HISTORY tends to write them off as mere cartoonish pasticheurs or punk also-rans at best, but I'm here to tell y'all that The Damned (Cheese & Grain, Frome, Saturday, £10.50 advance/£12.50 on the door, tickets on 01373 455420), at their best, were The Real Deal.

I was sufficiently moved by the tumultuous momentum of their debut single New Rose and first album, Damned Damned Damned, to write to Stiff Records and become a 'Damned Disciple'. I wore my Damned badge, depicting Rat Scabies' ripped and slashed bass-drum head, with no small measure of pride on my school blazer to the bemusement and mild irritation of my elders and betters, believing that I was in fact fomenting rebellion on a Guy Fawkes or Che Guevara scale.

I was rendered so excitable by the aimless energy and white heat of their first John Peel session that, audibly thrumming, I ran through and woke up my mother, for which she has never forgiven me and which she never fully understood in the first instance: "Damned?! Who is damned?! Are you damned?!" she screeched, crossing herself, sprinkling me with holy water and reflexively fingering the rosary which hung at the ready from her bedside tabernacle. Salad days.

In hindsight, it can be seen that The Damned's biggest failing was the fact that they possessed a sense of humour at a time when there was little room for such levity in the glumly earnest and naively politicised British music press.

Also, their second album, Music For Pleasure, saw them wantonly marching to the beat of a different drum, produced as it was by a member of the dreaded Old Guard - Pink Floyd drummer Nick Mason (the band originally wanted Syd Barrett to handle the production duties, which would have made rather more sense).

Retrospectively, of course, all of this weighs heavily in The Damned's favour: Their early material holds up remarkably well today, and recent songs co-written by original members Dave Vanian and Captain Sensible on their 2001 album Grave Disorder find them in appropriately rude health.

You'd have to be a right spanner to miss them at their upcoming Frome gig, frankly. Don't talk to me if you're thinking of missing it. Don't even look at me.

From globally-established punk figureheads to nascent locally-based talent: Take note of the fact that the Startime 2002 talent show Grand Final (Rembrandt Hotel, Weymouth, Monday, 8pm, £5, tickets on (01305) 788422 or from reception) is imminent.

The talent show has been running regularly every Monday since February, and it has shaken out thusly - Pick the bones out of the following well-starred hopefuls: Nikki Bates, Kerry Winter, Michelle Homer, Funked Up, Shaun Steer, Amy Jenkins, Samantha James, Fusion, The Chosen Ones and Louisa Cashley.

It behoves you to attend and wave your support garments in support of the star turn of your choice: Watch this space for news of the eventual much-garlanded victor...

Now, if you're languishing in the Bridport area with your jaw hanging slack and your thumb up your bottom for the want of anything to do, look well upon this: Adrian Collis, landlord of the Three Horseshoes in Burton Bradstock, is soon to be staging the Best Of The West Music Festival (Bridport Arts Centre, Sunday, July 14, noon-10.30pm, £10, tickets available from the arts centre, Bridport Record Centre and the Three Horseshoes, Burton Bradstock), based around the bands who regularly play at his elegant hostelry.

These bands are, from the left, The Jess Upton Soul Band, Little Dixie, Trouble In Mind, Tia, No Worries, The First Men On The Sun and performers from the ZEST! nightclub. Oh, and a Very Special Guest, I hear... It's a proper cornucopia, an aladdin's cave of riches, a selection box with no toffees and a tube of Smarties consisting entirely of orange ones. Snap your tickets up sharpish.

Finally, I always like to leave you on a positive note, and if your heart isn't warmed by this, then get away from my children, you android.

I've just received a postcard from Jumping Jimmy Thunder, all the way from Memphis (as Mott The Hoople would have it). I love to see a dream realised, and thrap me sideways if Jimmy hasn't gorn and done it - Yep, he's made it to Graceland.

Jim says: I'm so happy to say

I'm at Graceland today

And where Elvis is king

It's now Jimmy who sings

Thanks to friends as generous as you.

Thank you,

Jimmy Thunder.

Harrumph, no, I'm NOT crying, I just poked myself in the eye with a cannister of CS gas while I was chopping these onions, is all.

MARCO ROSSI