My Abu Dhabi trip

Trip is a good word to describe this little impromptu holiday of mine. But not a trip like, "maaam, I tripped and fell.. Waaaaagh!!" or even "I am going away on a trip!" (though that would be the most literal term) but more like the Mick Jagger/Keith Richards, "woah maaaan, the 60's was trip!" type of trip.

I've let a few gigs slide in terms of posting the account in this blog. The Goldstar rehearsals and then the Gig and the last Freedom gig have gone by the wayside through a lack of time but also now that the swing of the Route 66 tour has ended, so has the swing that was my motivation to write a blog about it. A big apology to any of you that check every day with baited breath in anticipation of the next installment. I have failed you, I know it and I'm sorry!

Man, how self righteous am I?

I had 12 days to kill as a Freddy and the Mercury's gig was cancelled. Faced with 12 days of nothing, what was likely to happen is a lot of twiddling my thumbs, wanking, making a fucking nusance of myself to my folks, going to my sisters house while she was out, tormenting their dog by given her Toffee, knocking on people's doors and running away before they answered, calling a Pizza house and asking for "Amanda Hugankiss" etc etc I realised all in all that I should get away. Qatar airways had an excellent promo for Ramadan so I decided to take the plunge and head back east... Middle east that is!

The flight over was scheduled from Gatwick for the morning after a Freddy And The Mercurys gig in Diss, near Great Yarmouth (there's fuck all Great about it I have to say!) So with logistics the way it was, I had to stop at Stansted Airport on the way back from the gig around 02:00, getting a bus to Gatwick from there at 04:30 arrving at Gatwick at 06:30 flying at 10:15 having had NO sleep. Well, not true exactly, I slept at a pub (and almost missed the flight) in departures as it had a lovely leather sofa and no one to do my head in! You know the sort, OLD PEOPLE faffing about wondering if they packed enough Preparation H for their trip or fucking kids crying for whatever reason they see fit. Seriously, if the Government wants to limit the number of Teenage Pregnancies just play the sound of a screaming child to these Chavs whilst in the midst of passion (if you can call it that) and I guarantee their erection will deflate quicker than a balloon being blown-up by a piss-head!

The flight over to Doha was fine or as fine as flying can be, call me old fashioned if you will but I still hate being in a piece of Aluminium (Aluminum to my American friends) at 35,000 ft travelling at 500 mph!

But I will say that if you are the sort that choses who you fly with, I totally recommend Qatar Airways. The only thing I would say that was missing was a complimentary gobble off one of the Trolly Dollies! Failing that, they are excellent. When I booked the ticket online it asked "food preference" and I ticked something and thought no more of it. One hour in to the flight, out comes the nosh and sure enough a tray with MY NAME ON IT comes and it was exactly what I asked for! AWESOME!

They aren't shy in handing out the piss too, I need about 5 wines before I can chill out and sure enough they dished out without issue. None of the "tutting" and "huffing" like you'd get on BA flights! They did have one stipulation, that I drink out out of a glass without the small bottle being present. This is because it was Ramadan and something about Alcohol and religious blah blah etc I said, "If you keep them coming, I'll drink them out of my arse crack!" .... they didn't see the funny side.

I watched Harry Potter and the Philosopher Stone, the first movie and I really enjoyed it! I plan to claw through the series so that I can finally go to the cinema to watch whatever is the latest one.

I will say that no matter how much they say to turn off all electrical appliances especially mobile phone on these flights to the middle east, there's always one cunt that thinks that the text message conversation he's having with some bitch (because it would have to be that wouldn't it?) is more important than interfering with the Avionics! Again (as it's happened a few times before) I had to politely mention "Oi!! Turn off the phone for fuck sake is it??!!!"

At Abu Dhabi (after a quick stop at Doha) I got fleeced by an Indian Taxi driver, what a way to start! He said "80dhms to City" when it should have been no more than 50dhms and he only gave me 10 change of a 100! Oh, well after 5 years living there I should have been used to it. But I was tired and didn't want to start my holiday with a row with some Indian fucker on a crusade to fleece whitey, blacky or anyone of any colour, religion and creed!

More on what happened next...

Aviemore part two and Route 66 tour finale.

After a crappy attempt at a sleep, it was time to head downstairs for the gig.

It's taken as red that this will be the last show for many of us and certainly the last show for us as a collective, so Clive made a bit of a speech as we were all gathered around for the "fingering"* session.

The room was chocka with Harley Davidson owners. The similarity between these and other biker gangs such as The Hell's Angels or the Outlaws is that they are based on a collective of bike owners. That might be enough as a comparison but only when you know what the Hells Angels and Outlaws do as well as ride bikes you'll know that they are not to be compared, ever! Generally Harley owners are wealthy, middle class and law abiding in nature. Think smart suits/Mecedes/BMWs/executive lunches/accounts management/profit and loss assessment by day, relaxing with the wife, tucking the kids to bed by night. Leathers and bandanas at the weekend. Whereas for the Outlaws and Hells Angels it's drug dealing/having enemies "whacked"/battering holy shit outta folk/organised crime by day, ... And pretty much the same thing by night and weekends dispersed with a trip to the shops for milk or something but possibly on a motorbike as it's cheaper on fuel than taking the APC.

Anyway I digress. We fired through the set that was taylored for festivals like it was in Latvia and Isle of Man as well as other shows such like.

It went really well, the crowd loved us and for a small time there, it was almost like being in a decent show. The band played as well as it's done all summer and I for one was sad to play the last note. But life must go on.

After the gig Phil handed in his notice with John (who'd come to the gig) as he'd got Circus of Horrors in November thanks to me.

Being the last gig, a piss up the likes the whores of Babylon would have felt humbled to be a part of then ensued. Well that was the plan, what actually happened was a little tame in retrospect. Certainly Clive, Leonna and Laura got extremely wasted but me, not so much so. I do recall as I left the bar at the hotel to go to bed, Clive went to get up, fell off the seat to the floor and remained in an upright position for sometime unable to tell shit from dirty cakes.



Shit



Dirty cake

Another enduring memory was going to the bar to buy two drinks and being charged £12. I got a laugh from all that were there when I said outloud, "Credit crunch my arse, not for these charletan bastards!!!!"

Two pissed up northern Irish, ex squaddie twats decided to join us. They said, "do you mind of we join you?" but proceeded to sit down with us anyway before we could answer. As they had just basically jumped into a conversation that was in mid-flow, they didn't feel it unwelcomed to just pass idiotic comments from their side of the table. I knew at this point I'd be retiring to bed shortly. One of them had a glass eye that was shot out by an IRA terrorist in the 90's. If so, I'm not surprised, he was probably aiming for his mouth to shut him the fuck up. Then again, for all we knew it could have been a pile of steamy bollocks and he'd in fact lost his eye when he fell off his tricycle. Or maybe when as a child your parents would to say, "stop waving that (insert what you like here) about, you could have someone's eye out!" they were in fact telling the truth and his eye was taken out when his friend or sibling waved a piece of toast about... Or something. It could happen!!!!

The next morning, Phil and I had some breakfast before leaving. I wasn't hungry and could have certainly done with the extra kip but after spending a mortgage on drinks the night before, I was determined to get my money's worth. I was contemplating taking pockets full of salt, pepper, sweetners, napkins, plastic spoons, ANYTHING just to make it feel in my mind that I'd robbed them as much as they had me and everyone else in the company.

The trip back to the airport took us through some beautiful countryside that had everyone going, "oooooOOOH!" to because they'd seen a few trees in a hill or something. I did my "pah bollocks, it's fuck all like Merthyr!" bit as usual.

The others were flying on a different flight to Birmigham that was delayed because of a problem with the plane. Thank fuck we weren't going on that one. Ours was on time but it seemed like ages before we were to board. We all waited about, drank coffee and chatted about all sorts of shit to kill the time.

Inverness is a small airport andas we queued to board our plane, we watched as the others took off on the now fixed plane.



Their plane as it taxied to take off after having a new carbaretta fitted, or something.




Our much less shitty plane.

The flight back was ok, no pretty lady to distract anyone this time. The landing at Bristol was well shaky, Phil almost consumed the seat he was sitting with the chewing motion his anus was doing. Yeah, like me he's not a good flyer either.



Shaky - I did it before but I had to do it again Ian.

Safely on the ground, we all said our goodbyes and went our merry ways. The fucking end.

Phil and I were to leave for London to two days rehearsal with a 50's rock and roll band called goldstar (www.goldstarrockandrollband.com)
Maybe I'll put a post up about that, we'll see. But just for anyone from route 66 reading, it's been a honour and a pleasure working with you this year. Keep in touch, don't be a stranger and if you're ever in Swansea, don't even think about staying at mine, I live with my folks like a sad douche for fuck sake!!! Go and see Ian or Clive, they got loads of space.

Goodbye and farewell you set of bastards.


*fingering.

The act of sexually stimulating a female by inserting one's first, middle, index finger into the vagina and rubbing the vaginal walls... Apparently.






An expression that indicates a person has been identified as a perticipant to some degree in a criminal act or acts.

The pre-show ritual of Route 66 where cast members would gather in a circle side of stage with arms out stretched, fingers touch generally the person opposite with a wiggling movement whilst another more senior member wishes a good show to all.


-- Post From My iPhone

Route 66 @ thunder in the Glenns (harley davidson festival) Inverness - Scotland.

This is the last show of the summer tour and also the last show with Route 66 for many of us as in November (the next tour period) most of us have opted out for other work. Phil and myself have got the Circus Of Horrors tour (which he's got me to thank for) Laura is at Wigsteed, Phoebe has taken a teaching job, Nathan is doing essence of Ireland and Ian is on a Panto "oh no he's not!" leaving Clive, Leona, Jim and Wayne Denton being the only performers left from the tour before.

As sad as that is we do have one more show to do before it's all grinds to a halt.

The day started really early for me. I was in Kings Lynn having played a gig the night before at a random pub for average random run of the mill bastards. It was a jolly jape mainly because I was playing with Dan and Jem, two guys I'd spent over many years with in a band between 2001 and 2007.

The drive to Bristol was actually ok and not as horrible as I'd expected. I guess this was because of it being a Sunday. Well that and buzzing from the amount of red bull and black coffee I'd consumed en route! I swear I looked like a fucking owl by the time I arrived at the airport.

I parked up and proceeded to the airport where a certain Phil Walker (Texas Wanker) and Ian (tabs and cans) Kimber were waiting at the coffee shop.

Shortly after, Clive arrived as did Dan and Jarvis.

Checked in, through to departures it was high time we started the drinking frenzy. Imagine if you will, an African plain at the close of a drought just as it starts to rain... T'was quite similar I tell thee!

With us all suitably pissed up, it was time for the free for all that is getting aboard and finding a seat. Long gone are the days where they'd allocate you a seat with a nice easy, even a moron after an op could understand row and seat number. It's every man, woman and child for himself. Personally speaking even I, a renowned pasofist told various members of the general public to "GET OUTTA MY FUCKING WAY!!!" admittedly OAPs and toddlers but principally it was the same okay?!!



The plane that took us to Inverness.

Ian and I sat together and just beside us on the same row was a rather pretty girl who turns out to be getting back to Scotland. She must be the only one, all the jocks I met in abu dhabi never wanted to go back there for fuck all. Mind you, there's a difference between Inverness and Glasgow. Much along the same lines as say Bagdad and Disneyland. Except Glasgow is far worse!!! (Joke)

Chatting to her about the show and her life in Australia and various other countries made me NOT think about falling from the sky in a screaming firey ball sort of resembling and aircraft.

Boy do I watch way too much Aircrash Investigation!!!!

Once on the ground, the hole in my ass closed again and we met up with the rest of the cast who'd flown from Birmingham. As the tajectories are very similar, we could have played wacky races if the pilots weren't such sticklers for protacol. That's their trouble if you were to ask me, all hunk and no funk!

We took a bus down to Aviemore which was set deep in the highlands. The scenery was awesome. Everyone was commenting on it. Me being the disaffected welsh twat I am kept muttering to each comment made of the surroundings, "pah!" and stuff like, "that's fuck all compared to Treorci mate!"



The bus that took us to Aviemore.

At the hotel, Phil and I decided to go straight to the venue and set up.

The gear was mostly supplied, all apart from guitars. They gave me a yamaha 9000 kit which is a classic kit from the 80's. So much so it's still in production which considering the fickly world of drums, is a testament to it's sound and design.



Yamaha 9000 recording series drums. Oh, baby!!!
Pah, mine's still better!


View from the stage.





All about to soundcheck, Phil chuffed as fuck with the Fender Twin, Kit was lovely looking and sounding, Jim.... Ah, Jim, can you not just be content with anything???

Soundcheck went smoothly, Jim had his usual niggles with his monitor mix. I think if that guy had Pink Floyd's Turbosound rig to himself he'd have issues.

After soundcheck, it was time for dinner. I could have had anything, steak ala GOD made with a sauce made from batter of the pussy of Claudia Schiffer, but NOOO! Mr fucking healthy diet decides to have a plain old salad and scowl and mutter under my breath with hate at all the others not cursed with my weight fixations, eating like an Arab after the breaking of the fast during Ramadan; that is an experience in itself I can tell thee!

A three hour wait passed before showtime where I mostly hung about in the band room that was allocated. I even tried to sleep on the floor given my lack of it the previous night, but to no avail.

Then it was showtime. More on that in the next post.

Ciao

Xxx

A PUBLIC NOTICE AT GIGS

Hey folks,

There'll be a post on the last Route 66 gig to come, but in the meantime, I saw this and thought I'd share it with you as it's something that any musician or performer can certainly relate to. Read on and by all means, share it with fellow musicians and performers everywhere.

...at the front of the stage (in large, bold print):

How to Request A Song From The Band

When requesting a song from the band, just say "play my song!" We have chips

implanted in our heads with an unlimited database of the favorite tunes of

every patron who ever walked into a bar and all songs ever recorded, so feel

free to be vague, we love the challenge. If we say we really don't remember

that tune you want, we're only kidding. Bands do know every song ever

recorded, so keep humming. Hum harder if need be... it helps jog the memory,

or just repeat your request over and over again.

If a band tells you they do not know a song you want to hear, they either

forgot they know the tune or they are just putting you on. Try singing a few

words for the band. Any words will do. It also helps to scream your request

from across the room several times per set followed by the phrases, "AW COME

ON!" and, "YOU SUCK!" Exaggerated hand gestures expressing disapproval from

the dance floor are a big help as well, such as the thumbs down or your

middle finger up. Put-downs are the best way to jog a band's

memory. This instantly promotes you to the status of "Personal Friend of the

Band." You can bet your request will be the next song we play.

Entertainers are notorious fakers and jokesters and never really prepare

for their shows. They simply walk on stage with no prior thought as to what

they will do once they arrive. We don't actually make set lists or rehearse

songs. We mostly just wait for you to yell something out, then fake it.

An entertainer's job is so easy, even a monkey could do it, so don't let

them off the hook easily. Your request is all that matters. Once you've

figured out what genre of music the band plays, please make your requests

from a totally different genre. The more exaggerated the better. If it's a

blues band playing, yell for some Metallica or Slayer or Pantera. Likewise,

if it's a death- speed metal band, be sure to request Brown-Eyed Girl or

some Grateful Dead. Musicians need to constantly broaden their musical

horizons, and it's your job to see that it happens....immediately.

''TALKING WITH THE BAND''

The best time to discuss anything with the band in any meaningful way is at

the middle of a song when all band members are singing at the same time.

Our hearing is so advanced that we can pick out your tiny voice from the

megawatt wall of sound blasting all around us. And we can converse with you

in sign language while singing the song, so don't worry that we're in the

middle of the chorus.

Musicians are expert lip readers too. If a musician does not reply to your

question or comment during a song, it's because they didn't get a good look

at your mouth in order to read your lips. Simply continue to scream your

request and be sure to over emphasize the words with your lips. This helps

immensely.

Don't be fooled. Singers have an innate ability to answer questions and sing

at the same time. If the singer doesn't answer your questions immediately,

regardless of how stupid the question may seem, it's because they are

purposely ignoring you. If this happens, immediately cop an attitude. We

love this.

''IMPORTANT''

When an entertainer leans over to hear you better, grab his or her head in

both hands and yell directly into their ear, while holding their head

securely so they cannot pull away. This will be taken as an invitation to a

friendly and playful game of tug of war between their head and your hands.

Don't give up! Hang on until the singer or guitar player submits. Drummers

are often safe from this fun game since they usually sit in the back,

protected by the guitar players. Keyboard players are protected by their

instrument and only play the game when tricked into coming from behind their

keyboards. Though difficult to get them to play, it's not impossible, so

keep trying. They're especially vulnerable during the breaks between songs.

''HELPING THE BAND''

If you inform the band that you are a singer, the band will appreciate your

help with the next few tunes, or however long you can remain standing on

stage. If you're too drunk to stand unassisted, simply lean on one of the

band members or the most expensive piece of equipment you see. Just pretend

you're in a Karaoke bar. Simply feel free to walk up on stage and join in.

By the way, the drunker you are, the better you sound, and the louder you

should sing. If by chance you fall off the stage, be sure to crawl back up

and attempt to sing harmony. Keep in mind that nothing assists the band more

than outrageous dancing, fifth and sixth part harmonies, or a tambourine

played on one and three and out of tempo. Try the cowbell; they love the

challenge. The band always needs the help and will take this as a

compliment.

Finally, the microphone and PA system are merely props, they don't really

amplify your voice, so when you grab the microphone out of the singer's hand

be sure to scream into it at the top of your lungs, otherwise no one will

hear what a great singer you are. Hearing is over-rated anyhow. The crowd

and the sound guy will love you for it.

''BONUS TIP''

As a last resort, wait until the band takes a break and then get on stage

and start playing their instruments. They love this. Even if you are ejected

from the club, you can rest assured in the fact you have successfully

completed your audition. The band will call you immediately the following

day to offer you a position.