so friday came and i hired a car. haven’t driven for a long time so i took is for a spin on my own, and visited my ma. she was happy to see me, chilled there with her for an hour and got back to cardiff… pumping sicknote on my journey home, and fuck it sounded good.
i parked up at paul’s and had a guiness with him and laure, they seemed really happy, she looked amazing with her shades on and her big wet smile glistening in the sun.
coupla guinesses and one of pauls pork pies later he dropped me back at mine in time for the Sicknote meeting(!) our first ever meeting…
we met at mine, Sian invited herself along and turned up with a jumbo sausage in batter pissed out of her mind. The good doctor threw a fat line of ket up each nostril and double dropped before rolling a big spliff and announcing that he was ‘ready’
we headed to a local pub and talked about stuff, money we owe, plans to move forward, everyone was present except knuckles.
p&o aired the footage of sicknote on the news and the george galloway interview on his laptop.
we moved to another pub, and i was starting to get a bit irritated.
sian was blabbing on about a photo shoot in buffalo fucking bar for us with dry ice likie some fucking dodgy wham bad boys thing! and saying that me and jonny should have a stand for our laptops with bulbs in it that dance along to the music. i can really see us dragging a load of fucking bulbs around the country with us. What The FUCK? clueless.
the discussions turned to my image. which i admit isnt that exciting. but who really gives a fuck. i was told i need a image consultant. and i said that people have told me that because i look quite normal on stage that it looks good and kind of contrasts things and it works. Everybody just laughed in my face. i felt a bit fucked off. and said that i don’t need to flop my cock out or wear a silly hat just to get noticed, and i’m fine in the background as i am.
i felt sick of everyone and how stupid they all sounded, the only person talking any sense was The Filth, and he was being completely ignored. I made my exccuses and pegged it.
Back at mine, i felt completely tripped out in a bad way, FUCK KNOWS why. a combination of working like a dog for fuck all, stress from the debts,driving, guiness, lager, rollies and 3 hours of sicknote talking absolute shit in my lughole. I just wanted to go away on my own for a week or 5.
I felt for a while that there was no way i could do this weekend, and i seriously felt like calling it all off.
Luckily, i fell asleep.
I woke up at 4am sharp and met tommy tank in the kitchen for a cuppa tea.
I stayed up til about 9 then nodded off for a coupla more hours.
we fucked off to blaen garw in the evening.
the place was full of 15 year old girls showing their bits off and necking pints of cider.
the men looked like oversized biceps in pastel shirts with highlighted beckham hairdos and gay as fuck slip ons.
they didnt know what to make of us,.
although another party of people arrived from the midlands to come and see us the venue was still pretty empty.
the first set we played we were looked upon like a bunch of freaks, and i thought for a mo, the doctor, with his saggy tits hanging out and kilt swatying round his knees, might attract a beating from these valley boys.
we took a break with tommy tank filling in and finding it completely impossible to make any connection with the crowd. poor fucker. a Fight broke out which Knuckles nearly got caught up in but it dirpersed quickly when all the orange biceps pulled each other apart from each other.
this was a tuffie, but i was determined to get the fuckers dancing.
Doghouse started the second half with his fortune telling sequence that went down like a pork pie at a jewish wedding, and we kicked in with Gimme Dat Harp, which it suddenly dawned on me that this song was written for exactly this town!
People staring to move towards the dancefloor, and i kept getting it harder and harder until we had the fuckers bouncing soon enuff.
P&O was completely off his tits, eyes bulging out of his head and a seriously depressing gurn that made him look completely gutted. He cam up to me and started throthing in my ear as usual. Not a word. WHAT? i kept repeating but he just kept throthing, and i eventually made out he was asking for money off me. he then reached out and prodded his greasy finger into my left bollock, with out thinking at all i had lauched him right across the dancfloor and very nearly decked him. i thought for a minute he was gonna whack his head and pass out, but he managed to keep his balance.
the first sickntoe gig without drink was a strange experience.
we got plenty of pats on the back, and off we went back to Cardiff, to get our heads down to prepare for the nightmarish journey ahead of us in the morning.
8am up and out!!!!
gathered the very ugly looking troops, and off we went to The Seceret Garden Party in Huntingdon.
4 hours later we arrived and met up with our new friends Elephant Foot. What a buch of amazing people, friendly as fuck, mad as fuck and completely up for it. we arranged to meet back at the looniverse at 2.30 and headed off for a wander round the festy.
after a stroll around i had come to the conclusion that this was possibly the lamest festival crowd i had ever seen (or was it coz i was sober and everyone was fucked from the weekend?)
There was no vibe at all.,
There were lots of posh people dressed up WHACKY! and lots of shit music dribbling out of tents with the force of a wet fart.
we parked up on a bank and bumped into Cosmo, who had recently been dumped by misses half way through their Festival season, after she ran off with another bloke. RUDENESS!
Matt the Hatt strolled by, dressed as, well, im not sure, like an arabian king or that shamen bloke off mighty boosh? with big paisley robe, pyjamas and a like a huge silk turban. i dont understand. he strolled past another guy who looked just as ridiculous and they high-fived each other and carried on walking. i almost tossed my self in the nearby pond.
then, on a small stage down the bank from us, appeared a pirate. he said, “i’m a cockney geezer an we all gonna av a cockney singalong! gather round, gather round!”
sure enough he burst into song and i nearly burst with anger,
this festival seemed like a load of posh people venturing out of their posh villages and gathering in a field and dressing up like a bunch of wacky twats, it had fuck all to do with music.
with a sequinned mullet burping out an emotional drone from the mainstage, and the staedler & waldorf hit ‘china in your hands’ squawking out of another, and the cockney twat having a ri’ ole knees up on his own i began to think that somewhere there must be a stinking gabba tent full of ket-heads.
so we got on stage and started to build up the crowd, they looked completely bemused as elephant foot entered the tent and started fighting, dancing, and pulling each other- it looked completely fucking demented and i loved it. the doctor was turning a few heads too as he started his ‘hump the leadsinger’ routine to ‘Fuck The Pain Away’ much to doghouse’s disappointment.
Headshot got the tent bouncing to fuck, and dr.conker handed out a load of cds, before we finished off with ‘Taxi For Mr Blair’.
Chilled with Elephant Foot for a while and then checked out Sian’s suggested booking for the boat party, Anarchist Wood. Pants.