When we were all depressed—thinking the group was going nowhere and this is a shitty deal and we’re in a shitty dressing-room—I’d say, “Where we going, fellers?” and they’d go, “To the top, Johnny!” in pseudo-American voices. And I’d say, “Where’s that, fellers?” and they’d say, “To the toppermost of the poppermost, Johnny!” I’d say, “Riiiight!” and we’d all cheer up. That was our little mantra that got us through.8
