Saturday: So I'm on the train going to Victoria and before we get there this dude in his thirties comes out of the loo that was occupied since I got on with a huge bag flopps down next to the seat I've got my feet up on and asks what station is next
"London Victoria"
"Rochester?"
He tells me he has to be in Dartford for rehab at half three, I glance at my watch, it's eleven minutes to four. He says he'll be in trouble because he's had a beer (the way he's slurring indicates that may be an understatement). He sees my tattoos and starts telling me about his mate with sleeves and the time he walked into a tattooist in Broadstairs and watched the guy give himself a Prince Albert (with vivid descriptions). He was eating a ham and mustard sandwich he tells me his Mum made him. Before I get off at Victoria he asks how he can get to Dartford and offers to roll me a cigarette.
It reminded me of this thing, I haven't been writing much lately and I think I owe the people who actually bother to read these things something good, Steve's told this story to a good few people but I don't think I've ever relayed this to anybody else. Me and Steve are on a Charring Cross train to get our money back on our tickets for a show that got cancelled and this guy gets on, throwing some packets of sweets he just stole onto the seat next to us, offering them to us, takes to tin foil out of the packets, asked to borrow Steve's lighter, fashions a tube out of one piece, puts some heroin on the other and starts smoking it. Steve engages him in conversation while I do my best to hold my breathe because unlike Steve, I actually realised what the guy was doing. He talks to us about music between tokes ".So what kind of music do you boys like?................I like Reggae myselfUB40.." He got off before us, we got off at Charring Cross, got something to eat and felt ill for having been near the scaggy cunt.
I go up to All Ages, get a couple of CDs and look for a flyer for tonight's show (no such luck), go to The World's End and get a ticket for Pelican and Torche next month. Do a dummy run of actually finding the venue and going back to Victoria, get something to eat at Wasabi and check the time for the last train home, go back to the venue. Got an orange juice at the bar and went over to the awesome juke box (The Clash, Television, MC5, Thin Lizzy, Black Sabbath, Descendants, Napalm Death, The Misfits, James Brown, Fucked Up, Hsker D and Led Zeppelin all in one place?) read for awhile and waited for doors upstairs to open.
Fixed Grins: "Brothers and Sisters, we are Fixed Grins, we've been together six weeks, this is our second ever show, we hope you enjoy it" kind of bog standard early eighties style Hardcore really, the best part was their mates heckling the singer for being German "Two world wars, one world cup!"
"Your schnitzel is ready!"
They didn't have that many songs so they ended with a cover of Where Eagles Dare by The Misfits "Tonight Mathew, I'm going to be Glen Danzig"
The Shitty Limits: I actually overheard one of them say behind me as Fixed Grins finished "we've going on as soon as, they want us to go on at half past, but fuck that." It was already after ten and I was worried that I wouldn't see much of Career Suicide or at all and the singer writing out the set list looked more like he was writing a fucking essay, but luckily their songs were really short and they were just knocking them out one after the other, plus they completely ignored requests for an encore. I thought they were at least better than Fixed Grins.
Career Suicide: So in the end I only saw twenty minutes of their set, but what I saw was pretty fucking rad.
Plus now I know what to expect at a show at the Old Blue Last I know only to go to a show if I want to see the support bands (Pulling Teeth are playing with Ringworm next Sunday).
I was a little disorientated when I left and actually started walking along the wrong street back to Old Street station for a few minutes and had to make a mad dash back. Ran from the Northern line at King's Cross to the Victoria line, managed to get to Victoria earlier than I expected so I took a more relaxed jog and made the last train home by five minuets. Found an almost deserted carriage and relaxed until a bunch of loud drunk arseholes yelling about how well Britain is doing in the Olympics disturbed my peace, one of whom insisted on shaking my hand and asking where I'm from
"Strood"
"Rochester?"
Got off at Chatham and got a taxi home.
"London Victoria"
"Rochester?"
He tells me he has to be in Dartford for rehab at half three, I glance at my watch, it's eleven minutes to four. He says he'll be in trouble because he's had a beer (the way he's slurring indicates that may be an understatement). He sees my tattoos and starts telling me about his mate with sleeves and the time he walked into a tattooist in Broadstairs and watched the guy give himself a Prince Albert (with vivid descriptions). He was eating a ham and mustard sandwich he tells me his Mum made him. Before I get off at Victoria he asks how he can get to Dartford and offers to roll me a cigarette.
It reminded me of this thing, I haven't been writing much lately and I think I owe the people who actually bother to read these things something good, Steve's told this story to a good few people but I don't think I've ever relayed this to anybody else. Me and Steve are on a Charring Cross train to get our money back on our tickets for a show that got cancelled and this guy gets on, throwing some packets of sweets he just stole onto the seat next to us, offering them to us, takes to tin foil out of the packets, asked to borrow Steve's lighter, fashions a tube out of one piece, puts some heroin on the other and starts smoking it. Steve engages him in conversation while I do my best to hold my breathe because unlike Steve, I actually realised what the guy was doing. He talks to us about music between tokes ".So what kind of music do you boys like?................I like Reggae myselfUB40.." He got off before us, we got off at Charring Cross, got something to eat and felt ill for having been near the scaggy cunt.
I go up to All Ages, get a couple of CDs and look for a flyer for tonight's show (no such luck), go to The World's End and get a ticket for Pelican and Torche next month. Do a dummy run of actually finding the venue and going back to Victoria, get something to eat at Wasabi and check the time for the last train home, go back to the venue. Got an orange juice at the bar and went over to the awesome juke box (The Clash, Television, MC5, Thin Lizzy, Black Sabbath, Descendants, Napalm Death, The Misfits, James Brown, Fucked Up, Hsker D and Led Zeppelin all in one place?) read for awhile and waited for doors upstairs to open.
Fixed Grins: "Brothers and Sisters, we are Fixed Grins, we've been together six weeks, this is our second ever show, we hope you enjoy it" kind of bog standard early eighties style Hardcore really, the best part was their mates heckling the singer for being German "Two world wars, one world cup!"
"Your schnitzel is ready!"
They didn't have that many songs so they ended with a cover of Where Eagles Dare by The Misfits "Tonight Mathew, I'm going to be Glen Danzig"
The Shitty Limits: I actually overheard one of them say behind me as Fixed Grins finished "we've going on as soon as, they want us to go on at half past, but fuck that." It was already after ten and I was worried that I wouldn't see much of Career Suicide or at all and the singer writing out the set list looked more like he was writing a fucking essay, but luckily their songs were really short and they were just knocking them out one after the other, plus they completely ignored requests for an encore. I thought they were at least better than Fixed Grins.
Career Suicide: So in the end I only saw twenty minutes of their set, but what I saw was pretty fucking rad.
Plus now I know what to expect at a show at the Old Blue Last I know only to go to a show if I want to see the support bands (Pulling Teeth are playing with Ringworm next Sunday).
I was a little disorientated when I left and actually started walking along the wrong street back to Old Street station for a few minutes and had to make a mad dash back. Ran from the Northern line at King's Cross to the Victoria line, managed to get to Victoria earlier than I expected so I took a more relaxed jog and made the last train home by five minuets. Found an almost deserted carriage and relaxed until a bunch of loud drunk arseholes yelling about how well Britain is doing in the Olympics disturbed my peace, one of whom insisted on shaking my hand and asking where I'm from
"Strood"
"Rochester?"
Got off at Chatham and got a taxi home.