Well, that was a rootin’-tootin’ mighty fine weekend of rawk’n’roll, and…
…oh, bollocks to it, I’m bored with the cowboy voice already.
Suffice to say another spiffing pair of gigs at the weekend, with much jolly singing and dancing from the audiences, and much titting about, moments of sheer musical brilliance interspersed with episodes of titanic incompetence from the band, and a certain amount of dressing up.
Emma and I are still bemused as to why wearing a comedy false beard should make your sunglasses steam up. Although, to be fair, not as bemused as the innocent girl who walked into the pub to be greeted by the following sight (I promise, there IS a logical reason for it!) and let out an involuntary shriek of horror….