Hardcore was discovered in a conservatory in North London in February 1997. He was close to death in an inch of dirty, hot water. He smelled very bad indeed. Si, Mike and Tony, his new human friends, did the decent thing and put him outside to die.

?A week later, he still wasn't dead. His tank had iced over and he had had no food. It was getting increasingly difficult to look him in the eye. The humans decided to bring him inside and nurse him back to health immediately. And a couple of days later, they did just that.

This was perhaps Hardcore's happiest time. He had a new name that reflected his strength of character, clean water, food and gravel from Harrods. He had pictures of other fish around his tank (stolen from a church) and in the tank were his friends the Lego man and the plastic fried egg. It was a time of learning for Mike, Si and Tony: learning how infrequently you can feed a goldfish, learning what a chore it is to clean a goldfish tank and learning what's the smallest vessel you can fit a goldfish in. Hardcore joined in with this last game with great spirit. The sight of him balancing on him nose in a beaker full of water, his tail happily flapping in the air is for many the definitive image of Hardcore.

It was around this time that Hardcore first visited his holiday home, a saucepan. Mike wrote on the side 'He don't like it in Îere', and it was true, he didn't. He didn't like it when they dropped him in some mud in the back garden either.

Just before the humans were due to leave North London their landlord visited, saying 'Oh, you have looked after my fish! My nieces and nephews will be pleased!' However, Hardcore decided to take his chances with the others, and headed for the more trendy surroundings of fashionable Brixton.

It was in his new home that the shadow of death settled on Hardcore's fishy shoulders. Amy Keene began her evil campaign to murder him by overfeeding him. This was a common reaction. Matt Collins' first thought when he saw him was 'Can I drop a paving stone on him?' People began to fear the worst. When Paul Fowler was woken on the morning of Princess Diana's death with the words 'Paul, wake up, we've got some bad news,' he replied, 'Is it Hardcore?'

Having proven his physical 'hardness', the humans decided to toughen him up mentally. The sides of his tank were decorated with a mirror, a piece of paper that read 'You are scum. You are worthless', and a photo of a cat's face peering in. Hardcore was so hard he hardly noticed.

Amazingly, Hardcore survived a year in Brixton, mainly by relying on the kindness of strangers. Friends and girlfriends were drafted in to clean his tank, Mike and Tony having long since given up. Si had even moved out to avoid doing it.

Hardcore and friends moved to the Oval, to the house that would turn out to be his final resting place. By this time he had cemented his relationship with Lainie the Australian. Despite their closeness she insisted on calling him 'Pookie', but she did truly care for him. She fed him whenever she remembered and cleaned him every six months. By this point, that was an improvement.

Hardcore was fading fast, but in December 1998 he managed to have the best New Year's Eve of his life. No one who was at the party round at Hardcore's place can forget the hilarious double act he formed with Paul Fowler. Paul would approach someone, hands clasped together and say 'Guess what I've got here?' He would then open his hands, and there would be Hardcore, merrily twitching away as if his very life depended on it. How we laughed.

It was at the same party that the human guests learnt why they use the expression 'to drink like a fish'. So much red wine was poured into Hardcore's tank that even the Lego man must have been a bit drunk. Also, someone (probably Amy Keene) emptied an entire container of food into the water. Hardcore ate and ate and ate. Well, it was New Year's Eve, he deserved a treat.

The next day saw the first of Hardcore's major health scares. He was so ill he had actually changed shape. Bloated, twisted and with a massive arse, he did not look well. Somehow he recovered, and he lived out the rest of his days in quiet reflection of his life. He passed away on Sunday June 27^th, and, in typical fashion, was buried quite a few days later.

We must not be too down hearted. Hardcore would have wanted a celebration of his life rather than a sombre period of mourning over his death. And, whilst we keep his memory alive in our hearts,