Bang Bang Bang
Tonight should go bang. Tomorrow will explode awesomely, if I can get from wholesome Highgate to dirty ol' Herne Hill in time for the excessive explosive madness. The very affable, pikey welder in the arch adjacent to my artist friends is, apparently, completely firework obsessed and has spent £5000 on the fuckers. He plans to have his teenage son driving a forklift truck loaded with fireworks as a feature of his (carefully?) choreographed display. It sounds like it should be scarily impressive, and certainly not for pussycats. His new bird will be doing chillie and things, and the DnA boys will probably ramp up the amp as the night goes on. Mad artists and madder pikies, should make a show of it: I'm really keen to get there. I only hope I can escape the other in time.