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I'm half cut, and I'm not talking about my willy. The bar beckoned tonight, and ye olde meade was imbibed, but, hey, enough of my yakkin' let's BOOGIE!!! Bizarre having a Saturday off, so I came back to Manchester in the evening, polished off a curry which was so hot I had to leave a bogroll in the fridge for the next morning. The first thing I saw on my return was a pissed on sake thing from another planet, he's such a funny bloke anyway, but gone he's something else again. We are really going to miss him come the new year, it's such a shame we don't need 2 keyboard players, but that's the way it is, sadly...
Sunday night, Sunderland. Last year, I felt it was a case of, 'OK, entertain us, let's see if you pass the audition' but it couldn't have been more different this time, great billy leek, the makems (is that how you spell it?) can rock when they want to, only weird thing is that the stage has a rake on it, not a garden implement, no, it's at an angle, higher at the back than the front. You're basically walking up a hill when you walk toward the drums, not recommended for the casual hallucogenic drug user I can assure you, ladies and gentlemen. 
One hangover later, time for Preston, a gig I hadn't played since Judie Tzuke days, and one Quo had been banned from in the 70s. Funny how times have changed... The lady mayor and various local dignitaries came backstage before the show for a photo call, hey folks, let's keep rockin in the free world! Gig was fantastic for one of the bass players, total world domination sound. One little problemette, it was all anyone else in the fab 5 could hear. Now, some of you good folk out there might think, good thing, but sadly, not everyone thinks like that. Especially the boshing machine, poor bloke, he couldn't get away from the noise, and ended up actually breaking his bass drum pedal 'cos he had to hit the drums so hard to hear them... now I am impressed. By the way, as I'm writing this Matthew Roger is not in the building, as he's gone home to attend his daughter Grace's school prize giving, as she did so poorly in her GCSEs that she only achieved 9 straight A's... there's obviously no hope for the poor girl, congrats to all peeps Letley. Back to the gig...V. low stage, which made it difficult to vibe with anyone more than 5 rows back, unless they were over 7 feet tall, and we don't get many members of the Watutsi tribe at our shows, don't you know... I loved it because of my sound, the others hated it as a gig, but billy was good, the usual noisy lot. 
Sheffield... Yeah man, really cool vibe, far out and solid, groovy, full of hep cats and beatnicks, we really chilled out there man, I dropped a couple of tabs of acid an hour before we went on, it was a real happening man, and the love-in afterwards was really cosmic, you know? free love. Actually I can't think of a thing to say about it, it was just, y'know, great.
I don't actually know how many more times I can say how good we were, so here's a new one... we were fuckin' shite, and the punters were a complete bunch of arseholes... sorry, for a minute there I imagined I was in the Manic Street Preachers. PS. Muse rock!!! Mine's a Red Bull and plutonium, shaken, not agitated. Now, get a life and stop reading this shit, OK? Yours, Sigmund Edwards xxxxxxxxxx 
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