From 1979 to somewhere in the mid-’80s, me and Mark Smith of the Fall, the second greatest band of the late 20th century, were (let’s call us) friends. We hung out when he was in town. We corresponded. He was a very funny guy. But sometimes, well, he could be a stickler for all variety of arcane et cetera, and while still funny he was not always fun.

One time he came over with some people including this very saucy redhead, a British journalist, who when I reached up her dress had no panties but something way more to the heart & soul of things: a dangling and saturated tampon string . . . oh baby. After he split (we’d been watching Plan Nine from Outer Space), she stayed the remainder of the night and it was, y’know, memorable. Very hotte and funky, very rock & roll.

Next day, when I met Mark at some pub, he said to me, kinda sharply: “Sex is not a good motivation for anything” . . . oh really? When he spotted some members of his band down at the far end of the room, we hadda scram before they spotted him“It isn’t a good idea to drink with your musicians.”

Haw! And we changed bars TWICE ‘cuz they were thinkingbarwise at leastjust like him.

Mark E. Smith. Funny guy!

I would like to go see him, but instead I’m gonna be getting my gallbladder removed. If you go, say hi for me.

The Rock & Roll Years! . . . ooooh boy . . . where the hell did they GO?

The Fall play Graceland at 9 p.m. Tues., June 24. $15