Archive for the ‘Gigs’ Tag
“This one’s called Sympathy For The Devil…can’t be too careful at our age.”
“Alright gorgeous find your damn Zimmer Frame and meet me outside after the show – okay?!”
“You’re a great audience… I think we played here about six months ago. Well, I did… the rest of the guys have passed on I’m afraid… Though I guess that’s the same for you as well. Did we play here six months ago?! What’s that?! You don’t know… Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll enjoy us again. For those who don’t remember we’re doing the same set as last time. Right… now why am I here again?”
“Hey son, come on … over ‘ere! Come on – that’s it, get your spot nice’n’early eh? Good lad. High fives? Come on son… give us yer hand: I don’t bite – at least when I’ve been fed and I’ve already had a couple of the audience this mornin’! Hya! Hya! There that didn’t hurt did it? Gangsta! How about tryin’ this… eh… oh shit, never could get me hand like those rapper guys. Never did like doin’ for their audiences much either. Naah, I’m not racist or nothin’ – most of ‘em are white middle-class kids driven to the gigs by a yummy mummy, and the music’s shit anyway – innit? Cool.
“No, don’t put that there! Oh; and if you insist on that bottle of Jackie D we’ll have to confiscate it won’t we? Dangerous object an’ all. You could drink someone to death with that. Hya! Hya! Sorry lad, it’s not me who makes the rules. And don’t hang that over the barrier unless you want it nicked. The crowd?! No…security that’s who! Bunch of bloody reprobates every one of ‘em – me included! I’m the worst – me – so Big Dave says. Yeh; I know… ironic ain’t it! Ironic? Doesn’t he play on the right wing for Croatia? That’s one of me mate Big Dave’s jokes. Wait a minute… you a student son? You are? Okay: well he does play on the right wing but only for a scratch team! D’ya get it? I don’t. It’s one of Dave’s interlectual jokes…
“I did for that Alanis Morissette once you know. Naah, not in that way – Hya! Hya! Protected her from the riff raff, I mean – like you. Never liked her much though – always wearin’ jeans or one of them long skirts like a bloody librarian: music’s ‘bout as interestin’ too! I much preferred that Girls Aloud… for one there was five of ‘em, and for two; you could see right up their skirts from down ‘ere. And for three the second made me forget the third! Hya! Hya! I used to tell Big Dave – he’ll be along in a minute – that I had such a good view I knew which one of ‘em was on! Naah, not that I’m sexist or nothin’. Ah, the legs on that Nadine – eh? You don’t like ‘em son? What’s that? Manufactured shite? Maybe… but I bet you would have done wouldn’t ya?
“Polly Jean Harvey… that was another one with good legs; did her at Glastonbury – Britpop era it was – dressed up like a tart she was. There I was havin’ a bloody good look durin’ that Fifty foot Queen Bee song and she comes over and threatens to splatter me balls wiv her guitar. Feisty? No, it was definitely fifty foot. Anyway she must be a bloody lesbian! Naah, not that I’m homerphobic or anythin’ – just that it’s not right; is it? Cool. Hey, son better change the subject… look at that walkin’ this way… Oh; it’s your girlfriend…
“Er, yeh… should be a good gig. I prefer the outdoor stuff, yeh, I think it’s the more liberal attitude yer know; that sort of vibe. Big Dave said I’m too liberal for me own good – I told him I must be the most relaxed member in the whole of the BNP! What you laughin’ for! Did I say it was a fuckin’ joke?! There’d be no Ironic in my bloody team let me tell you that! Hello darlin’ he’s alright, he’s safe – he’s wiv me ain’t he? Aah, young love eh? I could tell you some stories… many? Loads of ‘em… been around me… I should fuckin’ coco! Oh, festivals!? That’s what you was on about. What a prick eh? What you say?! Don’t yer even think of fuckin’ agreein’ wiv me on that! I’m not a psycho or anythin’ just a bit sensitive me ol’ mum says. It’s alright love – come on, come back, I’ll let him go; I was only jokin’ – Hya! Hya!
“…Ri Ri? Me! Me! Madge? Got the badge! Gaga? Drive my car! Adele?! Go to fuckin’ hell!”
“There yer go, it’s only a little tear… tell yer friends you did it surfin’ to Biffy! It’s alright love; I’ve put him down now… er, as I was sayin’, loads of ‘em: I’ve had me back to them all: Coldplay, U2, Oasis – that Liam Gallagher hit me in the back of the ‘ead once: threw his bloody tambourine when he was busy tellin’ Noel where to go! Don’t look back in anger – eh son? There, that’s it … you can still see the dent. No? Oh, must be the bright sun, eh son? Hot son? You wait ‘till the other sixty thousand arrive! Don’t worry love, we’ve got plenty of water to pass out – phew, she’s a worrier ain’t she? Always spit in it first though! Naah, don’t tell her that son she’ll do her nut. Keep the peace like I do eh? Only a joke anyway… I would say I predict a riot but if she passes out the first aid tent’s a bleedin’ mile away in that direction. One bit of advice though son, Big Dave always, I mean always pisses in the buckets of water he chucks over yer. Right? Cool.
“Hey darlin’… where is she?! Gone to get somethin’ to eat you say? Sensible as well as gorgeous – eh son? Yer, need somethin’ inside yer. Unless yer a real man of course! No really, she’s a nice lookin’ gal, you’ve done well. Festival virgin is she? Or just a virgin eh? Hya! Hya! Go on get her in the tent later, no one’s gonna hear yer we’ve got megawatts of power – drown out a nuclear explosion it would – even yours! See that stack over there, I had to stand right there for the Motorhead set yesterday – ‘what a delight it was to see the prototype exponents of British speed metal receiving a belated welcome into the bosom of a new young audience, as a legion of festival goers greedily surfed on the contagious cacophony created by a leering Lemmy and his cohorts in aural crime’ – that’s what The Times critic said. At least I can still read… can’t hear a fuckin’ thing though! Big Dave’s the same. Deaf. I said he’s deaf!! Sorry son: that makes two of us – mine are still ringin’ from yesterday, right? Says he’s glad of that when that world music shit is on. He’s smaller than me: double ironic eh? I found it blowin’ round the toilets – not Big Dave! The paper stupid! I always liked The Times – plenty of arse wipe for your money. Must be all them long words they use. Not much use now though. I should have written to the letters page and complained. Give us back the broadshit – signed: caught short of Glastonbury. Hya! Hya!
“Madchester? Baggy? I should say so – me trousers looked like they’d divorced me balls!”
“As I say; I’ve done ‘em all. What’s that son…Ri Ri? Me! Me! Madge? Got the badge! Gaga? Drive my car! Adele?! Go to fuckin’ hell! Robbie? Yeh. He put his foot on me shoulder. Left or right? How should I fuckin’ know! Twat! ‘And through it all she offers me pro…’ then he got off. Next night I was in the same place and he did the same thing only this time he gets up to ‘protec…’ I flogged the t-shirt to some little honey that I pulled out of the front row for thirty-notes. Perks of the job son! Isn’t much I haven’t seen. And done. Best girls? Easy; the ones who go to see Robbie. Worst? That’s easy too; too easy if you know what I mean – heavy metal bitches. It’s all them devil signs – it’s the only horn I get from them: makes me feel like a chicken at Colonel Satan’s takeaway. Naah, it isn’t just people like Robbie what gets the groupies, we do too you know! We make ‘em feel safe – then we shag ‘em! Count to three – fingers that is – then if it doesn’t work force entry: that’s the security code! Hya! Hya! What you fuckin’ laughin’ at!? Mysogernist? Who’s she when she’s at home? Some woman rapper or summat? Naah, don’t worry; I’m not a violent man. I’m like one of them martial arts gurus me; I channel the force – I wouldn’t hit no one with this lethal weapon as it would compromise my pacifistic morality. That’s what Big Dave says and he’s got a lethal weapon too. Yeh, we get our share of the girls… mind you that one wouldn’t let me put the t-shirt on her – bloody bitch: should have charged her fifty-notes! Laugh again son and I’ll knock yer fuckin’ head off! Okay?
“See, I haven’t actually hit you have I? And those red marks fade real quick – go on have a drink of this – get your breath back. Plenty of Big Dave’s special ingredient in that. Hya! Hya! Yeh… you get blahsay to the job in the end. Yeh; the stars become your friends so to speak. They see you grapple some crowd surfin’ git off the stage so they ask for you again. I had a Christmas card from that Chris Martin once – asked for a donation to make poverty history. I’ll make him fuckin’ history, bloody tight wad! I’ve got a collection of sweaty towels at home: Mick Jagger’s is me top one – he signed it for me. Elton John’s towel’s got a silk monogram on it: E.J. it says. Strange that. Got one off one of them riot grrrl groups back in the nineties. They were some harsh girls them. Kick you in the balls as look at yer. Or was it that Tori Amos? Hmmm; could have been Courtney Love now I think of it. Whatever, it’s got blood on it – not yer menstrual though otherwise it might have been worth summat. How do I know? Big Dave’s brother works in the lab of an STD clinic. That’s how! Very civilised that Chris Martin: tight but civilised. He wouldn’t have blood on his towel. Probably come up smellin’ of roses in any bloody case! Moral spokesman for a generation and Gwyneth Paltrow for a shag! Mind you their music’s dismal shite – ain’t it?
“Talkin’ about smell… you ought to be this side of the barrier facin’ you lot when the wind’s in the right direction! Phew! Big Dave says he can smell the excitement. And the rest! ‘I love the smell of excitement in the mornin’’ he says. He’s always quotin’ that Apocalypse Now. He plays it over and over when we’re on the road – that and ‘is Lethal Weapon too. Says his only ambition is to do security for Napalm Death – then he gets to say – ‘I love the smell of Napalm Death in the mornin’’ The Horrors? The Horrors? Naah, never ‘eard of ‘em.
“Me? Strangely enough I chill out by goin’ to see bands. Proper busman’s holiday eh? Favourite? What of all time cross me heart swear on the Bible me mother’s life look at the tits on that kind of way? Oh that’s easy absolutely no doubt… Stone Roses or t’Happy Mondays: did you notice me slippin’ into a Manc accent there son? Can’t help it. Yeh, I was there then: ‘avin it large; poppin’ pills. Madchester? Baggy? I should say so – me trousers looked like they’d divorced me balls! Spike Island. Yeeurghaaaaa! Bez?!!! What would I have been wearin’ one of them for! Shaun Ryder – just like that, eh? Twat! Students eh? All that money and what do they know?
“Did a stint on the door of the Hacienda for that Tony Wilson once. Naah, not long… stayin’ at the same venue all the time was like working in a factory. I didn’t hang around. So it goes. No, never liked that earlier Manc stuff. Joy Division? Ian Curtis? Enough to make yer top yerself listenin’ to that dark shit! Only time I concentrate that hard and jerk like an epileptic is when I’m comin’ either that or I’ve got a Tazer up me arse! Big Dave’s got one – illegal it is. He collects weapons – he got it off an internet site: it’s just like the ones the Met have got. He wants to bring it along one day he says: mix work and pleasure he says. Naah, I don’t mind New Order. Blue Monday? Great porn flick that! We watch that for a warm up, right. Yeh; I like a good time… which is why Quo’s me real favourite. What? So I lied! Oh, and I’m not religious. And me mother’s dead in any case!
“I much preferred that Girls Aloud… for one there was five of ‘em, and for two; you could see right up their skirts from down ‘ere.”
“Went to see the Quo about a month ago, yeh; another one of their farewell tours. Not so Sweet Caroline it was. Yer see son, I forgot meself… I goes down the front hops over the barrier and starts doin’ me job of all things! What happens? I gets ejected… yeh, me… that’s what happens! Ironic eh? Broke his jaw though… case comes up in the autumn. Cool.
“Jeez, look at that lot just arrived over there! Twenty of ‘em; twenty’s about the oldest I’d say too! Wall to wall crop tops and bikinis and the hormones to fill ‘em! Yeh, as I was sayin’ son, I love the outdoor ones! Wait for the crowd surf… I’ll be draggin’ ‘em out very slowly if you know what I mean! Time I was movin’ on out… movin’ on up – over there!
“Nice talkin’ to yer son. I’ve met worse. Have a good one? Yeh: and you; and a havin’ it large one or in my case a stiff one. As we say in the security game: break a leg… and an arm… and a nose too if you can! Hya! Hya! High Fives? Naaah? Oh, your arms still hurt… okay. Coooool.”
“Right… Hands up if you like The Grateful Dead?”
“Me rider? Oh; just two aspirin, an incontinence pad – and a nice cup of tea.”