Middlesbourgh was G-ed up like gangbusters! The Empire, in which we played, was fucking beautiful, the promoters were fucking PROS, we were given a fucking banquet of fruit and sandwitch making materials and drinks and crisps and a toaster and a kettle and cancerous glowsticks what I ate by accident AND whistles! AND a cowbell! The support, Danny Kebabs, were a wonderful gaggle of hardcore canists, who dressed in tights and wigs and played mentalist space boogie and Stars In Their eyes techno. The crowd was good looking and noisy, my band kicked ass, and I was fucking AWESOME! Yes it is true. What fun. What lawks! Someone payed Sheriff Fatman right before we went on. There was a curtain that revealled us! AND, when we got back to the hotel at 2 or 3 or whatever, the bar was open, and playing Chris de Burgh!
Not only that, but I got to witness Jeres wrapped in toilet roll, wearing a catwoman mask, and shaking his merry tits to the Kaiser Cheifs up on stage with all those mad Kebabs. And poor submissive Mary, who'd been trussed up in sellotape like a fucking hostage. Booya!
We're on route to Newcastle now, about to see the Angel Of The North. What a good idea touring is! See my horizons expand like Jeremy's gut!