Interesting intervention from Mr B in the comments section, proving that he is pretty unhinged, and in need of a bit of attention (from qualified practitioners). It's all in your head mate. There is no-one out there.
Anyway, off to Scotland tomorrow for a bit of clan gathering. (All three of my sisters will be there, which is a rare occurrence and one that invariably results in me getting into trouble.) Have not as yet purchased blue face paint and sporran, but will see what I can do when I get there. Actually hoping to have a pretty mellow time, taking in a few galleries and trying to blag my way into a great spa in Edinburgh. While not where my heart is, Edinburgh is as close to the city my family comes from as there is.
Will mcreport back.
And Mr B, please don't comment too much on this post. It is about me, not you you freak - something we have been trying to explain to your wife for some time.
Sep 26, 2007
Sep 24, 2007
Like A Rolling Stone
Following a deeply frustrating week or so – involving me trying to secure a celebrity’s involvement in an appeal I am working on, and after many, many, many crawlings through hoops, unanswered phone calls and email and texts etc., finally getting through to this particular celebrity’s ‘people’ who turned out to be the rudest, most disorganised and pointless people I have ever spoken to – am trying to get back on the straight (allowing of course for toothpaste gifts to men) and narrow.
I took a lot of my frustration out on the one person who doesn’t need it aka mrs househusbandnot, for which I here deeply apologise. (And also a tub of ice-cream , which has been lurking at the back of our freezer since we started our diet.) I doubly apologise because I am not going to be around this coming weekend when mrs hhn has to give a reading at a wedding. (I am going up to Scotland for an aunt’s birthday, while mrs hhn heads off to somewhere in the home counties to give said reading.)
I take some anti-celebrity solace in the fact that just as I was forced to go to a musical in London this weekend, so too was Mick Jagger who was sitting a few rows in front of me. He looked deeply bored, and was no doubt only kept awake by the prospect of any of the songs having a Stones’ riff in them so he could claim royalties. (This was all after a pre-show pizza when we discussed quite how pointless he is, not knowing that he would be at the show. I read in the Sunday papers that he is releasing a dvd of his solo work. Staggeringly pointless.)
Anyway, back to basics: don’t work with celebrities; don’t try and work with their people because they are deep morons; have a Plan B (which I do kind of have, thanks again to mrs hhn); and know who your real friends are.
Speaking of basics, my colleague in the office has just put on some French pop music. My French is not that good, but I think the singer is singing about washing his pyjamas. As my colleague said, you get some French person saying “Oh, you really need to listen to this new band/singer. They are really innovative and really blow away Johnny Halliday” etc. etc, and it is just the same as any other French music for the last 200 years. Rubbish. I like Air, but is that really all they have come up with since chamber music?
In other news, has my niece to stay this weekend (hence musical goings to), which was a real treat. We spent an extremely enjoyable two hours back to her parent’s house yesterday, listening to each other’s ipods. Panic At The Disco rock (assuming they are not French).
I took a lot of my frustration out on the one person who doesn’t need it aka mrs househusbandnot, for which I here deeply apologise. (And also a tub of ice-cream , which has been lurking at the back of our freezer since we started our diet.) I doubly apologise because I am not going to be around this coming weekend when mrs hhn has to give a reading at a wedding. (I am going up to Scotland for an aunt’s birthday, while mrs hhn heads off to somewhere in the home counties to give said reading.)
I take some anti-celebrity solace in the fact that just as I was forced to go to a musical in London this weekend, so too was Mick Jagger who was sitting a few rows in front of me. He looked deeply bored, and was no doubt only kept awake by the prospect of any of the songs having a Stones’ riff in them so he could claim royalties. (This was all after a pre-show pizza when we discussed quite how pointless he is, not knowing that he would be at the show. I read in the Sunday papers that he is releasing a dvd of his solo work. Staggeringly pointless.)
Anyway, back to basics: don’t work with celebrities; don’t try and work with their people because they are deep morons; have a Plan B (which I do kind of have, thanks again to mrs hhn); and know who your real friends are.
Speaking of basics, my colleague in the office has just put on some French pop music. My French is not that good, but I think the singer is singing about washing his pyjamas. As my colleague said, you get some French person saying “Oh, you really need to listen to this new band/singer. They are really innovative and really blow away Johnny Halliday” etc. etc, and it is just the same as any other French music for the last 200 years. Rubbish. I like Air, but is that really all they have come up with since chamber music?
In other news, has my niece to stay this weekend (hence musical goings to), which was a real treat. We spent an extremely enjoyable two hours back to her parent’s house yesterday, listening to each other’s ipods. Panic At The Disco rock (assuming they are not French).
Sep 21, 2007
Stuff I now know
1) Madame B is nuts
2) Celebrities - and more specifically their PAs - suck
3) What a double blind clinical trial is (mrs househusbandnot's first ever boy friend recently created a mouse with a glowing leg)
4) They have hedgehogs in New Zealand, but not in Australia
5) I sing that song Would I Lie To You at least once a week
6) I am thinking it is time for the Gill Scott Heron revival
7) Am looking forward to the violent revolution against celebrity cooks
8) There may be a god, because I bumped into one of the nicest waiters I have ever met the other day, and he had got a part in Eastenders
9) Winter (in America?) is coming hurrah
10) Mobile phones really really suck, especially when you have turned something on on them and you don't know what it is ("Oh great, I've been emailing Mongolia all afternoon")
11) Dry cleaners rule the world (unfortunately)
12) If you buy toothpaste for the gay man at the gym, congratulate him on listening to Donna Summer, and playfully punch him in the pecs, it is not unreasonable of him to assume you are a secret gayer
13) Sometimes when you are playing Xbox, you have a rush of quite how deeply pointless it is playing Xbox (Mind you, one gets the same feeling of despondency in the pub. at work etc., so no big anti-gaming agenda here)
14) At the gym, I have been listening to *&^'s cd collection on my ipod. Forget Donna Summer. I am working out to ambient John Foxx and early Roxy Music - very strange
15) Those electronic cars make the people driving them look really goofy
We are all editors
2) Celebrities - and more specifically their PAs - suck
3) What a double blind clinical trial is (mrs househusbandnot's first ever boy friend recently created a mouse with a glowing leg)
4) They have hedgehogs in New Zealand, but not in Australia
5) I sing that song Would I Lie To You at least once a week
6) I am thinking it is time for the Gill Scott Heron revival
7) Am looking forward to the violent revolution against celebrity cooks
8) There may be a god, because I bumped into one of the nicest waiters I have ever met the other day, and he had got a part in Eastenders
9) Winter (in America?) is coming hurrah
10) Mobile phones really really suck, especially when you have turned something on on them and you don't know what it is ("Oh great, I've been emailing Mongolia all afternoon")
11) Dry cleaners rule the world (unfortunately)
12) If you buy toothpaste for the gay man at the gym, congratulate him on listening to Donna Summer, and playfully punch him in the pecs, it is not unreasonable of him to assume you are a secret gayer
13) Sometimes when you are playing Xbox, you have a rush of quite how deeply pointless it is playing Xbox (Mind you, one gets the same feeling of despondency in the pub. at work etc., so no big anti-gaming agenda here)
14) At the gym, I have been listening to *&^'s cd collection on my ipod. Forget Donna Summer. I am working out to ambient John Foxx and early Roxy Music - very strange
15) Those electronic cars make the people driving them look really goofy
We are all editors
Sep 13, 2007
Me N Prince We Talked
So chapter eight billion of me and the Prince tour, and I went off to see him at the main show last night. (You will recall dear readers the various problems I've had with the After Show parties, whereby he didn't show up the first time I went, and I almost died, and then he did show up the next time I went, and played for two hours, and I almost died. [The After Show parties are in a much much smaller venue within the main O2 arena, and - somewhat predictably as their name might suggest- after the main shows of the evening.])
Anyway, I spent most of yesterday engaged in an inexact science of trying to figure out some sort of pattern for when Prince did or didn't play the After Shows, and wondering whether or not to go and try and buy an After Show ticket. mrshousehusbandnot was on my case on this agenda btw, having had to cope with the fall out when he didn't play the first After Show and I spent approx three days - make that seven - thinking the world had officially ended, warning me that I should not get too excited or expectant or...too late...I did buy an After Show ticket when I got to the stadium, and spent the next half hour fretting about it while I waited for my sister to go to the main show.
Main show was pretty hot, amazing actually. I won't go into details (perhaps The Waunch would like to since he was there too?) other than to say my sister and I had great great seats, and Prince pretty much played his ass off to us. In many ways, I was regretting having bought the After Show ticket because we actually had a better and closer view of him in the main arena than I had had at the After Show where he did show up. (Keeping up?) But what the fuck. I'd bought the ticket so I decided to hang around and wait for the After Show.
There was a massive queue for people with tickets to the After Show, and I was pretty fed up with having to queue for everything else at the O2. (The should call it the Q2. You could quite easily miss a whole show queuing for a drink and then a burger or whatever in that place.) But I wandered to the end of the queue, and got talking to two young guys from Dublin about...well just Prince and whether or not he would show at the After Show.
And we were chatting away when someone pounced against the metal fence right next to us. It was Prince. And the approx 10 people who could see him - including me - were completely stunned. He was - admittedly with a metal fence between us - standing right next to us. And he said "I'm not gonna do the show tonight. I'm sorry." And I said, well kinda chirped, "You've got to play." And he said "I'm sorry man. I just can't tonight. I'll play tomorrow." And then he mumbled something about "one song" or something, and turned and strode into the back of a Mercedes which drove off. (When you are five foot one, you can stride into a car btw.)
It all happened so quickly me and the Irish boys just stared at each other. And then one of them - who was a bit too Father Dougal anyway - said."Well if I'd known it was Prince I would have just crawled under the fence, see there look there's a gap I could have got under, just there see. And I would have given Prince a big kiss on the face so, and then it would have been really embarrassing because I would not have known what to say to him so, and and, there look that gap in the fence, I could have got through there for sure". Etc Etc Etc. I have a feeling that Irish kid is still talking about it this morning. Which I am too, but hey what the fuck. Me N Prince We Talked.
(And so ended The Purple August/Septembers of hhn. And it came to pass that mrs hhn sighed one massive sigh of relief.)
Anyway, I spent most of yesterday engaged in an inexact science of trying to figure out some sort of pattern for when Prince did or didn't play the After Shows, and wondering whether or not to go and try and buy an After Show ticket. mrshousehusbandnot was on my case on this agenda btw, having had to cope with the fall out when he didn't play the first After Show and I spent approx three days - make that seven - thinking the world had officially ended, warning me that I should not get too excited or expectant or...too late...I did buy an After Show ticket when I got to the stadium, and spent the next half hour fretting about it while I waited for my sister to go to the main show.
Main show was pretty hot, amazing actually. I won't go into details (perhaps The Waunch would like to since he was there too?) other than to say my sister and I had great great seats, and Prince pretty much played his ass off to us. In many ways, I was regretting having bought the After Show ticket because we actually had a better and closer view of him in the main arena than I had had at the After Show where he did show up. (Keeping up?) But what the fuck. I'd bought the ticket so I decided to hang around and wait for the After Show.
There was a massive queue for people with tickets to the After Show, and I was pretty fed up with having to queue for everything else at the O2. (The should call it the Q2. You could quite easily miss a whole show queuing for a drink and then a burger or whatever in that place.) But I wandered to the end of the queue, and got talking to two young guys from Dublin about...well just Prince and whether or not he would show at the After Show.
And we were chatting away when someone pounced against the metal fence right next to us. It was Prince. And the approx 10 people who could see him - including me - were completely stunned. He was - admittedly with a metal fence between us - standing right next to us. And he said "I'm not gonna do the show tonight. I'm sorry." And I said, well kinda chirped, "You've got to play." And he said "I'm sorry man. I just can't tonight. I'll play tomorrow." And then he mumbled something about "one song" or something, and turned and strode into the back of a Mercedes which drove off. (When you are five foot one, you can stride into a car btw.)
It all happened so quickly me and the Irish boys just stared at each other. And then one of them - who was a bit too Father Dougal anyway - said."Well if I'd known it was Prince I would have just crawled under the fence, see there look there's a gap I could have got under, just there see. And I would have given Prince a big kiss on the face so, and then it would have been really embarrassing because I would not have known what to say to him so, and and, there look that gap in the fence, I could have got through there for sure". Etc Etc Etc. I have a feeling that Irish kid is still talking about it this morning. Which I am too, but hey what the fuck. Me N Prince We Talked.
(And so ended The Purple August/Septembers of hhn. And it came to pass that mrs hhn sighed one massive sigh of relief.)
Sep 11, 2007
X Marks The Spot
Someone asked me what Xbox games I am playing. That would be mostly Tetrus and er Tetrus, since this is just about the only game mrs househusbandnot will tolerate, and beats me at regularly.
I have also been playing a game called Lost Continent which is about some kid looking for his father on some frozen desert which is populated by giant insects and dandelions that shoot flaming rockets at you. You get machines and tanks to romp around in while you are trying to kill of this nasty forna and flora. And every so often some massive tank tries - and invariably succeeds - to run you over. All pretty uncomplicated stuff story-wise, although my old fingers and addled brain are finding it hard to get our young hero through the game. I am currently stuck on a ledge in a factory with one massive drilling tank to kill, with a few rounds of ammo and not enough rockets. You know the gaming deal.
We also have a pretty entertaining table tennis game. (There is a really huffy French player you can be, who has a real attitude when he is drummed by the cunning East Asian master.) And I bought a world war two game, but you have to be in the Russian Army, which really sucks since gaming is not - or should not be anyway - about being cannon fodder. And I keep setting off smoke grenades so none of my comrades can see what the fuckski is going on, and get shot by the Germans who seem to be able to see through the smoke. (Cunning those Nazis.)
And I got Bioshock which is one pretty fucked up game, all about changing your DNA as you sneak around this art deco warehouse being attacked by manic prostitutes with cat masks on. Great graphics and all that, but I do wonder exactly how much MDMA the designers needed to scoff to come up with some of it.
And some more Tetrus.
I am officially a teenager, in mind if not body.
Speaking of which, my pool is closed at the moment, so I am being forced to use the gym. Man, is it gay out there. Last night I was squeezed in between a couple of gym bunnies who were making my efforts look pathetic as they further toned and pumped their already pretty toned and pumped bodies as they talked away about night clubs. (Not being able to do much more than grunt when I am working out in the gym, it was the talking that most impressed me.)
So that's what I've been up to while you six have been waiting around to hear what I have been doing. Sorry it is no less cliched than sad man with Xbox and fat man with weights. But getting there (although mrs hhn and I have been suffering from end of summer blues these last few days. Strange because I hate the summer so much).
Incidentally, I did not understand any of what you were saying in your comments, although they cheered me up realising that I have a life and a new best friend called Xbox.
I have also been playing a game called Lost Continent which is about some kid looking for his father on some frozen desert which is populated by giant insects and dandelions that shoot flaming rockets at you. You get machines and tanks to romp around in while you are trying to kill of this nasty forna and flora. And every so often some massive tank tries - and invariably succeeds - to run you over. All pretty uncomplicated stuff story-wise, although my old fingers and addled brain are finding it hard to get our young hero through the game. I am currently stuck on a ledge in a factory with one massive drilling tank to kill, with a few rounds of ammo and not enough rockets. You know the gaming deal.
We also have a pretty entertaining table tennis game. (There is a really huffy French player you can be, who has a real attitude when he is drummed by the cunning East Asian master.) And I bought a world war two game, but you have to be in the Russian Army, which really sucks since gaming is not - or should not be anyway - about being cannon fodder. And I keep setting off smoke grenades so none of my comrades can see what the fuckski is going on, and get shot by the Germans who seem to be able to see through the smoke. (Cunning those Nazis.)
And I got Bioshock which is one pretty fucked up game, all about changing your DNA as you sneak around this art deco warehouse being attacked by manic prostitutes with cat masks on. Great graphics and all that, but I do wonder exactly how much MDMA the designers needed to scoff to come up with some of it.
And some more Tetrus.
I am officially a teenager, in mind if not body.
Speaking of which, my pool is closed at the moment, so I am being forced to use the gym. Man, is it gay out there. Last night I was squeezed in between a couple of gym bunnies who were making my efforts look pathetic as they further toned and pumped their already pretty toned and pumped bodies as they talked away about night clubs. (Not being able to do much more than grunt when I am working out in the gym, it was the talking that most impressed me.)
So that's what I've been up to while you six have been waiting around to hear what I have been doing. Sorry it is no less cliched than sad man with Xbox and fat man with weights. But getting there (although mrs hhn and I have been suffering from end of summer blues these last few days. Strange because I hate the summer so much).
Incidentally, I did not understand any of what you were saying in your comments, although they cheered me up realising that I have a life and a new best friend called Xbox.
Sep 4, 2007
Hair Day
Just saw a bloke with officially the worst hairdo of all time. He was about 26, ginger and balding. His take on addressing (re-dressing?) the last two ailments had been to shave the back of his head, grow a turfy quiff at the front, and add medium sized sideburns which were a completely different colour (really orange) and texture (like astro turf) to the rest of his head hair. He looked like a monk and an orangutan's love child. (I am aware that three of my six readers are a bit touchy about the old bald deal, so I will not go on about it any more, but Mr Ginger really had put a lot of thought into his baldness, and made himself look like a complete zigoid. Mind you, I am currently sporting the sad middle-aged man grows his hair hairdo, a particular agenda that mrs househusbandnot has quite a lot to say about having just had a great new haircut herself.)
Speaking of hair, did I mention that I went to the Prince After Show gig on Saturday?
In other news, was watching Nigella Lawson's new show last night - I don't know what it is called, Nigella's Chocolate Knickers or something - and I got to thinking that she really must have signed a pact with The Devil. She is deeply untalented and unengaging but still keeps popping up for more. Actually, maybe her whole family got a Satan Family Reward Scheme.
Others who may well have taken this route to success by signing up with Old Red Fork Tail:
1) Ant and Dec
2) People who have organised the tube strike this week. (How do they get away with it again and again and again? My bus to work this morning was like trying to commute into Bombay.)
3) Those people who paint themselves gold or silver and stand still on the pavement. (When was that ever entertainment please? But people give them money.)
4) People who design computer printers. (They do not work, but we just keep blaming ourselves and buying new ones.)
5) Dr John (obviously)
6) David Walliams
7) The Pope (He has to doesn't he, so he and The Devil know the deal. Actually, maybe he signs a slightly different contract. More of a Memo Of Understanding with promises to mention each other at meetings, and no stealing each other's thunder at Easter and stuff.)
8) Whoever invented the sandwich. (As mentioned by %^& before the Prince gig the other night, sandwiches are just so not where it is at but we keep buying them and talking about them.)
9) Francis Bacon (although I reckon he was a bit pissed and didn't read the small print about being miserable all his life and having terrible hair days every day forever.)
10) And people who write musicals. ("Okay. Let me get this right. One soul, my soul, and all I have to do to become rich as buggery is to use four chords and get my mentally frail aunt to write a few lyrics about it being dark and then the sun coming out? Bring it on Dr D."
So there.
Speaking of hair, did I mention that I went to the Prince After Show gig on Saturday?
In other news, was watching Nigella Lawson's new show last night - I don't know what it is called, Nigella's Chocolate Knickers or something - and I got to thinking that she really must have signed a pact with The Devil. She is deeply untalented and unengaging but still keeps popping up for more. Actually, maybe her whole family got a Satan Family Reward Scheme.
Others who may well have taken this route to success by signing up with Old Red Fork Tail:
1) Ant and Dec
2) People who have organised the tube strike this week. (How do they get away with it again and again and again? My bus to work this morning was like trying to commute into Bombay.)
3) Those people who paint themselves gold or silver and stand still on the pavement. (When was that ever entertainment please? But people give them money.)
4) People who design computer printers. (They do not work, but we just keep blaming ourselves and buying new ones.)
5) Dr John (obviously)
6) David Walliams
7) The Pope (He has to doesn't he, so he and The Devil know the deal. Actually, maybe he signs a slightly different contract. More of a Memo Of Understanding with promises to mention each other at meetings, and no stealing each other's thunder at Easter and stuff.)
8) Whoever invented the sandwich. (As mentioned by %^& before the Prince gig the other night, sandwiches are just so not where it is at but we keep buying them and talking about them.)
9) Francis Bacon (although I reckon he was a bit pissed and didn't read the small print about being miserable all his life and having terrible hair days every day forever.)
10) And people who write musicals. ("Okay. Let me get this right. One soul, my soul, and all I have to do to become rich as buggery is to use four chords and get my mentally frail aunt to write a few lyrics about it being dark and then the sun coming out? Bring it on Dr D."
So there.
Sep 3, 2007
After Show Show
Well yes, there is some truth that I have been a little pre-occupied with the Xbox since I got it last week. (Out for a drink with mrs househusbandnot the other night, I was saying that I just didn’t have time to write hhn at the moment. And she said “Waddaya mean? You got time for a pint. You got time for your friggin’ Xbox.” mrs hhn as Ray Winstone shocker.)
So apologies (of sorts), but have had a good break from hhn, and I guess we should be preparing ourselves for Madame B’s return (To form? Hmm.)
In other news, actually managed to see Prince at one of his After Shows on Saturday night. Having already trekked along to one of these After Shows and been forced to watch Dr John (who remains deeply dull), I was trying not to get too excited this Saturday. But by around 11.00pm I was bouncing around the walls of %^&’s flat eager to get over to the O2. We got there around 12.30, and were just getting a drink in the venue, and %^& was grilling some innocent bar girl about IF Prince did come on, what time did he usually come on, when…Prince came on stage.
And played for two hours. I’ve checked a few official and unofficial Prince-related sites, and I don’t want to turn into too much of a purple geek, but it was absolutely extraordinary. (If you want details of the set list, you can go to any of the sites and check it. My login is hhn and password is purplegeek.) It was just ridiculously good, with Prince axing his ass off surrounded by some or all or half of The NPG etc. (I find Maceo Parker a bit too jazzist, but his extended sax solos kinda worked.)
One of the things that does really get me about being a Prince fan is other Prince fans. Apart from the odd hot chick, one of whom I had a chat with about her Prince tambourine, most people in the 2,000 odd audience were real tossers. There was one old MILNF in front of %^& and I just talking through all the songs. (“Didn’t I tell you he’d be great. This is so great. I am so great. Must remember to log onto MenWhoLikeSeeingPicturesOfOldCockneyRotters.org when I get home. Here luv, get us another pint of Stella” etc.) And a bunch of old white taxi drivers. And a few Germans, and me and %^&. %^& was wondering if Prince must be frustrated by how unfunky and white his audience is.
Anyway, despite rest of audience, had a great time. It’s up there in top five best gigs I’ve been to. (Others would include The Clash on the London Calling tour, Tricky and Lee Perry at The Festival Hall, Van Morrison at the Corn Exchange in Stoke before he turned into a full-time jazz loser, and Siouxsie And The Banshees at Blackburn Town Hall on their first national tour. [Naturally, I am managing not to mention some of the truly dreadful and unhip gigs I have been to in my life. Paul Simon, Level 42 anyone?])
So all Princeness restored, and I have now officially forgiven him for not showing at the first After Show. And I still have a main show of his to go and see with my sister in a week or so.
I have not much other news, other than the fact that I bailed out of my own birthday party before any of our guests had left, which was a bit embarrassing. (I blame the vodka smoothies, as designed by The Waunch aka Mr Flowers.)
C U 2MRw
So apologies (of sorts), but have had a good break from hhn, and I guess we should be preparing ourselves for Madame B’s return (To form? Hmm.)
In other news, actually managed to see Prince at one of his After Shows on Saturday night. Having already trekked along to one of these After Shows and been forced to watch Dr John (who remains deeply dull), I was trying not to get too excited this Saturday. But by around 11.00pm I was bouncing around the walls of %^&’s flat eager to get over to the O2. We got there around 12.30, and were just getting a drink in the venue, and %^& was grilling some innocent bar girl about IF Prince did come on, what time did he usually come on, when…Prince came on stage.
And played for two hours. I’ve checked a few official and unofficial Prince-related sites, and I don’t want to turn into too much of a purple geek, but it was absolutely extraordinary. (If you want details of the set list, you can go to any of the sites and check it. My login is hhn and password is purplegeek.) It was just ridiculously good, with Prince axing his ass off surrounded by some or all or half of The NPG etc. (I find Maceo Parker a bit too jazzist, but his extended sax solos kinda worked.)
One of the things that does really get me about being a Prince fan is other Prince fans. Apart from the odd hot chick, one of whom I had a chat with about her Prince tambourine, most people in the 2,000 odd audience were real tossers. There was one old MILNF in front of %^& and I just talking through all the songs. (“Didn’t I tell you he’d be great. This is so great. I am so great. Must remember to log onto MenWhoLikeSeeingPicturesOfOldCockneyRotters.org when I get home. Here luv, get us another pint of Stella” etc.) And a bunch of old white taxi drivers. And a few Germans, and me and %^&. %^& was wondering if Prince must be frustrated by how unfunky and white his audience is.
Anyway, despite rest of audience, had a great time. It’s up there in top five best gigs I’ve been to. (Others would include The Clash on the London Calling tour, Tricky and Lee Perry at The Festival Hall, Van Morrison at the Corn Exchange in Stoke before he turned into a full-time jazz loser, and Siouxsie And The Banshees at Blackburn Town Hall on their first national tour. [Naturally, I am managing not to mention some of the truly dreadful and unhip gigs I have been to in my life. Paul Simon, Level 42 anyone?])
So all Princeness restored, and I have now officially forgiven him for not showing at the first After Show. And I still have a main show of his to go and see with my sister in a week or so.
I have not much other news, other than the fact that I bailed out of my own birthday party before any of our guests had left, which was a bit embarrassing. (I blame the vodka smoothies, as designed by The Waunch aka Mr Flowers.)
C U 2MRw
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
