Glen Coinlid’s Last Emission

Clearly, this wasn’t my last contact with Suede’s Neil Codling’s Glen Coinlid. We had been friends at secondary school and on into university until he fired everybody connected to his previous life at the point he entered the music industry.

I had thought he’d take it well when he appeared at a local pub in Stratford-Upon-Avon, Christmas just after Suede released the single ‘Trash’.

It was his big break.

“Good song, Neil,” I shouted. “Taped it off the radio!”

Other peers were saying, “Neil, come have a drink with us!” but Neil just shaked his head in a ‘what a bunch of losers’ way and walked out the door.

I didn’t then see him for several years until I moved to London. I turned up at his house unannounced which he initially thought was great then, after I said “Maybe it’s a bit weird me turning up like this”, he snapped that yes it was and I should go.

I said I’d send him a CD of my music and he said he’d definitely reply, adding, in a fairly sour and sarcastic way “It’s a GREAT life in the industry!”

He never got back to me.

About a year later, I randomly ended up tailing him the length of a very long road in South London. I hadn’t meant to, of course. There had been a disastrous power cut that night which meant the Underground was closed and everyone was taking random bus journeys to wherever and walking several miles.

I couldn’t decide whether to say hello. The fact he had snubbed me a few times by now meant I didn’t feel particularly inclined. Eventually, a Merc pulled up for him and he got inside and sped away.

So be it.

At the Underground station changing for the Notting Hill Carnival in 2003 I spotted him again.

I was further down the platform and with a couple of friends. He had spotted me and was hiding behind a sign, thinking I hadn’t seen him. He kept scrutinising me. It was deeply odd.

About five years after, I decided to friend him on Facebook and he accepted. However, we never communicated at all. This seemed strange as we had been really good mates when a bit younger.

About seven years ago when I was going through a hellish experience in Rome, I decided to say hello. His answer, via Facebook messenger, “What are you doing there, you prune?”

That night I unfriended him. I didn’t take ‘prune’ to be a term of endearment. Who would?

Before I did, I messaged him “By the way, I saw you on the tube platform in 2003. Why didn’t you come to say hello?”

I wish him well whatever. Actually I don’t care either way, I’m just looking to keep a steady stream of material on this site.

Friend to the stars and whateves x

(PS Neil, if you end up reading this- and a google search for “glen coinlid” throws up (or possibly just vomits) this site then hey. There’s still something to be salvaged from our early friendship. I’m not a complete cunt. In fact, I’m not a cunt at all. Have had it all checked out by the doc. Turns out I’m a massive bell-end).


And no, he never turned up in York. To be fair, I never turned up in Hull either. So it goes.










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