I was hanging out with this English band called (The) Doves. If you don't know 'em, check them out, because it's moody-good stuff, and they're nice guys, as well. After the gig, all these peoples were staying in the same hotel, on the same night: Prince, Motörhead, Tom Jones, and of course, Doves. What a mix! Winner for the best tatoos: Motörhead. Hands down. And I knew one of their roadies, so at the end of a long evening of carousing, I was trying to convince everyone that Tom Jones should sing with Motörhead! Ha, ha! But they weren't going for it ... And then, as if I wasn't already in the Twilight Zone, as if it wasn't weird enough, I went to the can, looked over, and who was I pissing right next to, but Chris Deburgh! Wow! And I took off around 4 in the morn, walked across the bridge in the pouring rain, hit the main station, and at 5:15 a.m. was on the train to my next destination. In case you're wondering why this episode is titled, "Cologne, 4 a.m.", it's because Chris Deburgh smelled fantastic ... -Todd