Andy 'Streethawk' Ounsted
An Interview With Andy 'Streethawk' Ounsted
Interviewed by Jonathan Davies
"So, you've got a motorbike, have you, Andy?"
"Yeah, I've got a bike. And call me 'Streethawk'. All my friends do."
"Right. So, Andy..."
"Er, Streethawk, what sort is it exactly?"
"It's a Yamaha or something, I think. It's well hard. It shifts."
"Does it really?"
"Yeah. It'll burn off anything."
"Terrific. Could we have a look at it, do you think?"
"Er, no. I didn't bring it in today."
"Oh? Why not?"
"It, um, wouldn't start. I had to get the bus instead."
Not long after YS closed, Andy passed the test for a Stage 2 motorcycle licence (or whatever it's called), entitling him to ride hugely more powerful crap bikes. He acquired the nickname "Streethawk" because the only way he could get his crap bike going in the morning was to ride it down the stairs of the really tall building where he lived and hope the engine caught by the time he reached the bottom, knocked down the back door and wheelied uncontrollably into the alley. Neighbours would set their clocks by his daily appearances and screams of terror. Andy is now a manager of several legendary punk bands and is learning to fly.
The "er" in YS was always, er, "er." Latterly, however, Andy O's powerful interpretation (a sort of back-of-the-throat high-pitched "erm", so it sounds a bit like "eem") that, post-YS, it's been written, er, "erm." Andy's new global standard has brought him monthly royalties of five thousand pounds from Viz alone. But "er" will always have a place in, er, erm, (cough), er...
um ... our hearts. That was it.
Apparently, Andy O's distinctive vocal "er" was an amusing impersonation of Sonya, a singer of whom Jonathan has never heard. Unless Andy meant Sonja Henie, except she didn't sing. She skated. On ice. And made a dozen films based on this somewhat limiting characterisation. A bit like Esther Williams, really, except colder. And on top.