope I don't come across at patronising or self-opinionated, because that is not the point of the exercise. I tell it from our side of the fence (the band), and I believe the grass on our side is just as green as that of our neighbours. I have tried to be honest and faithful to the events throughout these writings. I've told it just as I remembered it, which is all a body can do. I just hope I've told it well. I wish to thank everyone included for adding to this adventure, as without them, my life ... and Clubland ... would have been robbed of something rather unique. A thank you to each and every one of you.