Weymouth Pavilion

Like Port Talbot was the local gig for me, Weymouth is the local gig to Phil and Dan being both Weymouth residents. Good for them, as it was for me, that they wouldn't have to get going to the gig until late into the day unlike the rest of us travelling shmucks. But less so for Dan being the monitor man; all crew generally arrive 2 - 3 hours before the cast. This is NOT the case with The Circus Of Horrors as everyone arrives at the same time and leaves at the same time, or there's hell to pay...

I've just thought about that saying:

"Excuse me waiter, could I have the bill please?"

"Certainly. That will be £27.65 including service charge"

"Do you accept HELL?"

"Eh?!"

So like all the other one off gigs, I was at Ian's to meet up and leave in Clive's vehicle but arrived late AGAIN! I simply cannot leave on time anymore, I think it's something that is programmed into my DNA, it's like my subconscious form of rebelling, much like what a fucking little bastard of a child does when you say, "Go to bed!" "No!" "Clean that up!" "No!" "Do your homework!" "NO! NO! NO!"

- a typical little bastard.

We arrived at the Pavilion and said our hellos. Dan and Jarv were as busy as Jews at a Tax inspection. Bill was hovering about, Greg and his mate were putting up the screens. Phil (and thus keys to his van where all the backline was kept) was nowhere to be seen, so I waited in the stalls until he arrived. He turned up about 20 minutes later and so I got my gear in and set it up.

- my awesome kit set up - yesterday.

Jaime came and wasn't planning on seeing the show but after some coaxing, she caved in. Paul, the guitarist friend of Phil's came too and kept her company.

Another addition to the "Get fucked" list of cast members is Anna. The week before the show she called up the office complaining feeling under valued and thus demanded all her money paid up or she'd not show up for the next gig. Suffice as to say, John told her to "get fucked" in a manner of speaking and so that was that. She wasn't planning on doing anymore shows after the 31st August anyway.

So the show consisted of Leona, Laura and Pheobe. With no prior rehearsal as this line up, I was expecting it to be a little rough around the edges. But it was ok, there were a few boos-boos but less to do with them than the rest of us.

AGAIN the fucking click track for the Neil Diamond Medley caused a fuck up. This time Greg brought it in too early and left it go. I had to stop in the middle of a bar and start playing the Neil Diamond medley while the rest of the band were tailing off Burning Love... it was a bit of a mess but it came round in the end. Jeez!!!

After the show, we all went out in Weymouth. We opted for a bar called The Nook, it was a bit of a yuppie pub but it was ok. Other options consisted of rough music pubs, which was ok for me but others wanted a quiet drink etc so The Nook it was.

After one drink, I volunteered to drive Phil's van home so he and Jaime could have a drink. She very kindly bought me a dirty, greasy; anus, eye-lid, hoof, intestine and ear lobe-filled Kebab as a thank you... More like a punishment but I wasn't complaining, it was my choice after all; I should have thought more about what I wanted instead of randomly pointing and saying, "I want that one!" like Andy Pipkin from Little Britain.

"I wan' tha' one!"

As Wayne was staying at Phil's like me, he would have had to get in the back of the van as there were only space for three on the front including the driver. They'd all had been drinking so only I could drive. It was Phil's van so he wasn't getting in the back and he too wouldn't allow Jaime to go in the back on account of him. After we all decided to not have a Curry with him, he went alone to find it closed and came back a little miffed. People that know Wayne know that to him Curry is like Spinach to Popeye. So continuing his pout, he didn't want to go in the back but to walk the 5 miles to Phil's along country roads in the rain. Clearly as a martyr to his cause, long live the fucking revolution!

As it happens, it was only 3.4 miles, I've just checked on Google maps!

I thought, "bollocks!" He'll say that he would walk but jump in a cab, search for a curry house, eat it with a face like a bastard on father's day and then turn up at the house after pouring a bottle of water of his head to imitate a drenched look looking sad like a sodden dog. But to my surprise, he was true to his conviction; a mile up the road on a duel carriage way there he was walking with his head down. Phil came all over guilty and said, "Oh for fuck sake, there he is. Turn the van around, I'll get in the back!" But when we got to him and beeped, he didn't cross the road and kept going. So I carried on, turned around so this time I would be on the same side as him. He still didn't come. Then the Police stopped along side and shined a torch in my face; why the fuck do they do that? A panic of questions immediately ran through my mind:

Have I got insurance?
Will I be tested with a breathalyser"
Will I be over?
Will they fine me?
How will this affect my work prospects (as I have t drive other vehicles etc)

All this went through my mind all because of this bloody fiasco. Thankfully once they realised the situation and left but followed me for a few miles. I am sure I wouldn't have been over the limit and been insured to drive but it did cross my mind for a few seconds while the hole in my ass was chewing the seat.

After about 30 minutes, Wayne turned up at Phil's and in decent sprits, quite chuffed he'd walked the whole journey. We all sat and drank wine/beer while talking about the show and its politics for a few hours before bed.

Before I finish this post, I feel I should post a video:

"MAIBRAYNE HERTZ, MAIBRAYNE HERTZO MUTCH"