Liverpool was so hardcore it took me till just now to recover, so think yourself lucky if you were there, and weep were you not. That there's a picture of about a quarter of our rider (and Mary poncing in a mirror), so if you bear in mind that I lurked in that there dressing room of ours for a good few hours prior to the gig while the others went back to the hotel to get ponced, AND I was nice enough to allow Howard Marks to share it with us, well, yeah. All that. Mr Marks, happily DOES always have fine hash on him, and I was clever enough not to smoke too much. However, the proprietors of the Legal Highs stall liked our gig enough to want to chuck free Things down my neck after, so it is no surprise that at 10 am I still hadn't got back to the hotel to meet the others, and was, in the end, an hour and a half late, for which I must apologise to Tour Manager Dan. And thank my benevolent Liverpudlian hosts. PAX!
Right. Off to Cardiff now. Well, first I must go have some kind of a human encounter. In the raining. Then Cardiff. CARDIFF! Hoo-Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrah!