Father, my soul is lost, deep inside there is furious anger and bitterness. I am in foul mood. This you already knew, but just to be crystal clear, unlike the usual stodge of my prose, I ouht to explain, in detail.
I am pissed off for the following reasons:-
- Ken was clear to stress that The Red Bulldozers start at 5pm, it is now half past. I'd been swimming naked with friends in Camden Lock and had to leave them early to be here.
- I was stood at the bar for a long time in urgent need of a drink and the lone barman missed me a few too many times.
- I could have sworn this was supposed to be a free show, but alas I was mugged for a fiver and now have not enough money to buy a drink
- The club night last night, HDIF, was shit for the second month running, the music was shite, the dancefloor was full of people standing and talking and the girls were intimidating
- Folk spreading shit about me on the internet
- Stress at work
- I appear to be invisible
- My trusty black leather jacket is falling apart
- This fucking notebook
- My finger hurts
- And this one time I discovered that if I search for my name in google, but spell it with a 1 instead of an l, there were folk talking about me on ILX
I'll do a pie chart later to illustrate how much each of these things have pissed me off right now.
Thank fuck I get to blow this joint and head to the Just Joans gig later, even then, they're playing the cunting Enterprise. This shit never lets up does it.
Time passes and there's still no sign of the cunting cockknocking Ken Reddozers playing. However, here's a picture Ken drew of me and him spunking over Rosie Rabbit. The mind boggles.
Christ I need a piss. I should have gone in Camden.
Its not all gloom and doom and trouble. Tricity Bendix led me away to a small park nearby where there was actually a real life windmill. A windmill in the middle of London, and a fine looking windmill too. I took photies.
Back at the venue, food is coming out of the barbeque and there's some band on stage soundchecking. They have flutes and sound like fourth era B&S.
Soon they fuck off and make way for Red Ken's Cockdozers, well, just Ken stood centre stage with his guitar, waiting patiently for his laptop to reboot.
There was banter, awkward self-aggrandising banter that the crowd just ate up. Crowd of familiar internet folk and folk from other bands.
My natural shyness keeps me from mingling and also these moodswings are playing hell with my ability to communicate.
He did a rather fun re-working of Johnny Cash's Jackson, but about Brixton, and his evergreen Christmas song, "Christmas So Cold", that went down a treat. This could almost be the hotest day of the year.
Its a quick changeover for the next band, catching off gurd the folk out back, snacking on the barbeque and the folk out front enjoying the sunshine. Not sure who the band is, the band list has gone to shit and I could have sworn some of them stormed off refusing to play.
They're a five piece with keyboards and flute. A bit Rick Wakeman prog rock with what sounds like the singer from Butcher Boy and Moody Blues epic adventure of the mind.
I feel immensly uncomfortable and leave.
The Red Bull Dozer s