You can't hold your nose with your fingers in your ears...
I’m in a band that mostly plays in pubs around Cov but every now and again we’re hired to ruin, sorry entertain people’s private parties, weddings and the like. Unfortunately, our guitarist (who shall be known as ‘Furious D’ because that’s his name) and I are not known for our professionalism and as preparation for a certain la-de-da birthday party in some posh village, decided to get absolutely trollied before we started. Because we had left it so late before arriving at this party, we decided to stop off at Maccy-D’s for something to line our stomachs with. This, however sparked a chemical reaction of the foulest proportions which began to fester in our respective crap-factories. As we arrived at the party, we were instructed to set up in a marquee in the grounds of the house. As a warning of things to come during the sound-check FD dropped his guts which honked to such biblical proportions that we had to stop there and then and order him to either empty his ringpiece or at least have a tactical wipe at the earliest opportunity. The party then began but as most of these bashes go, they don’t liven up until everybody is reekingly steaming. By this time however, both FD and myself had gone into cheese-squeezing overdrive and a cloud of dirtbox-gas was quickly developing in the marquee. Noise wasn’t a problem as the music easily disguised the veritable fanfare of trouser-trumpeting that was going on at a remorseless rate. However, by about half eleven there were about 30-odd tipsy young ladies who were gagging to dance round their handbags and moved closer to the band. Whereby FD revelled in it, I could only gaze in total shame as smiling girl after girl danced towards us, sniffed, gulped, slowly turned green, and backed off quickly, sitting down with their faces dropping in disgust / borderline horror. Fair to say the night was not a resounding success. However the worst was yet to come because when we had finished and began to pack up, we realised that they had locked up the family dog in a stable behind where we were playing all night and as if the noise wasn’t disturbing enough it appears the dog caught the majority of the evening’s guff-crimes and we could hear him softly whimpering as we made our hasty exit. We didn’t get any other bookings from that gig….funny that.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 16 Jul 2007, 13:30, Reply)