The Tour The Tour Day Ten: Alton Towers Carpark VS Weerd Science

On Friday we had a day off. We were supposed to be playing Scarborough, which I was looking forward to, but some weird legal fuckery with the promoter lead to a last minute cancelation, so we suddenly had a fun-sized gap in our touring schedule.

“What would your ideal tour day off involve?” asked Lars when he told me. “Roller coaster,” I said.

I was not alone in my sentiment, and lo, on Friday morning, the Americans’ tour bus swung by our Travelodge to pick us up and take us all to ALTON BLOODY TOWERS. I was so excited. I hadn’t been to Alton Towers since I was at school. I stole one of those snappy dinosaur heads in a stick from the gift shop and got into trouble on the bus home for snapping girls’ asses with it. Ah, memories.

Serendipitously enough, the Burger King next to our Travelodge was offering 2 for 1 Alton Towers tickets, so we loaded up on shit coffee and shit fries and 2 for 1 tickets, and got our asses in the tour bus. MC Chris was reading a book on his iPad, and Science was resting his eyelids under the soothing, noir-light of the shutters. MC Kal was relaxing on bed at the back, and Lars, JTL and Tour Managing Welshman Ryu sat up front, trading gigglesome barbs.

We drove through the skeletons of old rollercoasters into the parking area, my belly bubbling with excitement (that or the dodgy BK coffee). Science, still mulling what went down last night, said he was going to stay in the van and get his shit together. I was like, “dude, really? No rollercoasters? Sitting in the van all day?” But he was sure. So off we went to the gates of glory. We ticketed up, said farewell to MC Chris, who wanted to run around on his own doing his Serious Sightseerer thing, and raced gleefully to the first rollercoaster.

After 7 hours of hardcore rollercoaster action we were knackered. We trudged wearily, yet happily back to the van, powered by the buzz from that last dose of double coaster action. We wondered how Science was after his long day in the van. As we approached the carpark, we could see him in distance, hulking outside the van in his three quarter length shorts. He started striding towards us. “Oh shit,” said Ryu, fearing the worst.

As he got closer we could see he was smiling. “THERE WAS A REASON!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “THERE WAS A REASON FOR ME TO BE IN THAT VAN ALL DAY! I STOPPED IT GETTING ROBBED!”

We were like, “The fuck?

By this point we could see all the smashed glass on the floor by the van, and the cop car, with cops buzzing around it. Turns out that not even an hour after we’d left him, Science had been woken by the sound of smashing glass, and through the van’s blacked out glass window spied a “punk rock robber” robbing the white van next to the white van he was cotching in, the one full of all our laptops, instruments, gear, merch and money. Suddenly the punk rck robber was tapping on the tour van window with a Maglight, looking for a good spot to smash.

“At this point I’d like to be able to say I burst out of the van all like, FUCK YOU DUDE, but I was shitting it,” said Science. “I opened the door a little bit, and just said, ur, please go away, I’m in here, so dude grabbed the stuff he’d stolen from the other van, jumped in his getaway car and he was gone.”

The police weren’t surprised. “Oh, that happens all the time,” they said.

So let that be a lesson to you – don’t leave anything in your vehicle if you park it outside Alton Towers. Unless you’ve got a big be-hoodied American to leave inside.

“I’m sorry about last night,” said Science, hugging Lars. “I love you dude. The rest of the tour is gonna be awesome.”

We all knew it to be a factual prediction. We’d just witnessed a beautiful moment of redemption. Full of shame, Science had decided to punish himself by staying in the van while we ran riot on rides, and in doing so he’d saved the tour.

“The universe is amazing,” said Science. “That’s why I had to have a shitty gig last night. I had to be here to protect the van.

A relieved and beaming American touring party, driven by a relieved and beaming Welshman tore off into the distance. Jack and I waited at the bustop, musing on our good fortune, while I tried to get an internet connection from my Dongle. My new video was on AOL.




I just saw this on the BBC:

Shell hit by falls in oil price Oil giant Royal Dutch Shell has posted a sharp fall in quarterly profits after the price of oil slumped dramatically towards the end of last year.

Profits for the final three months of 2008 fell by 28% to $4.8bn (£3.4bn) from $6.7bn the year previously.

Oh no! That sucks for them!  Hang on though, there's a but...

But annual profits at the Anglo-Dutch company rose 14%, to $31.4bn, helped by record oil prices over the summer.

Hello! Baking powder! PROFITS of 31.4 BEEEELION DOLLAR?!?!?! Oh, harsh times at Shell! Let us weep all at once!

Shell boss Jeroen van der Veer described the fourth quarter results as "satisfactory", given the fall in demand for oil and the weakening global economy.

I bet he fucking did, the evil bloodsucking hyena! I should say 31.d BEEEELION DOLLAR is satisfactory. What does it take to get a "fuck me, we are total evil geniuses and we win again! BWAH HA HA HA HA!" out of this dude? Crack?


In other news, Young Jeezy WON'T be appearing on Bill O'Reilly's show, contrary to his statements the ohter day, about he was "never scared", and suchlike. A wise move on his part, but I gotta admit I was looking forward to that. oh well.


So, there were a bunch of updates and pictures and things, and they got wiped! Oh, the tragedy. So, a recap. On my last day on Rivington Street I saw a white thug in an open-top Hummer drive by blasting out 'I Want The One I Can't Have' and nodding along with a serious expression about his face.

Then we went.

Wade and I ended up on the coach, as there was no room in the van, or car. We got there early, and checked out the scene. The scene is small.

We don't actually live in Woodstock. We live in Shandaken, outside. Well, just outside. Half way up a mountain, hidden away by forest, amongst bears and chipmunks and what have you. In a big old dusty house full of weird porn and broken stuff, with brown water and giant ants. Like, there's a jacuzzi, but it doesn't seem to work. There is the biggest TV you've ever seen, but it's got a big black tear across the front and doesn't tune properly. It's a two hour walk to the nearest shop, whihc is a petrol station, and does a good line in biscuits. The local girl's got a lot of guns.

It is very lovely to look at up in Shandaken. Mountains covered in trees, mainly. Streams. Clouds so low you can jump up and punch them.

I miss Wade, who is back in London sorting out affairs. All my stuff is in boxes.


So I fell alseep on the sofa after 5, and was awakened gently by Super Phil at 6:20, and it transpired Bird left my bag with my passport in it at the venue last night. But Bird's got me another ID card, so we're outside waiting for Jeff to pick us up at 6:30. And at midday we're in LA, and soon after that we're in Interscope's offices,and I'm filling a bag with Nirvana, Guns N Roses, Gilbert And Sullivan, Dre, Peter Gabriel, Police and other such back catalogue. Jimmy Iovine has a signed letter from Tupac and a video console that won't switch on. And loads of ideas. A balcony. A lush view. LA is lush to look at, from these places of advantage. Like, later we visit Jeff and Trent's, and there's this fucking alien cat that loves me, and an incredible, incredible view, of this desolate wilderness spattered with money.

It was a lovely day.

But in the nighttime it is hard not to see that LA is awash with cunts. It is a sad and massive amount of cunts, and I am not sure whether it is sad because this is what the world did to them, or because this is what they do to the world, or because they are cunts, and you can see their faces rotting right in front of your eyes.