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The following feature appeared in Classic Rock magazine in October 2000. Our very special thanks go to Dave Ling and Classic Rock for letting us reproduce the feature here.

They came, they saw, they shagged your bird and smashed the joint up. CLASSIC RöCK celebrates the 25th anniversary of the classic MOTöRHEAD line-up. Up all night every night: DäVE LING.

Just like the rest of us, Lemmy finds it difficult to believe that this year Motörhead will have existed for a quarter of a century. "I thought we had three years in us ? if we were lucky," booms the snaggle-toothed bassist/vocalist as we lounge about his Kensington hotel suite. "You don't think chronologically at the start, you only realise how long you've been around at the end."

To have endured a career this twisted, you simply had to come from a twisted background. Lemmy - born Ian Fraser Kilmister in Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent, on Christmas Eve, 1945 - fits the bill perfectly. The son of a RAF pastor, at the age of four, he had 10 teeth removed without anaesthetic and the young Kilmister quickly became aware that he preferred his own company to most other kids he knew. After his parents divorced, Lemmy pronounced his father to be "The most grovelling piece of scum on this earth, a weasel of a man with glasses and a bald spot." When, in 1983, I asked him who his first crush was, he told me, "Champion The Wonderhorse."

After a brief sojourn in Manchester in the mid-60s as the clean-cut guitarist in the Rockin' Vickers, he relocated to London where he landed a gig as a roadie for Jimi Hendrix. He shared a flat with Noel Redding, forged an association with the London chapter of the Hell's Angels and remembers those days chiefly for the acid he regularly supplied to Jimi. "He'd send me out to score 10 trips. He'd take six, and I'd keep four."

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