Latvia part trois and the trip home

The following morning at the hotel I was to learn that most of the cast stayed awake all night and even went to the beach skinny dipping. I'm so glad I went to sleep now! I wouldn't have heard the last if I'd shit out of getting in with them and I certainly wouldn't have been able to live with the shame (even if it was only spoken about when I wasn't around) of them all bearing witness to my tiny baby's cock. Phil went and apparently didn't want to go in and so that's where Clive with the assistance of one or two of the others decided for him that he was going in, and in he went clothes and all. As he recounted the story to me, he was still shivering with cold.

Clive was on full pissed-up, piss-taking mode. 4 hours of sleep was worth having over drinking heavily and getting naked on a beach of a foreign former soviet republic at fuck off o'clock in the morning, provided ample fuel of his wind-up pursuits. Just when I thought I'd won him back with a little joke of my own he'd return pass with, "how would you know mr Mackrill? You were asleep!!" in a childish girly "sticks and stones will break my bones" manner. As I was still absolutely gutted about the rugby result, I wasn't in any mood to deal with it, he'd won today so I just kept quiet occasionally emitting a "fuck you Yeti!" only when absolutely necessary.

a Yeti, yesterday.

The queue at the airport for check in was huge. Then the queue for departures was huge-er! This didn't bode well with everybody being in their hung-over bloody mess. Even though I had ended up cut off from them about 20 meters behind, I could 'feel' the moaning and grizzling going on.

I'll say many nice things about Latvia from what I know of it. It's absolutely beautiful, it reminded me very much like Bavaria in Southern Germany. But the people have that typical Eastern European/Russian look. Even though it's hard to explain you must know what I mean. Well, just go to Llanelli or Peterborough, there's thousands of them there! Latvians don't give a fuck about queues.... And they DO give a fuck about queues! I saw loads just think, "fuck them all and fuck this shit for a spot of cat juggling, I'm off to the front!" and do just that. Then at the same time loads of others saying (but in Latvian) "OI!!! Where the fuck do you think you're going cunty?!?"

The flight was smooth as a baby's bot. Which was nice, I was hoping it wasn't going to be as shaky as the one on the way over. Boy, was it Shaky!!!

- Shaky!

During the flight, two people got up and were talking in the space between one lot of rows of seats and another, that section over the wing. She was very attractive, probably in her mid 30's blonde and slim. He was tall, slim and slightly unshaven. He looked a little bit like Boris Becker except his face was slightly less like he had been in a vacuum chamber.

Boris Becker - Vacuum Chamber face.

They seemed very candid with one another. But then I noticed her mannerisms toward him change. I could hear bits of what they were talking about and then it came to me that they didn't know each other at all and he was giving it, "So do you come here often... what's a nice girl like you doing on a plane like this" etc. So what probably happened was she'd got up for a piss but couldn't get through because of the trolly in the aisle and him, spotting her from some distance, figured it would be a good time to chat her up. He was American I think, she Australian. In her efforts to not make eye contact, she noticed me watching what was going on. The aisle cleared and she made her escape, but as she passed me, she gave me a rolling of the eyes expression as if to say, "Jeez I can't go anywhere without some letch trying it on!"

I was on my own through the flight so I paid through the nose for some wine. As I had an iPod but no headphones, I managed to conjure enough courage to ask a flight attendant to borrow some. He kindly agreed! So I sat down, opened my wine and was just about to launch myself into some missed episodes of Days Of Our Lives, Vladamire-the royal pain in arse-Ovic decides to strike up a conversation with me about Harley Davidson bikes. I was wondering when that was going to happen as he'd been eyeing the Harley jacket I'd been wearing.

He was actually a really nice guy and I'm glad he spoke to me. His name wasn't Vlad, I have no idea what it was. Being knee deep in conversation about lots of things made the flight whizz past and before I knew it, we were landing.

The Air Baltic Plane that brought us home.

Once on the ground, bags collected and in the van, we were on our way home.

In the Van, a row erupted with the girls (principally Katie) and Greg, the stand in for Greg (his son) it was quite funny but also quite tense. It was an ill-thought out/not asked for/matters not to any fucker opinion of Greg's that wound Katie completely up. And rightly so! Suffice as to say Katie now agrees with me about him when she didn't before. Paul had mentioned before he'd even met any of us that "you either like him or hate him" And I can quite safely say that out of the 13 of us, NOT ONE of us like him. I think even Paul had words with him, and he's supposedly one the ones that either like or hate him, that like him. Not bad considering he was only with us 2 days.

The bit that I found funny, was when he was trying to show Jim some bass licks. Paul mentioned that he was a great bassist and had played with some famous band, so famous that I can't remember who they are and any songs they did, in the 60's. The only thing I remember of them is that Roy Wood (From Wizzard and ELO) was in them... once. Anyway, so there's Jim listening attentively while Greg is showing him a standard Rock And Roll walking bassline, the kind you'd learn on page one of "Play bass like a Moron" book 1 and talking about it with the command you'd expect from a University Lecturer.

WOW!!! Fucking move over Mark King, Victor Wooten, Billy Sheehen, here comes Greg from Birmingham! Not only that, he was playing it really shit anyway!

wooten - humbled.

King - Never can show his face in Brum again.

Billy Sheehan - Needs to practice.

Personally, after meeting him and thinking, "what a prick" I decided to give him a clean slate and start a fresh while packing down the kit at Glenroaths. I tried so hard to just have a decent chat with him but the problem is, he's a twat. He knows fuck all and talks too loud about it. He was on about not throwing "decent sticks away" I should learn how to file the end and shape it into a ball like a stick. I tried to explain the balance would be fucked then AND it would be shorter but he was arguing the point, so I ended up having to say, "Look shhh! speak when spoken too!" and from that point giving him a wide berth or ignoring any shit that happens to fall out of his mouth. It's a shame because his son, the other Greg, is a great bloke.

After getting to Clive's and collecting my car, it was back to Swansea. I have two days off and then it's up to Skegness, Scarborough, Dundee and Dunnoon.

Or so I fucking thought!!! It turns out Dundee and Dunnon were cancelled ages ago. I have no recollection of that email so when I got in, I checked and rightly enough, I DIDN'T GET ONE. The only email that would have suggested it's cancellations was a tour itinerary that I got which just doesn't have them in. Nothing about a cancellation. I am quite upset by it, how many gigs have now been cancelled. Again I remind myself that I turned down a Mediterranean cruise for this, move over Greg, there's one more for the twat bus!

Latvia part Deux

The bloody flight over to Latvia was horrid! I hate planes, I hate planes, I hate I hate I HATE!!! (stamps my feet like a child) I suppose by flight standards is wasn't anything out of the ordinary but anything other than a 100% smooth all the way with no surprise noises, bangs or shit such like, no extreme turns or change of pitch, altitude, speed, bank is a shit flight for me. Phil wasn't handling the take off well at all either. As he was worse than me I thought by helping him through it, it would somehow relieve my angst about the flight. Alas it didn't and what's more, 20 minutes into the flight Phil was fast asleep while I remained awake with sweaty hands, white knuckles and a bum hole "WOW"-ing like the mouth of an Goldfish after a training session.

I hoped the trolly dolly would come and relieve my nerves with an alcoholic beverage of my chosing. But they didn't turn up until 10 minutes before we made our decent, 2 hours later! And then we had to pay for it. And pay for it through the nose!!! Well, Phil did as it happens as I was skinty poohs! Thanks mate, I owe you one. And then to add insult to injury, the trolly dolly in question had a pop at a our "eeengleeeesh poooowndz" I couldn't help feel a little bit Alf Garnet:

"Listen up Vanya, Olga or whatever the fuck your name is, need I remind you that it was US that stopped YOU lot being over run by Germans? What's that, No? Right well that's just as well because it was the actually Russians and therefore my would be twatty retort falls down. I am sorry to have bothered you and yes you are quite right, us Breetessh are all assholes" Damn, why couldn't she have been French! So lacking something cutting to say, I remained quiet but mumbling to myself in Yosemite Sam (from Bugs Bunny Cartoons) type way.

I felt a lot happier once we were on terra firma but quickly reminded myself that I'd have to make the very same journey less than 24 hours later.

Once at the gig, I had a quick look at the kit and set it up to something that I'd feel comfortable playing. It was a DW kit that belonged to some famous Latvian band, hope the drummer didn't mind me fucking about with the tuning of it.

Jack the lighting guy had been there a day before us and had sorted so much stuff out it was amazing. He'd got us some stage props and a Harley Davidson Bike. We carry one around he theatres at home, but as this gig is very much, "to fuck away from home" we were conditioned to do the gig without it like we did in the Isle Of Man. Jack rocks! It would be awesome if he was on the tour with us. We had a quick soundcheck and headed straight for the food and drink that was laid on for us.

Some "light snacks" with Pheobe by passing all the chocolate and getting into the Salads!

There was a BeeGees tribute on before us so I went out front to watch, they were excellent. Shame there wasn't more people there to watch them. But this how I've come to know these festivals; No matter where and who for, if we're involved it's going to be like a Chernobyl.

That said, the humbling crowd that was there were very responsive and totally up for the party! Those crazeeeey Latvian Harley Davidson owners!

Then it was out turn. Thankfully a lot more turned up by the time we went on, but considering the size of the place it looked a little sparse, can't say I am not used to it.

Wayne buggered the running order of the songs and came out for Eagles medley too early. Due to this the next few songs were called on the spot until the set rectified itself. In spite of the momentary calamity, it didn't affect the show. He was very apologetic afterwards.

I had one or two issues myself. The $125 DW snare drum stand collapsed after second song. This meant the snare was now facing away from me and to hit it I had to bend my left arm over the top. As there were no gaps in between songs, I had no time to adjust. And when I did, the shite design that is that stand meant it was a bit of a ball-ache to do it and I had to take the snare drum off it completely before the dicking around with adjustment bolts etc. And this was in a gap of about 20 seconds. But I did it. To summarise my feelings on the DW brand, "Over priced shite!"

Apart from that the gig went really well and I played fine. But I didn't "dig" the ocassion like I should have. This was because the British & Irish Lions loss on South Africa, thus losing the series even of they win the third test. Everyone was up for a party after the gig, I simply wasn't and made myself scarse as to not bring the mood down of anyone else. I also had a headache that didn't go even after the painkillers and my ankle was still hurting from whatever it was that damaged it two days prior. Oh woe is me, I am such a poor dab!

I did get chatting to the other band. It turns out that we know all the same people. Zoe Xenofontos, John Haze, Kevin McCarthy, Tony Qunta are all mutual friends of ours. The guitarist is also really good mates with Ben Stone, the drum teacher at Percussion house in Swansea. To think to go all that way and meet people who know people you know, that know them, and you... Them! You get the idea. It's a small world init?

Once everything calmed down and we found ourselves at the hotel, Wayne got himself in another royal strop over some problem with the rooms. I'm not sure what it was but I think it was to do with not enough rooms being booked. But instead of just arranging with the promoters (who were with us at this point) for some alternate accommodation in a calm and collected manner, he elected to flap like fucking Swan in a dustbin. In doing so speaking quite rudely to the receptionist which was down right uncalled for; it wasn't his or even the hotel's fault not enough rooms were booked.

Nathan imitating Wayne flapping (background) about room fuck ups!

After a while it was sorted, Wayne, Laura, Katie and myself were to be given alternate rooms elsewhere but not far from the original hotel. I had a couple of drinks with Jarvis, Ian and Phil outside while transportation was on it's way.

Our transportation to the hotel with Wayne with a look like it's actually his dick!

When transportation did come, I decided as it was 4:00 am already, we were due to be awake at 8:00, I would go straight to bed and get what sleep I could. The others stayed and got even more wasted. I set an alarm for 8:15 and pretty much hit the hay without even a second to think about anything. This must be what sudden death is like.

Latvia part Un

6:15am I was up, phil was already all showered up when I woke. We both left the room and went down for some breakfast before we left.

In the absence of my usual cooked breakfast, I had some yogurt. Everyone was down and at the mini bus for 6:30 am. A frantic pack of the bus and we were off to the airport terminal, a mere couple of hundred metres from the hotel we were staying at.

A massive plume of smoke was seen to be rising into the sky from what seemed to be the far end of the airport. I frantically scoured local news to find information about it.

At check in Clive and I asked the attendant what it was: "it's the end of the runway" and left it at that. Even when we asked what it was she gave us no more of an idea and simply refused to answer, respond or even acknowledge we'd asked her in that downtrodden secondary school dinner lady type of way. Overall she was very robotic in her manner ad quite uninteractive. Can't say I blame her, she was Scotish, Arabic in appearance and working at Glasgow airport after all; that's enough to jade anyone.

After a short flight to Gatwick, a load of fucking about in transit getting luggage and a massive wait to check in, we were on a plane to Latvia.




-- Post From My iPhone

Glenroaths

Normally I take two or more post for each tour date with one being written in the morning on the way to the gig and the other after on the way home. But in this instance I find myself a day later without even starting one about this date. But in the interest of keeping the momentum up of this blog, I'll do my best.

I woke at the travelodge where Phil and I went across to Morrisons for something to eat. I had the rather unusual combination of Strawberries and cream as well as a full English. It was like that sketch from Little Britain. If you don't know which one I mean, then I'm sorry if that's lost on you. Needless to say sketch is bloody funny!

While at the cafe there, I saw a Simpsons doughnut! I've never seem one before and thought that it was something you'd only encounter in the united states. You know the one, that pink one Homer always eats? I even took a photo of it:






Simpsons doughnut. Ok it's similar but that's good enough for me.

Jarvis and Dan were having a royal nightmare trying to get the truck started. So we headed off without them knowing they'll get there eventually thanks to the AA. Jarvis made a noble, troop inspiring statement. The kind of thing that Custer would have said to his ranks before battle... And probably before he led them all to their bloody deaths at the hands of a load of pretty pissed off native amercans but I digress!

"We've never not made it to a gig... Ever! Go, we'll get there!!!!" It was worthy of an oscar, if he was an actor... And this was a movie. But he was right, he got there hours after us and set up like his life depended on it! Soundcheck was only half an hour later than normal and the whole gig wasn't affected by it at all. Kudos to you Atlantic Audio... Your nation is proud of you!

The truck is still buggered though which means to start it up they have to do this:






If you can't see what it is, they have to tip the cab up and short out the immobaliser. Quality!!!

There was a meeting called with some horrible news which shook the whole cast to the core. Nothing to do with Michael Jackson's death though, oh no! that was soooo yesterday!

We had to wake up at 6:00 am to be at the bus at 6:30! Some of us were white with horror. "But, but, but what about our sleep???? Waaaaaaaaaagh!!!!!"

After the trauma had subsided the gig went awesome. I played well as did everyone else. I don't recall any fuck ups at all.

For a change I'm not being sarcastic!.... Honest!

There was a panic to pull down with the chaos that will be the Latvia date tomorrow and all the logistics involved. But despite that we were at Glasgow Ramada hotel in time for a a few drinks at the bar before a measly 4 hours sleep. Being a hardened, ass kicking and taking names Rock and Roller like myself, this was merely a walk in the park.

Before bed we watched Lilly Allen at Glastonbury. "this song is about finding the perfect guy but finding out he's shit on bed!"

Well here's an hypothesis for you miss Allen, maybe you don't turn him on with you pathetic cockney bollocks!

Just an idea?
-- Post From My iPhone

South Sheilds part 2

Build up South Sheilds

So after hours and hours of endless roads, we arrive as at South Shields. After a quick set up and soundcheck I went off to Asda to get something to eat. The others opted to go to the pub right across from the stage door.

After a few chicken wings and some wendslydale cheese with black current and apple (it's better than it sounds I swear even if does sound like a negative of a turd with load of undigested peanuts in it)
I headed back to the pub where I saw this sign:




Perhaps a Gay club, Sperm bank or jizz ostacle course? You decide.
I then saw this sign on a pub wall:


Showen? I'm sure it's meant to be "showing" But this is to do with the local dialect. But in Wales, we wouldn't have a sign saying "ow mush, ewe can watch ewe sports ere init?" illiterate!!!! Sort it out England, it is your language after all. You're very quick to poke fun at foreigners that don't quite speak the Queen's English, no less us Welsh for our "isn't it?" "look now!" "in a minute now" and our "who's coat is that jacket hanging up on the floor after now in a minute... Now...look!" but somewhat more introvert when it comes to yourselves speaking your mother tongue.

I got back to the pub and was to learn that we had a reasonable turn out. After being gutted for having another pulled show, it came as some comfort to actually play to an audience. Much like a box of porn mags would be if you were in strangeways on a life sentence. Or a finding a can of Shandy Bass if your were a piss head on the Lost Island. I could go on but you get the idea.

I got back to the theatre and for the first time on this leg tour there were a load of Harley's outside the theatre.



See? Harley's outside the theatre, told you!!!




The customs house theatre - south sheilds


The show went, really well. Awesome in fact. No fuck ups whatsoever. No siree, we ALL played perfect. Toto wouldn't have done it better.... Honest! Don't look at me like that I'm serious!

Ok... I played like a twat! Happy???!! I dropped stick in the third song and because I didn't put any spares in my hihat holder, I had to play like Rick Allen (from Def Leppard) for the remainder of the song. I thought it wasn't noticed, if it was just down to the playing it wouldn't have been. But Clive made me from the wings and so had a rather derisery laugh at my expense. But I was to get him back later when he fucked up the words on the chorus of "sweet home Alabama" yeah, I got him back with interest.

You know how they say, "he who laughs last laughs the loudest"? He was to laugh last, longer and louder! In a unusual gap between Don't Want To Miss A Thing and the Tina Turner medley, I paniced and brought the fill in for Knocking On Heaven's Door which wasn't meant to happen until after the Tina medley. Jim and Ian followed me and after a bar and when I realised I'd made a Brontosaurus style of a fuck up, I stumbled to an embarrassing stop to sounds of giggling from either wings.

Humble pie is now served Mr Mackrill, hope you're hungry?
"(gulp).... Fucking starving!!!!"

After the show we had a drink at the pub again. News came through that Michael Jackson had died. Within minutes the jokes came flooding through from various sources. Out of respect, I'll not repeat them here. But my hand is forced.

We went for a Curry at a nearby Indian restaurant. I had steak and salad, the rest had a collection of hot untastful shit. I'm not a fan of Indian food. Wayne paid for it which was a lovely gesture. I feel bad now for taking the piss out of him. I'll swear to turn over a new leaf and give the guy fresh start.
I'm such a bastard.

Today we're off to Bonnie Scotland, as I type in fact. Meanwhile the lorry is still at Berwick on tweed as we couldn't get it started. The AA have been called so it looks like it will be a late get in and start. Who knows we might not even have a show.

Lets see!

-- Post From My iPhone

Back on the road - South Sheilds

After 5 long and boring days off, I find myself up at twat o'clock again for a twat's drive to South Sheilds... I must be a twat!

I spent last night at a gathering my friend Julia had arranged. I arrived late as I was at my sisters' with her kids for a few hours longer than I expected. We were all out in the garden where she had a steel bin burning random logs that had been lying around. I made the mistake of sitting down wind from it, so spent a good 30 minutes or so like one of the zombies in the John Carpenter horror movie The Fog. Needless to say having been unable to shower when I got home and getting up late to get to Clive's, I still smell like an arsonist this morning.

As usual, I was late getting up but thankfully I was astute enough to have sorted all the things I needed to take before bed so it was just a case of getting up, throwing on some clothes and getting into the car.
I arrived at Clive's at reasonable time and so we were off without issue.

After a small wait in Birmingham, the mini bus arrived and so we all got on and headed off into the wilderness which is North.




Fun in the mini bus, can't you just feel it?





Miles and miles of endless fucking north-bound road.


Others in the cast frequently moan about the comfort, or lack of, in the mini bus. Another regularly moaned about feature of the bus is that despite the 60mph speed restriction on it, Wayne still manages to drive it like he's being chased by the cops. But that said so far his driving has been reasonable enough for me to not want to rant on it. As I'm still on a self impossed rant ban, that's just as well. Though that didn't stop me having one in Clive's car on the way up to Birmingham.

One of them being about a Maysian man that came here in around 2002 and thus has just got a uk passport, moaning on tv that he's "british and proud" and wants to "contribute" and "pay tax" .... What a load of steamy bullshit! Being legit to be able to work, and after all he is skilled, fair enough! But "wanting" to pay tax? Who wants to pay tax???? Let's ask anyone over the 40% bracket shall we? Fact is, we HAVE to but hate it. We pay it whether we like it or not on fuel amongst other things. But we certainly don't give a rats ass about contribution either. As for him claiming to being British and proud? Fuck off!!! When I lived in the UAE, a lot of people I knew there were born, raised and have never left, the UAE. And yet they are not Emirati nor will ever be if none of their parents are emirati. Their rights to anything there are no more than a tourist that's come for a two week holiday when it comes down to it. My next door neighbour has lived in uk for 50 years and has never ever made out she's anything other than Polish. And if I had lived in Spain longer than the two years than I did, even if I had settled there, got a job, house and family I would still be British! End of! My kids if born there is a different matter as it would be with this guy in question.

So it made me laugh that this guy is calling himself British. He's no more British than I'm English. And I think that they (the English) would happily agree with me! It could be seen from the looks people gave him at this debate that they thought, "fuck off!" too but didn't speak out for fear of being attacked by pieces of wood with nails in it by the PC brigade.

Cynical? I guess so, absolutely spot on right? That's upto you to decide for yourselves. Everone's got a right to their own opinion after all. Free speech, you gotta love it!

So after that, I guess it's on to South Sheilds and what is most probably going to be a shower of steamy shit of a turn out for the show tonight. And as it's up northeast, "I canny wait man!"

-- Post From My iPhone

Run Forrest, run!

Hola ya' bastards!
(said like Mel B from Bo Selecta)
Having 5 days off from the tour with nothing to do has had me almost walking in circles around the living room in an attempt to relieve the boredom, that is until the dizziness overcame me.

I did go the the cinema on Sunday, was planning a movie marathon. I was planning to see Terminator - Salvation, Angels and Demons and then the new Transformers movie. In the end I just saw the Terminator movie because although the intention was there to watch all three, a forgotten factor was to then rear its ugly head: I'm as tight as a gnat's chuff!

I won't spoil it for you but I'll say that there's a lot of ass whooping and shit getting blown the fuck up. Oh yeah and something to do with a storyline somewhere.

Yesterday then, having eaten stuff I shouldn't have due to the boredom (that's what fat folk say) I figured a run of some sort would counteract it. I know it's weird fat person logic but I guess that must make me a weird fat person.

When I lived in UAE, I often ran along the corniche at night. Originally it was to hopefully knacker myself out so I could sleep with all the insomnia I was suffering. Sometimes I'd go for a run at 4:00 am. It didn't work I'll add, I'd return and I'd still couldn't sleep. But I did enjoy the experience. It was peaceful at that time of night and I enjoyed taking in the sea air. Abu dhabi is very humid so I'd sweat like a Mexican pig farmer. I will say though even at that time of night/early in the morning there was still no shortage of random Pakistanis just hanging around, and they love to stare, oh boy do they stare!!! Anyone that's lived there will know exactly what I mean!

So roll on to here and now and me being at home, Swansea is a seaside town so I figured as it was a nice evening, I'd go for a run along the promenade.

The promenade is also a bike track and years ago when I was into my bike riding, I often used to ride along it after cycling from the house before doubling back. I must say that we are blessed with a wonderful beach at Swansea and it's a shame that most people that live here take it for granted and don't give it a second thought. Not me! So after changing I to my shorts, putting some essentials into my rucksack (water, change of clothes, iPod, condoms- you never know?!?) I headed off to the beach.

I parked the car at Blackpill and crossed the road onto the cycle track. I planned to run to the pier an back, it's probably about 6 kilometers. But I didn't want to run more than 30 minutes so I set a 15 minute timer, when it alerts me I'd turn around. After doing some stretches, hitting the start button I was off to the sounds of Dream Theater. The Awake album to be more precise!

As the evening was sublime, I figured that I would take pictures to remember the event; it's proobably going to be some time before I'll do it again.


The cycle track bridge over a stream at Blackpill.



The eastbound track complete with "no shitting dogs" sign and doggy shit bin. Word of advice, don't use one of these to spit out a chewing gum into!!!




Westbound track. The dividing line is pedestrians to the left, cycles to the right. Not that any bastard pays attention to this though.


Mumbles head


This is where I eventually ran to, overlooking the bay across to where I ran from. Directly ahead is Blackpill. This shit is riveting isn't it folks?


Random Swansea folk doing a spot of fishing


The iPhone camera doesn't do justice to how awesome this looked.


Mumbles pier and lifeboat station



I was on the way back here. I messed up about the timer after wondering "Jesus, this is a long 15 minutes" after checking, it was set to stopwatch and I had been running for 22 minutes. Doh! So I thought it was a good time to turn around and start back!


Some small boats.... Great aren't they?


And eventually after running for another 22 minutes or so, I was back at Blackpill. This used to be the boating lake but recently they've changed it into more a kiddies pool.

There was one bloke at a bench in a trench coat and hat, so I told him that the schools haven't broken up yet and it's too late in the evening for anyone to be here. He looked at me bemused if not slightly angry.

Ok that didn't happen, but it would have been a great story to tell if it did!

After everything, I had run for about 45 minutes. My heart felt like I could have done another 45 minutes but my ankle was hurting me by now as were my feet. Then when after I had taken a breather, my right keg started hurt a lot. It's always my right leg that used to give me problems when I was running regularly. My technique must suck ass or something. I doubt I'll be able to run tomorrow but I'm glad I did today.

Hertford part Dos

I would say that 90% of the tour diary/blog entries have been composed on the iPhone while on the move, pretty much as the events happen. It's a great way to jot ideas down (not that I have any) if you're a creative thinker. I can imagine if I were a song writer, it would be an invaluable tool for capturing moments of lyrical inspiration. But as far as it concerns me, it great for occupying myself while on the long drives from show to show, battery permitting of course; my feelings of which are vast but that's best left for a blog in itself.

But at this occasion I find myself typing this out the day after the Hertford show and after a short sleep but at the computer instead of the phone. And man alive is it much better and easier to write a blog entry than on that bloody infuriating device! Especially when in transit. I spend more time back spacing due to typing errors... not mine though, the fucking PHONE'S!

To make a touch screen device work, they had to write software that kind of guesses what word you are trying to type given the variables in mistyping. So throw in some unknown words to it, slang and jargon and prepare yourself for frustration.

For example, the word "fuck" (one I use a lot) being too close spelling to "duck" it always guesses I am trying to say that word. "I told him to duck off" (back space) "I told him to duck off" (back space) "I told him to f-u-c-k duck off!) Even when I carefully selected the letter slowly, it selects duck again. AAAARGH! Being also that I have pretty fat fingers, mistakes are common. Like Midgets' cocks they are!

Of course it's more my fault because I am typing so fast to get all that shit out running around in my head, I don't care to be more accurate with typing. So typing the same sentence over and over again, with a failing battery and an element of car sickness creeping in, you can see how the frustration can make me see RED. So how it's not ended up in several bloody pieces is only a miracle. Though it's probably more to do with the fact I tend to think of the £150 cost I shelled out only 6 months ago whenever the rage overcomes me. Coming back to the point as much as like the iPhone and I suppose other touch devices, give me button anytime!

I suppose I better talk about the rest of the gig last night.

After my dinner, I set the drums up and sound checked. We ran a few tunes and discussed a change in the running order due vocal fatigue etc. It was no biggy, I just hoped that I'd remember it on the gig.

After, had a sit down outside with, Phil, Ian and Darren Juniper (Phil's bassist mate) who'd come to see the show. We discussed the up coming rehearsals and Queen tribute shows we are doing in Spain in August. I thought to myself about when I can take some time off to get to Abu Dhabi in between.

I had a walk around the town before heading back for the show. As I walked in, Jarvis and Paul were at their desks, so I thought I'd go up and have a chat. While there I looked at the stage and realised I had forgotten that the set looks great. With the lights and the shiny new Harley Davidson, yeah it looks great! And I also forget, whilst obsessing about no fucker coming to the shows, that it is a good show. That's what everyone says after all. Buster Bloodvessel (from 80's Ska band Bad Manners) came last night and he too loved the show!

But still like almost all the shows before it, it wasn't well sold. No surprises there! I joked with Pheobe and Nathan (they were travelling with us because we were driving past their homes) that the 66 in Route 66 signifies the average number of tickets sales. Route 66-people-in-tonight!

After driving through the night to Nathan's house in Reading, dropping Pheobe off at Leigh Delamare services, getting to Clive's in Brecon and then being dropped off at Ian's to get my car before the hour drive back to Swansea from Tredegar, I didn't get in until gone 5:00 am. It was like the Italian Job!

And still I didn't sleep straight away. Watched a little Redtube, blew my tanks and only then was I ready for bed...

Hertford part UNO!

I called it "uno" to add a wee bit of Español to the proceedings! Because I am cultured like that... more like sad! Oh well, at least I am aware of it. ¡Qué bien!

It's only been a couple of hours since I finished and posted my last post so I am fresh on the heels of it. I am currently in a Weatherspoons after having a rather awesome Mixed Grill and a coffee. But I am feeling a little uneasy.

As I type I find myself surrounded by piss-heads, waifs and strays the like you'd see on The Jeremy Kyle show, or "Court Kyle" as I have come to refer to it. I find myself clenching my fist and punching upwards in an upper cut type motion, like a Striker after scoring a goal whenever I hear that self righteous bastard say stuff like, "GET OFF MY STAGE, YOU'RE A DISGRACE MADAM!" "WELL WHY DON'T YOU PUT SOMETHING ON THE END OF IT MAN?!" "EXCUSE ME, IT SAYS THE JEREMY KYLE SHOW THERE!" "Let's get those all important life changing DNA results!" ... yes, Court Kyle is in session! ALL RISE!

Why am I feeling uneasy? Well, here's a starter for 10. Just a few feet from me is a 'gentleman' and a 'lady' playing the "deal or no deal" machine. Both are in late 40's/early 50's, covered in tatoos, he's got a skin head, she's got a poor quality blonde dye of sorts. It's just gone 3:00 pm and they are quite pissed. They talk like something from Snatch or Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. But they are clearly at odds with each other with regards to the questions and more specifically, the answers they are selecting from the multiple choice menus.

'NO' THA' FACKIN WAAAN, YOOO STOOOPED COW!"
'OIM TRYIN' ME BEST F' FAAAKSAKE!'
'.....YARA'CUNT!!!"

Etc.

I fear a full blown, council estate style domestic punch up at any moment. Not exactly what I would have put down on my to-do list today.

1. Get up.

2. Have a piss

3. put some clothes on

4. have breakfast.

5. get to gig

6. have something to eat

6. break up some scum bags punching fuck out of each other in the middle of the pub.

But I digress...

The get-in time for the show has changed from 12:00 (for pa and lights) to 14:00 putting, er well not really a cat amongst the pigeons, more like, A FUCKING LION amongst the Zebras! Soundcheck time was proposed to be put back an hour, I see that as reasonable enough, that's just from my point of view. But none the less, it was refused point blank. So souncheck is still 5 given the crew 3 hours to load and set everything instead of the 5 hours they've been having.

As a result, there's a tenseness a foot everywhere within the crew. At least that's how it feels, perhaps it's not quite as bad as I see it and perhaps it's just something that will die down after a few days. I hope it doesn't get worse though, no matter how that turns out it's sorta spoiling what should be a fun time for everyone (the soul wrenching feeling that IS playing to no one aside) Whatever happens, I am sure you'll get to find out here. It's like soap opera isn't it?

Ever wonder where the term Soap opera comes from? Nor me until just now. I wouldn't have imagined Pavarotti, Domingo and Carreras singing about the trails and tribulations of being at the toiletries aile at a Tesco's not knowing which cleaning product to chose.

Anyway, I have talked shite long enough. Battery is about to die on the computer and it's about time I went across to the Theatre to set some drums up! And incase you are wondering what they look like, here's a rather nice pic of it if I do say so myself.

More about the gig and anything else random later.

Torquay part 2

As I write my thoughts on the second part of the gig, in terms of writing this down, are simply: gig went well, not many in but better than expected, packed down and got back to the digs and went to bed. Being as true that is, that's not worthy of a blog entry so I'd better get with the elaborating already!

The theatre was the very same theatre we did on the last circus of horrors tour, the very same one that saw Gary stretch walk out after a row with Rob Mander and not come back. It seems like just last week that happened, not 3 months. Boy is this year trundling along!

The show was good, nothing notable which I guess means we all played well and the show went down good, bonus!

The digs were a holiday park near Clevedon; a break from the norm of Travelodges and Ramada hotels. There was a breakfast thrown in which made it worthwhile if nothing else. That said, the rooms (or chalets) were nice.

There was to be a gathering at Clive's room once we got back but I wasn't up for it at all. I was so hungry I could have eaten the scabs off a tramp's ass on a grass salad. Having no money and nowhere to spend it even if I had meant there was nothing I could do about it. Tethered with being really tired too I opted to go straight to bed while the others burned the midnight oil.

In the morning when I awoke I saw a missed call and text saying there was some food at Clive's room. This bothered me not as my hunger didn't prevent me sleeping and I was about to go breakfast anyway.

At breakfast I chatted to Paul.... 'nuff said! Bill Jarvis, Dan and Andrew were there too on the next table and mostly through theirs when I went over unannounced and said, "Hi guys! Sorry to spoil your breakfast but I've come to spoil your breakfast" in a "yeah I know everyone is cheesed off but that doesn't mean we can't still have a laugh" type of way. Needless to say it had a mild effect. Still I tried.

Before setting off to Hertford for today's show, Phil and I were admiring the work of nature that is Dan's beard. It started back at the head of the tour as a mild stubble, now 3 weeks in it's so thick I would suggest it might have its own Eco system. Just to make sure that it is real, I had a feel and stroke and boy it's got some masculinity! I don't know whether to class it as facial hair or something you'd wipe your feet on before entering a dwelling. I'll suggest to him later to have "welcome" dyed into it.

Still, it could come I useful should my toothbrush loses bristles.

Torquay - the English Riviera

After another day off at home (doing little apart from meeting my day old nephew, and boy what a ball of loveliness he is too, you did good my brother!) I find myself back on the road again with hefty dose of reality. I whine but I have to remind myself that in spite of its short comings, touring with this show is still a better job than what 90% of people have right now. So count your blessings Stevie boy!!!

...1, 2, 3, ...er, 4. Er, 5, no not that one. Ah, 5!!

(imagine me holding up my fingers one by one while racking my brains for that to work)

After doing a work out on Dad's bike and weights last night, I made a point of making a todo list so I don't go through the headfit again that I did two days ago because I hadn't organized myself. Though if I wanted to be organized I would just got everything done the night before so all I'd have to do on the morning is get my ass up and jump in the car.

... Well, and put some clothes on too of course. I mean, if I had just got up and jumped in the car, that would have been silly. Can you imagine the looks I'd get at traffic lights from workmen?

"Hey Reg, look there! That bloke's not wearing anything? You can see his Mott and balls!"
"Oh yeah, and his cock too.... just!"

But I did get everything done before leaving and left at perfect time to get to Ian's. And I did just that much to the relief of my fragile psyche; another freakout would have put me over the edge I fear.

So my complete psychotic episode will have to wait for another day. Probably when after all the usual getting up late shit, missing breakfast, speeding like a mad man, almost crashing and ending my life, getting lost, getting stuck behind old folks/school busses/tractors/cattle/a marching band playing (that are sometimes called "Jazz" bands, WHY?!?) only then to fumble while hitting a roundabout at 60 thus spilling hot coffee all over my legs and balls!

THEN would I be having my psychotic episode and quite rightly so.

But not today which in contrast couldn't have gone better. Still plenty of time for it to fuck up yet. We got to Clive's, jumped in and headed off.

Before I knew it we was in Torquay - The English Riviera, which I think is a funny term and one that doesn't really sell it to me. The very nature of comparing it to The Riviera in Portugal but tagging "the English" before it is almost like saying, "look, it's no way as nice but it's the closest thing we have to it ok?!" To further my point, are there signs on the Algarve saying, "The Portuguese Torquay"??? If I was a betting man, I'd say not!

There was an atmosphere when we arrived too, oh joy! It was all about the new arrival and soundcheck times and general failure (or lack of want if my opinion is known) to sympathize with others' situations. I'm being very general as to not get accused of being one of them. I play drums and for as much as I can, I stay out of being an active member in the politics. I think if I was, I'd be like Nick Griffin, leader of the BNP.

See what I did there, Clever? Yeah I thought so too!

Caiden John Mackrill

This has little to do with the tour, so I've not tagged it as "route 66 summer tour 2009" But I felt I have to tell the world this.

As you may recall, I mentioned in the closing part of the last post that "shit just got serious" This was because at 5 pm yesterday evening, my sister in law went into labour and we were told that the baby would be born within the next hour or so. Over the next few hours, no news came. So after the show, I packed down and called home... I waited for news but nothing came blah blah... Suffice as to say, the news came as I was almost home that my lovely new nephew was born at 01:20 17th June 2009 at a weight of 6 pound 12 ounces.

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Caiden John Mackrill.

Isn't he just awesome! Mum and Dad are fine and the happiest couple in the world right now, I am a close third!

Blackpool 2 - The Return Part 2

In the previous post I said that likened the return to Blackpool within the same tour period (month even) to a Hollywood movie with a working title of "Blackpool 2 - the return" because "the revenge" wouldn't have been a fitting term as it was likely to be another wash out shower of shit... And it was, but less so. It comes to something when you feel better about a show if it's not "as shit" as others. So being as we had over 260 in (though that's debatable) I think I'll review my supposed working film mataphor title from "the return" but not to "revenge" as that still isn't fitting. Hmmm, I got it!

Blackpool 2 - the half witted retort.

Ah, perfect!

Blackpool North Pier (Top and Bottom)

So like I said, 260 sold tickets. The company may have broken even tonight. But it's unlikely, I still worry about that every time we play a show.

The show went ok though I made a couple of booboos in the first half. I thought one of them I did in I'm A Believer was blatently apparent, but no one noticed. Though I remember Katie looking round at the time with a "what the fuck" type of look on her face. So I'll rephrase, no one in the band noticed. I must have made a good recovery! It goes against the old welsh musicians code - If you're going to fuck up, make sure you do it twice and loud enough for everyone to notice.

The view from the band's dressing room. You could pretend you were Kate Winslett and Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic at the end of this pier couldn't you. I mean, er, like you know, if you wanted to... um, if that's your thing. It's not mine but, you know maybe it's yours or something or other. Best continue I think.

My brother was expecting his first child as we were playing our first half. At the interval I was expecting a text or answerphone message with the good news, but nothing. After the second half, still nothing. And now it's 12:00 we've set down and packed up and driving home and still no news. I'm very worried about them now. I called home and not even they know what's happening. So forgive the lack of funnies, shit's just got serious!

I'm not a religious man but I'm praying to God now.

Geolocate this post.

Posted with LifeCast

Blackpool 2 - The Return

As it's our second time in Blackpool in less than a fortnight, I thought I'd make it sound like a movie: Blackpool 2 - The Revenge was my first title idea but in all probability it's going to be a bloody wash out like the first one was so "revenge" wouldn't be a fitting title to the second of the movie franchise "BLACKPOOL" ... Or something.

The day started well enough, I had an awesome breakfast and was up early ready for the drive to Ian's for 11:00. As I was getting my shit together I noticed my unshaved gimp in the mirror, so I thought I'd have a "quick" shave.

Being as we were only out for tonight, coming back after the show and so I wasn't taking a wash bag, I didn't want to go an stage looking like one of the Anthill Mob. Being out of blades, I thought I'd have a quick trim with my dad's electric razor (you can guess where this is going can you?)

If I had gone to the shops, walking on my hands, stopping off to recite a passage of Kanyan rhyming slang (if there's such a thing) to some rather bemused school children along the way, to buy blades, I would have done it quicker than I had done with this crappy invention.

Is it just me or is the electric razor one of THE shittest inventions ever? Isn't an invention by it's very nature meant to be an improvement through technolocial advancement to an established exercise? Like the motor cycle; someone took the bicycle idea, added a motor, voilà! Improvement! The Car - a metal horse that doesn't shit/piss gallons where it likes and doesn't throw you from its back because it had a paddy. What's more with a car, it can take more than one person (In case I've not convinced you yet) Again, an improvement through technology. The electric razor - supposedly replacing the age old razor and foam method but costs more (if you decide to buy a decent one) takes A LOT longer and does a totally SHIT job overall. I swear it's like the blades themselves cherry pick which hairs are good enough to be selected for the extra special facial hair elitist club, leaving clumps of dejected, deflated and disappointed hairs behind to dwell on being "not of good enough stock" to be taken to the promised land. Like the Ginger, four-eyed fat kid at a Sunday kick about! Well I say to you hairs of the people, "Rise up! Rise up against your oppressors, take back your birthright! All hairs are all equal and all hairs of the state have the same rights to liberty, justice and prosperity!"

All this went through my head as I desperately tried to clean up a very patchy looking face with one eye on the clock. The more desperate I was getting, the more it seemed to be doing nothing in terms of cleaning up the patches of stubborn hairs all over my face.

So what I'm trying to say is I was late because I thought I'd have a quick shave with an electric razor, something that I have now established as a contradiction of terms.

I got going but then I hit traffic. I thought I could make it up along the A465. I was doing well but then I came up behind Reginal Fesslewick, you know the sort! 80 years old, glasses so strong you fear he could burn his face if the sun came out, nose up against the windsheild, president and founder of 30mph speed appreciation society, just as we hit single lanes. Only so because of the miles of cones. Yeah, Neath borough council figured would be a great idea to close 15 miles of lane for no apparent reason. All along the way not one workman, van or machine was seen doing any work whatsoever. Though I did pass a piss-stained tramp with a can of tennent super at the side of the carriageway, maybe it was for him?

Anyway, it was then I tried desperately to send Ian a text to explain I'd be late. Anyone with an iPhone or other touch screen phone will know that writing a text while driving is one of the hardest things to do; yeah I know very dangerous and illegal. I'm a sinner! Failing in that, I tried to call him, also illegal. But I didn't have my hands free so I put I on speaker phone as I dailed his number and placed the phone on my shoulder like Long John Silver's Parrot. It was as he answered I applied the breaks to slow at an approaching roundabout. The phone flew from my shoulder and slid under my pedals, that's when I lost all rationalle, smashing the steering wheel with both hands and screaming like Linda Blair, spewing green vomit and cursing bad enough to humble the most severe Turrette's suffer. "FUUUUAAARRGHCKING FUUUAAAARGHCK!!!!"
I screamed so loud, it hurt my throat. It's still sore now as I type.

I did then manage to send a text at a traffic lights, I suggested to meet him in Abergavenny. He agreed and then Clive sent a text explaining he'd too be late. The pressure suddenly fell from me somewhat and so I calmed myself down. Things seemed to move more smoothely after that.

Met up up, got in Clive's car and so we were off to The Ancient Metropolis known as Blackpool.

More later.

Clacton, the mecca of rock and roll part 2

And so we continued the drive to Clacton. I was still feeling a twat for being totally suckered in hook line and sinker by the Evil Doctor Clive Jackson from Dr. & The Medics by his evil plan to take over the world by pretending to leave Phil and I at the Premier Lodge only to be totally disappointed that all he achieved was seemingly pretending to leave Phil and I at the Premier Lodge. (that's a gag that he'd understand)

Anyway, after a while the feeling a twat wore off. We got to Clacton West Cliff Theatre early and so there was no rush to build the kit up so we went off for something to eat.

That was welcomed as all I had that morning was some cold chicken drumsticks and 2 Babybels from the Garage adjacent to the Premier Lodge, even though there was a restaurant just a few feet away from the entrance to the Lodge, I didn't eat there but not through choice. "But Steve man, you're a growing boy with a growing boy's needs, so why not something more substantial to eat in't morning?" I hear you ask. The truth is it's a rant in itself and as I am on a self imposed Rant Ban, I cannot go into it for fear of doing just that! Suffice as to say, it quite annoyed me!

We chose to eat at a 'Spoons again. A 'Spoons by the name of "The Moon and Starfish" I couldn't help but notice the innuendo within the title and so asked the barmaid was the original plan to call the pub "The Arsehole" not approved? Furthermore, are there other pubs in the Weatherspoons chain in the area such as "The Beared Clam" or "The Meat and Two Veg"? She laughed but didn't reply!

I didn't have my usual Dr. Atkins approved Mixed Grill, instead I had my Dr. Atkins approved Chicken Caesar Salad. I love variety, uuuurgh! Ian had something that was supposed to be Chilli Con Carne but looked to me more like a bowl of Tramp Diarrhoea complete with specs of bog paper. Clive had something or other, but needed to add Spicy Chicken wings after he'd finished it so it can't have been worthwhile. Phil was sporting ANOTHER hangover and so didn't eat at all. I did try and tell him last night about his vulnerability to have hangovers after a few drinks, but he was confident that he would be fine as he was drinking Rose. Alas not!

We stayed for a while as it was a sunny day and I noticed across the street this:

I then imagined a surreal scenario such as this:
Judge - "Cheese Sandwich. I hereby sentence you to spend 10 years at her majesty's pleasure on the buffet car of an Inter City 125 train travelling from Leeds to London as a facade of a meal, overly priced and made from the poorest quality ingredients for crimes against mankind. JUST because you're sometimes made with Brown Bread and Low Fat Spread DOES NOT make you healthy nor nutritious. Do you have any last words?"
Cheese Sandwich - "Yeah y'ona. Oive bin stiched aaaap! Oil do me toim standin' on me 'ed oi wiiiiw! Y'aven't go me beat!"

..... Or something like that. It was while I was relaying this to the others I then realised that I am indeed a broken nail away from driving a bus load of kids off a cliff... as someone that was once very close to me used to say.

After getting back to the gig, setting up the kit and sound checking, it was show time. We were already told that ticket sales were shit again but it turned out a little better than we'd been told. There's was just over 100 there when we were were told there'd be around 99. Actually, I think it was more 130 ish. Totally shit for a place that would have taken about 500. Every night we play to pitiful attendances I feel a piece of me dying away slowly.

It still didn't stop me having a complete ball on the show though. It was hot up there too so I had my shirt unbuttoned almost all the way down. I was giving the dancers a flash as they walked past in between beats. It dumbfounded me that they didn't orgasm where they stood??? They must have not got a clear look my furriness and manly pecks, yeah that'll be it for sure!

There was some tomfoolery going on too. When Wayne introduced Bill as "Beaver Bill" he came out in onto the stage with no trousers on with just his boxers... Ho ho ho how we laughed. I haven't laughed so much since, since, since I sold my Skoda. Laugh, I nearly paid my Tax. Laugh, I nearly passed my fags round. Laugh, I thought I'd shit myself! LAUGH? I THOUGHT WE'D NEVER START! Wayne couldn't carry on with his speech for laughing... man, such a party was going on, when we roll, WE ROLL BIG! They are all such cads, I jest yee not!!!! hahahahahaHAHAHAHAAAAAAARGHYABASTARDS!

... note my sarcasm?

And here's one for all the Circus Boyos!

STOPLAUGHINGNOTFUNNYSHIT! Well, it was funnyish but not deserving of the milking it got in my HUMBLE opinion.

We have a massive long drive back to Wales now. Phil travels to Sutton Coldfield in the Minibus with the rest of the cast and he's already texted me with his angst! Ah, bless his cotton socks but it was his choosing, so suck that shit up!

So we have a day off, then it's back up to Blackpool, that shitty tower (but it's OUR shitty tower) tacky kiss me quick hats, foreign bar staff with better English than the locals and most significantly, PLAYING TO NO BUGGER! I canny wait!

Until then....

Clacton - rock and roll Mecca!

Before I begin with today's post, a shout out to some friends that I know read this.

Olivia Middleton - ignore that fat mouthy biiiaaach!
Sarah Garaway, Lo Sez! I'd apprecaite the link to that bloke you were telling me about.
Sean Murphy bar manager extraordanaire, hey Sean! Hope all's well there. Sorry to hear about Pang' such a shame. Miss you buddy!!!!
Shaun Holton - rising Australian Superstar. Watching your progress with awe in what you're doing with your music. You rock, you know you rock and I'm planning to keep telling you you rock for ever. We know it's true! Downloaded your tune from iTunes, it's amazing to think we were playing together just a year ago.

Right, onto today.

I didn't go to Clive's last night for the party, just wasn't up to it after last nights gig. I wasn't planning on drinking so coupled with my mood, I would have only been likened to the grandad at a kiddies' birthday party that comes down from upstairs and shouts "keep the noise down, I fought two world wars for you little shits! Have some respect...!" but without all the self righteous ranting.

Then again, the ranting, despite my efforts to calm would probably have manifested itself should someone have mentioned such topics as:
Teenage pregnancy
Knife crime
Immigration
MP expenses scandal
The labour party and Gordon Brown
Modern policing tactics
The gulf war & war of terror
Benefit cheats
Jeremy Kyle
Gordon Ramsey
Russel Brand & Jonathan Woss (see what I did there? Oh yes I'm a bloody comic genius me!!!)
The Teletubbies
and finally the hypocrasy, heresy and propaganda that IS, and I'm serious as Cancer when I say Rhythm is a Dancer....

Nursery Rhymes & Children's songs! Puff puff puff siiiiigh!

So instead I stayed in the room and watched "100 most funny films of all time" The Life Of Brian being the winner. Good call! Though blazing saddles was number 2! Good call too. Talking of Heresy, according to ancient texts within the book of "apparently" the now mayor of Abwrystwyth was in The Life Of Brian. It's been said that she played Brian's girlfriend. If that is indeed true then the Lord Mayor of Aberystwyth got her bushy minge and tats oot for all to view on that classic piece of celluloid. And (and this is most probably the actual true bit) it was still banned up until her coming to office. She held a special screening of the movie in the town to celebrate the lifting of the ban.

Now who says that welsh politics aren't cutting edge now eh?

Clive called me at 12:10 saying, "right, we're off. So there's a taxi number on the desk. It's £35 to Clacton so we'll see you there!" not knowing if he was serious and with phil still in the shower I just said, "right ok!"

So upon leaving the lodge, NO CAR! I thought, "fucking bastards!" Phil came out a few minutes later and was dumbfounded at the notion of being left behind. After a few texts back and forth, it was indeed true we were left behind ad instructed to get a taxi. So I said that we'd in fact get a taxi but not to the gig but the fucking train station and they can find a replacement drummer and guitarist.

It was at that point a smug looking Clive - the doctor from doctor and the medics - (as it says on his passport) Jackson came to view. The fucking bastards had been hiding around the corner having a right ol bubble! (as in bubble bath - laugh. For those of you not familair with nuances of modern Cockney rhyming slang)

Yeah we were well punk'd.

Off to the gig, more later.