Yee Hawww!!
Saturday. What a day!
It started at 11.00am when I went over to the good Reverend's abode to meet the man himself, Simon and Alex, and we decided to head into Bournemouth. We stopped off at the Lynton for a couple of celebratory whiskeys, as it was one year to the day that I have been drumming for the Reverend Hotfoot Jackson (as remembered by Will's fantastic, almost autistic memory!). We made it as far as O'Neills before stopping for a couple of beers to wash down the spirits. We started to make our way down to Borders, but fell into Daisy O' Briens for yet more malty brews.
A quick stop in HMV, and we headed for The Moon for the final beer. It was on our way here that Will had a most unfortunate turn of events. Myself, Simon and Alex we walking along when we suddenly heard a yelp of pain from behind us. We spun round to find Will hanging off a bollard by his bollocks, surrounded by teenage girls who were cruelly pointing and howling with laughter at his misfortune - he had somehow managed to walk his crotch straight into a metal pole! The poor bastard was a whiter shade of pale, and I couldn't see through my tears of guilty laughter!
Anyway, we made our way home until it was time for the Portman. From what I remember both bands were pretty good, but Hotrod Jesus were, as always, phenomenal. I spent the whole time heckling the bands like the drunken fool I by this time was. Unfortunately Mel wasn't feeling too good and decided to head home. If I was a decent human being I should have gone home with her, and I still feel so guilty about not doing so, but the booze had well and truly taken over by this point. It seemed like a good idea to go to the Villa, and grabbed the only willing party to tag along - Will. All I remember of the Villa is dancing the whole of the rest of the night like a baboon on acid, and many, many a bottle of Carlsberg.
It was a damned good night, but I think I've well and truly left myself in the dog-house with Mel, and shall spend the rest of the week making it up to her!
It started at 11.00am when I went over to the good Reverend's abode to meet the man himself, Simon and Alex, and we decided to head into Bournemouth. We stopped off at the Lynton for a couple of celebratory whiskeys, as it was one year to the day that I have been drumming for the Reverend Hotfoot Jackson (as remembered by Will's fantastic, almost autistic memory!). We made it as far as O'Neills before stopping for a couple of beers to wash down the spirits. We started to make our way down to Borders, but fell into Daisy O' Briens for yet more malty brews.
A quick stop in HMV, and we headed for The Moon for the final beer. It was on our way here that Will had a most unfortunate turn of events. Myself, Simon and Alex we walking along when we suddenly heard a yelp of pain from behind us. We spun round to find Will hanging off a bollard by his bollocks, surrounded by teenage girls who were cruelly pointing and howling with laughter at his misfortune - he had somehow managed to walk his crotch straight into a metal pole! The poor bastard was a whiter shade of pale, and I couldn't see through my tears of guilty laughter!
Anyway, we made our way home until it was time for the Portman. From what I remember both bands were pretty good, but Hotrod Jesus were, as always, phenomenal. I spent the whole time heckling the bands like the drunken fool I by this time was. Unfortunately Mel wasn't feeling too good and decided to head home. If I was a decent human being I should have gone home with her, and I still feel so guilty about not doing so, but the booze had well and truly taken over by this point. It seemed like a good idea to go to the Villa, and grabbed the only willing party to tag along - Will. All I remember of the Villa is dancing the whole of the rest of the night like a baboon on acid, and many, many a bottle of Carlsberg.
It was a damned good night, but I think I've well and truly left myself in the dog-house with Mel, and shall spend the rest of the week making it up to her!