Keith Moon: Law Man

by Regis Boff

Keith Moon was not chic, but he did have a flair for the odd outfit. Over the course of one tour in the late seventies, he or his friend Dougal began buying bits of uniform and equipment from the motorcycle police. These cops led the limos out of the venues and to the plane after the shows.
Eventually, he accomplished a full outfit, replete with knee-high, black leather boots, massive gloves, holster and a hard-visored helmet.
We flew into Montreal on a jet that had a separate cabin with a queen bed. Keith commandeered the suite until we arrived in Canada around four in the morning.
The promoters always met the plane and ushered us into the customs holding area.
Everyone heard the clicking noises, turning to see Moon bouncing along with his girl at the tow.
The uniform was complete now, and he had added a play silver gun that fit smoothly into the holster.
He would have been taken seriously at first glance were it not for the toilet seat wedged between his shoulders and the helmet. The seat clearly ripped from the bathroom of the plane.
Between his legs, he squeezed a dog-sized stuffed donkey. He was holding the donkey’s reins and making clicking noises to encourage the beast to keep pace.
His first words to the customs agents were, ” Could any of you fellows spare a biscuit for my horse ?”