I don’t remember having any huge plans to get entirely, blazingly drunk on Friday night at the Chalets. I was a stumbling mess by the end of the evening, just too much whiskey, I kept drinking and drinking and drinking.
The gig was over at the Purple Turtle for the new Artrocker nights; it was fairly busy for the bands but as soon as they finished I think everyone hopped next door to see Towers of London, leaving only about 20 of us to keep drinking into the dawn.
One of the funniest things of the evening was Mr Keith TOTP repeatedly (and I mean about 20 times) saying to me that there were no new bands as good as either Art Brut, Ciccone or Art Goblins. He was very insistent on this and wants me to shout out this fact at every video played in our MTV meetings that isn’t by one of the above bands. I think it may get me fired and possibly institutionalised. I love those three bands but shouting it every three minutes in a meeting might not make me seem sane.
After dancing, table football, kebabs and waiting hours for a bus we found our flat, apparently at about 3 in the morning, though I swear it couldn’t have been much past midnight.
Saturday was spent eating buckets of cold meat in the park and being taught how to play Frisbee by Mr Swish. I can’t throw or catch, he had a mission on his hands. I’m getting OK at making my hand touch the Frisbee, just not so good at keeping the Frisbee in my hand without it falling to the floor. I still can’t throw it properly however.
We got suitably sunburnt and decided against going to see Special Needs in Brixton, followed by The Cribs at Frog. Its all about watching Murder In Suburbia.
Sunday was supposed to be a fun day, spent at the Stylish Riots all-dayer over at Cargo. The last one was fantastic but yesterdays gig frenzy was somewhat more subdued. The place couldn’t have had more than 150 people there, really very empty.
The line-up had been chopping and changing over the last few weeks and what was left was less than impressive. There was still the awesome Twisted Charm, and the hairy and LA slick Chineapples but that was about it. Selfish Cunt got there late and didn’t bother to play and there wasn’t really anyone else I wanted to see. The Priscillas told us they’d be on in five minutes, an hour and a half later, after we thought we’d missed them, they decided to get on stage. Just as we were pegging it through the door away from boredom.
Twisted Charm were great, despite having seen them many times in the last few weeks they’re not fading on me. I miss the sight of the interim bassist and her amazing breasts, but it turns out the boys wear trousers so tight you can see every bump and vein of their manhood. Keeps me happy. I still want to be their sax player, minus the cock of course.
Today I am tired, the heat and friends staying at the church meant that I could barely sleep. I still have tonnes of Chalets interview to write but Mr Swish is cooking for me tonight and the presentation that I’ve been doing at work looks ace. All is not lost.