It’s a funny thing this hitting 50 lark. I read an interview in which I was described as being a veteran bass player. Ouch! Mind you, I woke up this morning (de de de de de de) after a crap nights’ sleep with horrible dreams. "Still", I said to myself; "at least you woke up".
To continue on our epic odyssey of touring the world (via Oldham), we went to the Scenic town of Southport, with its (now) world famous lawn mower museum, playing the Southport Theatre at the Floral Halls or something like that, beautiful old art Deco place, still holds tea dances and stuff like that. Now I am officially veteran I shall have to get in practise for a quick two step or waltz. Told you that hurt... Mind you, I was on the way up to Southport in the car, and had a craving for chocolate, no I’m not pregnant, more of that later. I bought one of these chunky bars (by an unknown manufacturer), bit into it and a tooth fell out, I'm looked like a cross between Dennis the Menace and a wino pikey, suits you sir. So, not only am I veteran, but also I’m falling to bits.
Nice venue, but seems to soak up the sound, bit like having a cushion in front of a speaker, met the only 40 years old birthday boy Steve Jones, not bad for a Sunday, but bloody cold on stage... guess what? We played the same set as Manchester...
On to Llandudno, first of 2 nights the land of the OG (as in OGI etc.). Deafening OG billy, isn’t it, had the pleasure of meeting Mrs Eileen of Salt, doting mother of slip of a lad David, tour manager of this parish. Very enjoyable gig, then Malevolent Matt and myself went off to a little hotel (not what you might think) in Snowdonia, so that we could climb Everest, sorry Snowdon
the next day before the gig.
It was fantastic, great fun, met some rather stoned sheep on the way, (my new best, sorry, special friend Glenda is pictured. In fact we’re engaged, but we haven‘t told parents yet), Salty told me that this time of year the sheep eat all the magic mushrooms which are growing on the mountain, so they’re completely gonzoid. Not a bad life really, you don‘t exactly have to walk miles for your tea. Saw some sheep shagging as well, seriously, the rams have got really small willies, which seems to be located half way up the stomach. Hey, works for them.
Yes, a brilliant time folks, then back to Llandudno for sound check. I couldn’t work out one thing though. I suddenly realised that all I wanted to do was sleep for at least 18 hours, starting there and then. What a twat I was. I knew my legs would ache (they didn’t, as I couldn’t feel them) but I’d forgotten how much good Welsh air I’d inhaled in vast amounts up the mountain.
Started the gig, half way through Caroline I was thinking that after I’d passed out from exhaustion and been sacked I could always get a job as a postman, but managed to stay on my feet, and started to realise I could get through it OK. Then this bloke in front of me starts yelling "YOU FAT BASTARD!" I wouldn’t have minded except for the fact he was Johnny 3 bellies, if I weigh 80kgs, he’s 120, and he’s calling ME the fat one. Glasses for Xmas for him I hope...
Still got no tooth. Oriental, I love it, starting to rock like a mother, we’ve never done a song like this, and I think you billy really like it as well. V. noisy crowd, I was asleep 15 minutes after getting on the bus going dowd (that’s how to write down if you have a cold) to Plymouth. Not everyone in Plymouth you understand, nudge nudge. Day off, which I didn’t (and couldn’t) move from the hotel, then Plymouth Pavilions, hot, full of yoof, I reckon those air guitar albums have brought the band to a lot of kids’ attention.
Gerdundula, with it’s new multifacetedaxathonstyleethingumyjig ( I’ll say no more, for those that haven’t yet seen it) is also great fun, I thought Francis was mad when he suggested what we do, but it’s worked out great, lovely friendly crowd, good vibe man, same kind(ish) of hall as Brighton, which was really rammed, 4000 billy, most of whom get a good view, these rooms aren’t good for us sound wise, but the design is very practical, as you get older you look for details like that (p.94), very noisy for a nearer London venue. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many young people and good lookers on any of our previous UK tours, what are we doing right? Hotel du Vin we stayed in, fantastic place for a wino. Bottles everywhere, I tell you I got a bit over excited at a few, and had to retire to my room... Eat your hearts out Grand Hotel, we shan’t be swelling your £280 per night coffers. What a con that place is.
On to Bournemouth, where, as luck would have it, TWFMBFC were playing on the afternoon. Not that good luck as it happened. I was there to see them thrashed 1-0, should have been 5 or 6, and it pains me to say that. (To the tune of here we go here we go here we go) going down going down going down, next week they got knocked out of the FA cup by a non-league team. Great.
Anyway, sorry to waffle, next, Nottingham. Missed the water sports exhibition in the Hotel next to the gig, and opted for the delights of the dressing room, thrilling stuff this, eh? Sold out, same set, I hear Riffs has gone lead... Burning Bridges is one of the highlights of the set punter wise by the way, so yah boo sucks to those of you who think it’s drivel.
Yeehah!! It’s Brid time. Forget Busy Bees fish and chips, Jack’s is the BEST anywhere, I had, (eat-in of course, you push the boat out when the culinary experience is worth it) fish, chips, mushy peas, 2 slices of bread and margarine. It stated it was margarine on the menu, my kind of plaice (ouch!) and a pot of tea for £3.20, or £3.30 including tip. By the way, if I had a fight with Andrew, the man from Barnes, would it be called the Clash of the tight‘uns?.
That was at 4.15. I went back at 5.45 and had the same again, took Andy May, sound man to the stars also, he concurred, best ever. However. I am now closely resembling a beach ball, with a steamy evening ahead, and a gig too. It was a bit hard going at first, as I was in fact Johnny 3 bellies (temporarily!), but what a gig. I read somewhere that the people at the back were static, but you could have fooled me. I thought it was rocking, big time. Sadly, there were a few lads in there who really shouldn’t have been, and they spoiled quite a lot of it for me. It’s always quite rowdy there, but seems to stay on the happy side, but this was beyond the pale, then a certain Lord Salt of Margate stepped in and calmed things down, well done that man and the security staff.
Wish I could say the same about them at Liverpool the next night, standing at the front, trying really hard to look as bored as possible, standing right in front of people who’d paid good money for seats, if I was their boss, they wouldn’t have been paid with an attitude like that, mind you I’d probably be in hospital.
Went to Tate Northern with man from Barnes, lost me mobile, bollocks! That part of Liverpool is class, but, unlike Newcastle, the city as a whole doesn’t seem to have really come up yet in the thriving stakes, I may be wrong, but that’s what I think. Gig itself was OK, great audience though, really did Liverpool proud. It makes me laugh when I read on the site "Rossi going through the motions", "Rossi doesn’t care about the fans" Bilge.
Day off, then another rocking gig with a crap sound, Cambridge. You know, when they were building that place in about 1603 they’d have had the foresight to put in acoustic panelling, or at least drapes, but you know, architecture in those days wasn’t like it is today. Yippee!!!!!
I love this gig, lots of American, Dutch, German and Scanda peeps there, doing the 2 weekend shows, especially nice to see Gert who IS Statusquo.com, he does a fabulous job on that site, if you haven’t yet had a look, he also runs another site called R*****R******.com, also very worth a look in my book.
Again, lots of young girls, their pert breasts straining to escape from the shackles of their flimsy "I love Rhino" t-shirts. OK I made that bit up, but top totty, some drunks as well, they were a real pain in the arse, again Salty sorted them out, but someone got her ankle well mashed by one of them, I say it again, get shitfaced if you want, but not if you can’t conduct yourself in a sociable manner.
Wembley was the best for years, for once I looked at the lights, and that Pat Marks, he is, of all the lighting designers I’ve ever met, one of them. No, really, they were ace, every thing seemed to come together at once, the band really gelled, sup******erb billy, even though Francis was feeling like shit, as he was at Cambridge by the way. The man is a trooper, he’s got to be really bad before we cancel a show, which we unfortunately had to a couple of days later, but that’s in part 2 of the Oldham Odyssey... don’t forget to tune in next week folks, same time same place, whenever and wherever they are.
John Motson joke:
A family of spuds are chatting, and one of the young girls says "mum, when I grow up, I going to marry a Jersey Royal, as they are very well-to-do"
"That’s very nice" says the mum.. "Number 2, what are you going to do?"
"Mum, I’m going to marry a King Edwards, as they indeed the royalty of our kind" "Excellent" says the mum, "and you, number3?"
"Mum, I’m going to marry John Motson."
"What? You can’t marry him! He’s a commentator!"
I liked it anyway, should go big in Lithuania that one.
Toodle pip
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