Good morning campers!
My, that was an interesting Saturday night. We rolled up at the Locomotive in Swindon, to find a mob in fancy dress, largely – but by no means entirely – Scottish themed, the reason for this never quite becoming clear over the course of the evening. What was clear was that they weren’t a shy, retiring bunch. I have to say that I have never in my life seen so many giant inflatable willies in one place. In retrospect, something I’m probably quite glad about.
Poor Ben didn’t have the best of nights; he’s brought along his new shiny wireless system – but alas, because it has an oddball stereo jack on it, his complex high-tech active bass refuses to work with it – basically the act of plugging the wireless in switches the bass off.
Undeterred, he swaps over to his backup bass, which is less technologically advanced, and so works just fine; and then we discover his wireless is set to the same frequency as mine, resulting in some horrible Dalek noises from both our amps. Happily, after a quick channel-changing tweak, it’s all good to go.
Until – just two seconds before we start the first set (quite literally – Stuart had got as far as counting in, “One, two…”) disaster strikes! There is a massive booming crash, and I spin round to see Ben’s bass has slipped off its straplock, plummeted down and hit the stage like a piano thrown out of a tenth storey window.
We allow ourselves five seconds for triage – there’s probably some nasty dings, and he’s killed a machine head, so it’s unusable for now, but it doesn’t look like the neck or body have split – and then it’s on with the show, using his regular bass, and not the wireless.
Despite this upset, the gig goes rather well; the mob are quite keen on dancing and singing along and joining in with the silliness; indeed, at one point Rosa is moved to make the observation,
”Do you know, I’ve never before had a giant inflatable cock thrown at me while I’m on stage…”
At this, Ben chimes in. “You’ll notice that she had to qualify that statement with, ‘While I’m on stage…’”
“Shut up, Ben”, he is curtly admonished.
Well, the evening gaily continues, we play up until the allotted finish time, do a couple more, and pack it in. And – with the obvious exception of Ben’s bass – a fine time was had by all, I think.
Coming up – another one of our favourites…
Saturday 23rd – Railway Tavern, Fishponds
Back in the court of her beloved Majesty Queen Amy of Fishponds, where wondrous and magical occurrences are the order of the day… Oh, and I guess we’ll have to go through the usual routine of her threatening not to pay us unless we play her favourite song. I wonder if any of us can remember it….
Right, that’ll do for now
Meanwhile, for no good reason, this is a classic from the chuckle archives…