Glastonbury [Day four] Just get me the fuck out of here!!
Sooo: I awoke at 6am to the sound of a torrential downpour going on outside. The tent had finally given in sooo the bottom of my sleeping bag had a puddle in it that was, for once, not caused by myself (only kidding.) ?
Damp, freezing cold, soaking feet, sore back, bad head...not good.
Not good at all.
I just switched off and went back to sleep. Fuck it, there wasn't a lot that I could do.
I kept waking up at regular intervals right through until 10 am, probably due to the onset of trench foot, probably due to the intensity of the rain, probably due to my survival instincts telling me to get the fuck out of there and go and find somewhere warm.
About 9:30 some fucker tripped over one of my tent guy ropes and due to the colourful use of language: " Fuck cunt fuck it fuck cunt!!! " and the splosh and subsequent loud splash , I guess this person fell face down in the mud.
The guy rope twang sounded like a bomb had gone off in the tent.
I drifted back to sleep not giving a toss for somebody suffering outside of the tent, I was doing enough of that myself inside the bloody thing.
10 am and I thought: "Enough is enough mate," I re-established the foot to welly thing and went to find a bacon sandwich.
It was pissing down with rain outside and I was faced with a thousand unhappy [wet] faces making their way from the cesspit that Glastonbury had become to the sanctuary of the outside world.
I sat, bacon sandwich and cup of tea in hand, elbows tucked in, hands clasped, knees together, hood up over hat, shivering my fukin arse off on a bench, by myself, feeling very very lonely in the breakfast tent; wishing I had a girl to snuggle into...
No such fukin luck eh!
This guy comes up to me and he's like: "Got any pills mate?" I didn't even reply, I just looked at him in a kinda: " Your fukin mad as a fish geeze now go the fuck away !!" way.
I returned to the tent, pull all the pegs out and spend the next twenty miserable minutes trying to pack the thing away. If I hadn't of borrowed it off my mate V, I would have just left the fukin thing on the spot and walked the fuck away.
At this point, there was no fun anymore...merely tolerance.
Character building moment some would say. Personally I would say " Fukin nightmare!"
So I get the tent put away and go and meet the gang at the bus, chuck my stuff in the back, get in and just sit there; shell shocked.
Thank fuck, I was on my way home.
We drive out of Glastonbury, out of the mud, back to the real world.
I'm still shell shocked by the time we reach the service station 60 miles down the road.
The Burger King queue was full of muddy people (in wellies) craving whatever it was they crave, I don't think any of us really knew.
I never thought I'd be sooo happy to see the first signs to London.
I got home at around 7pm, chucked the tent in the garage to dry, made a cup of tea, had a swig of rum, spent about 40mins in a hot shower and went to bed.
Glad it was all over really if you want the truth.
Glastonbury [ DayThree ] And it came to pass we did a gigeth, and it was a Joyous day for all to behold (Hmmm!)
I could've taken much better pics apart from the fact my camera refuses to take picture in focus in the dark and the damn thing kept steaming up due to the rain.
What can you do eh?
Sooo: I awoke at around 12am to the sound of various bands starting to sound check. I felt pretty OK to be honest considering the previous nights total madness.
I get me wellies on ( again) and strolled out for some breakfast. Hog roast, not sure if that's good first thing in the morning; but it did the trick.
I go and watch a couple of bands play ( can't remember who really ) and then kinda just potter around for a bit before going to meet JB ( the bassist/band producer ) at Chai Wallers again. They'd just won an award for best Green stall 2007 Glastonbury, so we'll done lads, good on you...have a medal!
OK we watched a few bands/beat poets/mad bird singing mad songs, I bought myself a new hat and then it was back down to the Backstage area and a painfully slow rainy day afternoon waiting for our gig slot at around 9pm.
The rest of the band turned up in various states of disarray during the afternoon, ranging from 'Just driven down so completely sober' to ' Been here since last Wednesday can't really string a sentence together, giz a cuddle!!' to ' Just flown in from Poland had no sleep but.. I'm a trooper let me at it!' to ' Fukin ell what the fuck is going on going on going on going on going on!!!'
A guess at least we all made it to the same place, at the same time?
Sooo , the sound check went without a hitch really apart from the ( seeing it more and more but not fukin liking it one fukin bit ) FOH digital desk...Again????
Where the fuck do these cunts get off thinking they can get away with Digital desks for Touring Engineers coming in to a gig with like 30 mins to sound check??
It sucks, big time.
Digital desks explained ( in layman's terms ) : Right, imagine you've been driving for years, you do it as a job, you have to make urgent medical deliveries ( you deliver hearts to heart transplant patients ) , on time, no fuss, no buts! Sooo you can drive any car or van without a hitch, no problem. Easy peezy. Then one day you get the call to drive an urgent heart for a little girl ( extreme example...but hey!!) who's about to snuff it if you don't get there on time. You arrive at work to do the job and.... Some fukin cunt has parked the Starship fukin enterprize in the car park and chucked you the keys, but... to even open the door, you have to find the right combination ninety button sequence and then press a million other buttons just to get the thing in gear...without the manual? " There you go mate..get on with it!" All the basics are there, but finding them is like learning Alien algebra 10 mins before the exam. This is the Digital Desk Dilema. The DDD. Of course you rise to the challenge cos you have to but... it's not that good really.
It gets easier as you learn the various digital mixing desks, but...then some twat ( who's never mixed a live show in his/her life invents an entirely new model/environment with an entirely new set of features that YOU DON'T FUKIN NEED!!!!
It's not just me either; every live engineer conversation I have with my peers eventually returns to the subject of hatred for the DDD.
So the sound check goes fine. We all do our thing and the gig turns out pretty damn good.
Start of gig = Empty tent
End of gig = Full tent. Full of bouncing punters having fun (despite the mud.)
All good, bit of a compressor on the main gig (which I hate) means that the more I turn the band up, the more I lose the vocals. Plus the rig engineer kept messing with the bass end.
But... pretty good gig all round really.
We get off stage and all go for a wander backstage of the Pyramid (main) stage.
This... pissed me off no end ( oh dear, here we go again!)
Here's why: Right... three days of mud, rain, shitty toilets, no fukin showers, river through the middle of my fukin tent etc. etc. etc. Backstage of the Pyramid (main) stage and it's like; No mud, pristine toilets ( with toilet roll and no shit on the roof...I kid you not), matting on the floor, beautiful (working) hot water shower blocks, clean punters (mainly from the BBC) etc. etc. etc???????
I mean like, OK so these are the top bands doing the best gig in the house, but... You gotta remember who's actually paying for this? Yep your average Jo punter who's suffering 100m down the fukin road in the Festival equivalent of an Army training camp for The Mud People of Mudville, Mudland, Mudbury, Summer(mud)set, BA6 Your Having A Fukin Laugh Ain't you.
I wasn't impressed with this at all.
So we went and Watched the Who.
Who were shit! ( See the pun there.. ha ha!!)
Who were... Oh forget it!
Announced as 'One of thee biggest bands of all time?"
I think not!
Me and couple of others went back to the Dance Village Backstage area, had a munch and then I retired to my Five Star, no expense spared, Costa del mud, luxury, pissy wet three man (and a pair of wellies ) tent.
I awoke to the pitter patter of lovely raindrops lashing down on my tent and after taking about half a minute to come around I thought to myself " Oh fukin bugger it!"
Sooo I donned my already caked in mud wellies and ventured outside of the tent and up to the vile toilet block, looked at the shower and thought " Fuck it, bacon sandwich and a cup of tea time!" Worst cup of tea I've ever drunk I think, bacon sandwich was OK though. By this time the rest of the gang were up so we all went walkies eventually ending up at Chai Wallahs a kinda hippy tea shack thing with live bands playing and also a good friend of J the guitarists and JB the bassists. The rain had stopped, so we all pulled up chairs and smoked spliffs out the back of the stall. Finally for the first time I got to relax.
Sooo we stayed at Chai Wallahs for a couple of hours and decided to return to the Dance village backstage area were we ate lunch and got kinda pissed till about 2 in the afternoon. The guitarist J got a little more drunk than the rest of us and started playing silly buggers, but hey, what can you do?
We all went to see my mate T from Sugardaddy do his gig, great gig by the way, and an even better pink tracksuit?? Nuff said.
Ok, back to the Backstage area, more booze was drunk. Getting kinda pissed myself at this point.
J is a good mate of Howard Marks, so off we trotted to Howard's caravan for a spliff and a chat and, quite frankly, the cleanest line of coke I think I've ever done.
Thanks Howard.... you rule.
All good indeedy.
Howard was introducing one of the bands in Dance tent East, so off we trot (through the mud, agian.) to the stage where I bumped into my mate Lee from the Plump DJ's. Lee's like' " Wanna line of MDMA?" and I'm like: " Yeah why the fuck not!!" We did, and then watched Hybrid from the side of the stage. I saw like twenty minutes and then decided to go for a wonder.
By this time I've lost J and his girlfriend, so I go back to the Backstage area ( through the mud once more ) and sit having a pint by myself feeling a little bored to be honest.
But... no sooner have I sat down when this guy dressed as the king of bling pops his head over and he's like: " ........!!!!" I'm confused? He takes his shades off and it's only my old mate V who I ain't seen for years. " How the fuck are you? " I say. "Wicked!" he says, we launch into this old time nostalgia conversation.
Pic of V and girl ( who dressed me up ) much later on [in the night]:
I'm like: " Where can I score some drugs mate? "
V: " You wanna line mate?"
Me: " Damn right¿ "
We find an abandoned dressing room and V pulls out this huge bag of drugs.
V's like: " So what you up to tonight?"
Me: " No fukin Idea mate? "
V: " Well I'm going up to Lost vagueness casino, wanna come?'
Me: " Where, eh? Why the fuck not!"
V: " You have to get dressed up and shit!"
Me: " Why the fuck not!"
Sooo, off we trot through the mud ( for miles ) to the Lost Vagueness casino, a kinda festival within the festival.
We arrive about 1am via an impromptu Madness ( the 80's band ) gig which was fukin unreal and I'm ushered into the Los Vague dressing room where I get stripped and dressed up by this girl ( the one in the pic above )
Kinda sexy...tiz nice.
Off I trot into the casino dressed in a pinstriped suit with pimp style purple shirt and kind of a Moroccan type hat/furry crown thing ( + wellies )
V gives me an MDMA capsule which is soooo strong that within half an hour I don't know where the fuck I am, and...don't really care to be honest.
Many many shenanigans take place, including taking part in the world biggest (most people) snog with this gorgeous girl who was a presenter from the shopping channel (don't ask, no really, don't! )
Lost Vagueness casino was fukin brilliant, I had I madder than mad time.
I was flying with the pigeons, doin my pimp style thang, and generally misbehaving like some mad sex pimperloonie?
Twas a lot of fun.
The glitter ball at one point was like, sooo glittery that I thought I was in outer space.
The scantly clad trapeze artist flying around it didn't help really??
You have no fukin idea!!
I was seeing treble.
And then some.
There were cabaret acts, and pole dancing women, and trapeze artists and people playing roulette and and...
Time of my life.
But all things must eventually end.
It gets to like 7 am and the reality of actually getting back to the tent kicks in. I get changed into the clobber I arrived in after flirting with the cloakroom girl for several hours and make my way back ( through the mud ) the several miles to ground zero via a coffee shop thing.
Me: " You got any alchohol mate?"
Coffee bloke: "We only do alchohol in coffee...Irish Style mate."
Me: " Well can I have a treble brandy in a coffee, minus the coffee bit?"
CB: " I guess "
I staggered back to the tent in several different directions.
Got to the tent at around 8:30 and just wiped out.
Sooo: Glastonbury day one was a bit of a nightmare really.
We traveled down on the Friday and I had a huge hangover after getting blitzed the night before by going to pick up a tent and then visiting the dealer, then doing the stupid thing of stopping at the pub ( for a quickie ) on the way back.
Luckily I'd stopped at my mate (you say that) J's and given her all the gear to hold for me so that I didn't make the mistake of doing it all the night before.
Of course the next morning J was nowhere to be found?
I was kinda pissed at her!
Good start then?
Anyway... We traveled down to the festival and the closer we got, the more it seemed to piss down with rain ( Oh dear! ) Upon arrival we were greeted with 2 inch blanket thick muddy fields that just seemed to get worse and worse the closer you got.
Oooh dear, not good at all!
We arrive and after checking in at the production office ( standing in the pissing rain for 40mins) to get the passes etc. We were finally let on site and to the lockup to empty the van of all the instruments, amps, flight cases and other shit needed for the gig.
The day before I'd heard it might rain, so I'd looked high and low for a new pair of wellies.
No luck whatsoever? Upon arrival I made a beeline for a welly store. The guy said they'd be shut for another two hours and I'm just like ( sinking into 2 inches of mud in a pair of converse holding out a £20 note) " Mate, just give me a pair of wellies or I'm stealing a pair!!"
Him: " No, come back in two hours when we're open "
I'd come in through the back of his shop via the backstage area and I'm actually stood in the middle of about a thousand pairs of wellies and this jobsworth twat won't sell me a pair.
They're £10 a pair. I'm offering him £20???
Me: " Just sell me a pair of wellies mate? "
Him: " Sorry mate, we're closed at the moment"
Me: " Closed for what?"
As the shop is a tent and I'm stood in the middle of this tent; there was no bloody closed??
Him: " No...come back in 2 hours"
Me: " Well sorry mate, I ain't moving till you sell me some, just like, do it please??"
Him: " I can't sorry "
Me: " Oh come off it!!!"
Him: " Can't! "
Me: " No such thing as can't mate, listen I'm stood with the money, in the pile of your sodding wellies , with a pair of soaking wet muddy canvas converse on my wet feet and your playing silly buggers. Just sell me a pair of fukin wellington boots...For fucks sake????"
Anyway after about ten minutes of this pointless ridiculous banter, he eventually gives in and sells me a pair..
Jeez, some people!
The relief of the welly was second to none.
Sooo: I rush back up to the rest of the band ( well half the band, the other members were arriving on Sunday after a DJ set in Poland ) With my new feet, grab my rucksack and tent and we all trot off to our backstage camping pitch to set up shop.
We find our designated camping site and are shown this bit of two inch thick bit of runny mud at the bottom of a steep field to pitch our tents on.
Fuckin ell!! This is gonna be fun?
Why the organisers can't lay down matting ( there is such a thing as matting you can pitch tents on ) is beyond me.
I'm about to pitch the tent and this guy comes running over and he's like: " Not there mate, that bit turned into a river when it rained too much the other year! "
OK: Half an hour later and the tents are up. I'm now kinda covered waste high in sludge, completely filthy and not particularly in a good mood. And... we've only been on site for just over two and a half hours?
This is gonna be fun, I can see it coming.
I empty all my stuff out in the dry inner tent and find that because I've packed my rucksack still pissed from the night before, I've packed lots of stuff I don't want ( six pairs of pants ) and not enough of the stuff I do want ( two pairs of socks, one pair already wet through.)
My own fault.
We all go off to explore what's what.
In the rain and the mud.
We end up at the Dance village backstage area, sit down, have a bit of dinner and then it's off up to see Amy Winehouse ( who bored the shit out of me ) , then The Artic Monkeys on the Pyramid stage where the sound was quite frankly shite ( more on this later) , then back down to the Other stage to see Bjork who was pretty amazing. By this time I was wet and cold and totally fed up, so I went back down to the Dance village backstage area where I got pissed and after watched all the pill heads arrive, off their tits, gurning and falling over and stuff, I decided enough was enough and trudged through yet more muddy fields back to the tent and called it a night.
Soooo: Glastonbury day one... Oh dear, not a lot of fun I'm afraid!!
Sooo, I watched the Michael Moore documentary "Sicko" last night. Completely shocking it was too. Seems like all American health care seems to be concerned with is pure shareholder profit for the insurance companies? Is it really as bad as that? If so, then it's totally fucked if you ask me!
In England, we all moan about the NHS, but... we shouldn't really, after all it is free. You fall and break your arm, or your appendix explodes, or you have a heart attack, or your head falls off, and your guaranteed to get it sorted for nothing. End of. Not bad really when you think about it.
I got invited to the O2 festival in Hyde park last night, but...to be honest, the last thing I wanna go do on a day off is go and see bands again. Mad, but true.
Anyway, I've a busy week ahead. I'm at the Savoy engineering a band at a Summer ball mid week and then Glastonbury at the weekend.
The Savoy thing is always a laugh + I get a three course dinner + I have to engineer in a Tuxedo. We run this raffle which makes quite a bit bit of money on the side and afterwards all the staff go to this posh club (which one of the promoters Dad owns ) and get slaughtered on the proceeds. Last year we were ordering up Champagne till like 4 in the morning. We told these girls we were all footballers on a night out and they started throwing themselves at us ( literally ) left right and centre.
Sad, money grabbing bitches really???
Still though, a bit of a laugh.
Warning...Spoiler: For anybody who's a fan of the Sopranos and was a bit shocked by the finale, this is a beautiful frame by frame analysis of what we were all thinking anyway.
Ok, it's Sunday ( still no Sunday girl? ) although I did meet with this American girl last night P for a drink, but...she proceeded to chew my ear off for fukin hours. I was trying to work out how she was actually breathing in between sentences at one point?
I think I'll give her a miss to be honest. She wanted me to show her the delights of the great British tradition of Sunday Lunch and a pint today, but... I kinda like to do that one in peace and have a nice chat afterwards, not an ear bashing!
I'm gonna go down the local for dinner. I'm friendly with the female chef V and she totally piles it on for me, extra Yorkshire and spuds all round then.
Sooo, we ran an Asian R&B UK garage night in room 2 of the club last night.
Not many clubs in Central London will take these nights on. I personally told them not to run it coz the last time we ran one of these nights, the club became a crime scene and ended up on the 9 o'clock news.
1 person was stabbed to within an inch of their life, 1 pregnant woman was taken to hospital after being kicked in the stomach? (I question why a pregnant woman was clubbing anyway but... ) About 30 separate fights broke out and the back stairway looked like a slaughterhouse.
I kid you not!
Blood smeared down the walls and everything?
Yep I wouldn't touch this crowd with a barge pole, they're a bunch of Racist ( yeah you heard me right ) Asian wannabe pretendy gangsters who think they're all from the hood ( exactly which hood breeds rich UK Asians I've yet to work out ) all with a chip on their shoulders the size of Birmingham?
But... The Asian promoters were: " Very nice guys when they came to see us, I can't understand it?"
Yeah, just wait till they've all had a drink!
This is no way a racist comment ( merely an observation on my part ) but... I've yet to meet a young Asian who can handle any large amount of booze. The two just don't mix, period.
They get pissed after two pints, but then proceed to try and down eight.
Was I right?
By 11 o'clock we'd seen about 8 fights, those thrown out were still arguing their cases with the door security, the sound system, after numerous shouting matches between myself and the DJ's was being flogged to death ( the amp room was like a fukin sauna ) the crowd was descending into chaos, and the bar staff were looking like they'd all lost a relative the previous day i.e. Really really pissed off!
For most of the night I just kept out the way but... The whole electrical system decided to trip out and I found myself having to wade through the ( way over capacity ) crowd to the plant room to reset the breakers and thus reboot the whole shebang.
I very nearly lost the plot as I was nudged in the back several times in a " You don't belong in this crowd mate" sorta way??
These people are nice as pie sober, but.. give em a few drinks and they become nasty little racist twats??
Upon arriving [at the plant room], I was greeted by this little 5 foot cunt who proceeded to stand in the way of the door with his arms folded and his legs apart wannabe gangster stylee. I moved him out the way, he tried to move back. I moved him out the way again, he started pushing me. He looks me dead in the eye and he's like: " Wot?"
Me: " Get out the way!"
Him: " Wadda you wannnt?"
Me: " Just get out the fukin way will you!!"
Him: " Waahhh you think your ard!"
Me: " Listen son, do you want the fukin music back on or what?"
Him: " Errr, oh yeah, you work here....sorry"
Anyway, as I was trying to punch the key code into the plant room door to get access, this twat and his mate were like, falling all over me pissed.
It took me 5 attempts to punch in the correct sequence? When I did finally get the door open, I had to push two of them off just to swing the fukin thing open?
Sooo, I reset all the breakers and the system comes back on-line but... The Dj has everything set to max on the mixer so the whole thing comes back on line full volume and trips out again.
For fucks sake??
So this means making my way through the crowd, to the DJ box, to turn everything down and then back to the plant room to reset everything again.
By this point...I'm spitting fire!!
I'm just about to re-enter the plant room when I hear: " Ear.. mate, do you know what you doin, don't look like it to me??"
Wrong fukin answer!
How I didn't pull that guy into the plant room and beat the shit out of him , I just don't know?
So I reset the breakers and it all comes back on line. But...these cunts have decided to block the door so I can't get back out!
I just took a run from the back of the plant room and hit the door full force. About five of the fukers go flying onto the dance floor as I shoot through the door like a runaway steam train.
At this point the security ( thank gawd ) have clocked this cos the lights are back on, they grab the offenders and eject em from the club. Leaving me a nice little escape route back up to the sanctuary of room one.
You wouldn't think I was just trying to help these twats get their night going again???
I donno why I bother!
The night ends after no real further events till I leave the club and door blocking twat is waiting outside for me. He's staring me out with his arms folded in his little gangster like way.
What was he thinking? Really!!
Sooo, instead of me running away and him giving chase ( which I think is what he was expecting me to do ) I just walked over and pushed him straight over the bench he was standing in front of.
Yeah, you fukin think mate ?
The guy is sooo pissed he literally can't get back up.
I thought about it, but...just walked away; what's the point.
He would've only returned the next week with a couple of Old Bill and his Dad in tow.
Got in around four, watched a film and went to bed.
It's pissing me off just writing this up.
I'm going to the pub instead.
Oooo it's starting to thunder, I love thunder, it fukin rules!
Sooo, the keys were from Little Mistress. We hooked up last week and ended up sleeping together, she says she found them in her bag when she got home and thought they were mine, and coz I was away, just sent them to me in the post?
Slightly worrying, but [ I guess ] mystery solved.
I spoke to L last night ( the girl I snogged the other week ) we were gonna meet this weekend but mid conversation she launched into this completely off the chart: " I don't think I can meet this weekend, I'm still confused over my ex and...I'm off men this month and...I've decided to stop drinking and... my heads not in the right place, and... I have to think about my kids???? soo... can we leave it a few weeks?"
Hmmm, maybe not!
Jeez, leave it out, life's too fukin short.
Note to all women of the world ( and men really, come to mention it. ) : Grief....before a second date is kind of a huge turnoff.
Really really not a good idea in the grand scheme of things?
Anyway, I got to the venue yesterday to find that the lighting controller hadn't been wiped? It was just on the wrong programme..
Sooo... I just hung around chatting to the barmaids and getting pissed instead. There's some really pretty girls working at the venue at the moment, but ( due to past experience ) I just don't mix. Eventually when it all goes tits up ( and it will dating a 19 year old ) the flak you get from the rest of the staff just ain't worth the hassle.
I really thought it was Friday today but it's only Thursday, that means I have a day off..
Also thank you the BBC for plastering the winner of The Apprentice all over your website ( with no spoiler warnings??) Some of us were working/chatting up barmaids last night and hadn't fukin watched it yet... Twats!!
Sooo: Somebody has sent me a full set of keys in the post with no covering letter and I haven't the foggiest idea who they're from or what they open?
Complete fukin mystery??
Yep, a complete set of high security, number stamped, Banham keys on a red ribbon.
Highly confused I am! ( Yoda voice )
I thought maybe they'd changed the locks at the venue and sent me replacements or something.
Couple of calls later...still no Joy.
Why the hell would somebody send me a set of fukin keys??
Maybe a long lost relative has died and has left me his/her Country cottage/holiday home in the South of France/Stately Manor/Farmhouse/nightclub/luxury yacht/hotel in Cannes.... ( Dream on son!)
I don't even recognise the writing on the envelope?
I'm sure it all makes sense to somebody out there??
Come forward O mystery key sender person.
Whoever you are.
Just had a call from the venue and some fukin idiot has wiped the lighting controller (again!!) That means tomorrow ( on my day off ) I have to go down to the sodding venue and spend the whole day reprogramming the lighting rig?
A job I do not like.
Tiz a pain in one's arse!
And then some...
Note to all people who think they can use a lighting desk (but actually have no idea) :
Suppose I'll get paid to do it; but that's not the point really.
Sooo: Sorry I ain't been posting, but I've been gigging in Croatia.
Pretty good gig actually, in this mad old paper mill:
Where we got to help ourselves to the bars ( not me in the pic, by the way):
Good, apart from the fact that the lead singer B nearly lamped one of the Croatian in-house engineers, he fell eight foot off the front of the stage ( in a rock-n-roll sorta way) , and then the in-house guy went a bit nuts about it, this guy then proceeded to stand on the front of the stage (for the rest of the gig) giving B evil looks??
B went a bit nuts about it after the gig, we all had to escort him from the gig before he got arrested.
Croatian Old Bill have guns and shit as well.
Wouldn't have been good really.
What's that about eh? Can't the Croatians handle a bit of fukin rock-n-roll??
Also, minus brownie points go to the minibus driver taking us back to the airport (at five in the morning) and slamming on the brakes in the middle of the motorway, having a scream-up at us all, and then driving at twenty miles an hour for the rest of the journey in the hope that we all missed our flights; just because one of the band lit a cigarette up in his bus?? Fukin idiot!
It's not like it wasn't a 3 hour journey to the airport, and there was another airport 10 mins from the gig??
Also also: Big big minus brownie points for the in-house engineer for fuking me up after ( having spent the day before sound checking and stuff ) upon arriving back at the gig [for the gig] had ripped off all the marking tape I'd left on the mixing desk so that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing anymore??
Had to totally wing the gig, luckily I'd kinda remembered half of it in my head, but that's not the point really.
Don't know how the rest of the world operates? But in my country, you never ever mess with what the headlining bands engineer has left on the mixing console??
Big big no no!!
On a plus, we got to stay in this fuck-off amazing hotel on the seafront with views like these from the bedroom windows :
And the women in Croatia are spectacular, I'd say in the top 10 of the worlds fittest, easily!!
And it was 30 degrees [ 90 degrees F ] baking sunshine for the whole trip.
We also spent the night before the gig on a yacht listening to a Jazz four piece playing till the early hours.
Sooo, Sat and I have a day off. The band are playing some festival up North tomorrow, so I'm just gonna chill for today..
I just have to mention this though, my mate B from the venue went to hire a car yesterday to drive down to Cornwall for the weekend, "Soo fukin what?" You say. Well upon collecting the car the guy in the hire shop shoves this machine in his his face and he's like: " Thumb print sir!" and B's like " Uhhh!!" Again: " Thumb print sir!" B refuses, and is told he can't have the car till he gives up his print??
B wants to know more. He's a bit of a conspiracy nut is B, he hangs around with the top ranks of these people who are all anti ID card. His mate writes for the Guardian on all things anti government, so you can see his concerns here.
Anyway, seemingly as from the July 1st 2007 ( Yesterday, but you know that right? )Yep as from July 1st 2007 everyonehiring a car in the UK ( at any hire car company ) is required to leave a thumb print, but...not for a hire car database (fukin get this!! ) It's for a government database?????
This shit is out of hand, I mean why don't the fukin government just round us all up and place us sheep pens. I'm sick to death of this government and it's meddling, sick to fukin death!
I thought the government was supposed to be serving the people, not controlling them.
Talking of annoying twats. I changed my bank about 6 months ago coz I wasn't happy with the service. The Halifax bank if you wanna know, they were crap. Anyway coz my old bank [The Halifax] hadn't seen any money going through the accounts for like, 2 months, they decided to pull my old overdraft from one of the accounts. This in turn left the account £10 overdrawn?? I had no idea, I wasn't using the account anymore, I'd emptied the accounts, chucked the cards and unregistered all the internet banking stuff.
Sooo, I started to get letters from the bank, and, to be honest, I just binned them without reading them. I wanted nothing more to do with this bank and thought it was just " Why aren't you using us anymore?" crap.
Then, they started ringing my mobile. A typical conversation would go: " Are you such and such?"
Me: " Yes"
Them: " Can you confirm some security detail with me please?"
Me: " Err noooo!"
Them: " Why not Sir?'
Me: "Errr because you called me you idiots, you could be anyone??"
Them: " Well can you ring us on ........... ?"
Me: " Errrr noooo! "
Them: " Can you tell me why not?"
Me: "ERRRR NOOOO!"
Them: " Well...
See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!
But... These calls started becoming more regular??
It got to the point where I was like: " Stop fuking calling me please, I want nothing more to do with you!!"
It didn't stop , so I just saved the number in my phone under 'NO!!!'
But... The calls still kept coming, to the frequency that they would start at 8:30 am and end at 10pm every 30 to 40 mins every day ( including Sat and Sun and... Bank holidays?? ) . It kinda became a running joke, but it's not really that fukin funny.
Total calls I make at 10 to 20/day over a two month period, that's like 600 calls max!!
I don't know about you lot, but in my book that's fukin harassment??
Anyway, I hadn't had one of their letters for a while, so when one dropped through the letterbox the other day, I opened it.
Guess what? That £10 ( actually £12.36 ) unathorised overdraft now stands at ( including all the letters they sent me and interest gained ) at £422.62????
In six months.
What are they, loan sharks?
I went straight to the citizens advice bureau, they wrote me this superbly nasty letter, made a few calls and got it all straightened.
But... The calls and the letters started again last week, and they ain't stopped.
They're still claiming I owe them this money?
Anyone with a lesser disposition ( I mean I couldn't really give a fuck, bring it on! ) would be having kittens by now??
What do these people want...Blood!!
Anyway, rant over.
I'm off out to enjoy the sunshine down the pub with the locals.
Also...I've come to the conclusion that the Japanese are completely mad squirrel !
Still taken from the TV show The Apprentice Wednesday night ( Just watched it myself ) . The wannabe Apprentices were selling shit on a shopping TV channel, and this doughnut is demonstrating putting the legs on a fitness trampoline and the dialogue is kinda: " You can jump on and off, up and down, and it really is great fun for all the family and so easy to screw on and off!!" Magic, I laughed my pants off!!
You can't make that shit up...you really can't!!
Talking of TV, they used one of my old tunes to introduce one of the new house mates on C4's Big Brother the other night ( without my permission? ) And to say I'm pissed about it is an understatement. I fukin hate reality TV of this kind with a vengeance! Not happy...at all. I'm in the process of trying to find out which dick head thought they could use my shit without asking my permission first???
Fukin music industry?
Tonights gig was a washout, about 50 people turned up. I enjoyed myself though, there was some great hip hop beatboxing shit going down.