Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Foot massage and road rage

Del and I went to the 27th annual beer festival in Peterborough We started at A and only got to C and there's only two days left for us. The rest of the time we have gigs to play. So we're sitting there quaffing the finest beers and discussing what I'm going to write next. It could be " Zen and the art of foot massage" or "Zen and the art of road rage" Del is going for the foot massage story. Now this could be tricky for me because it's very close to home. Names will have to be changed and bodily protection arranged. So when I say it happened in Worcestershire. You'll have to accept that Worcerstershire wasn't the actual venue for this event. And when I say it was Rebecca that's not her real name. She will know it's her and her boyfriend will certainly know it's him so I am going to have to disguise this story for my own safety. I'm not even going to ask you to vote on this one. Because Del really wants it. And as he's one of my best friends, who am I to argue?
We're really busy for the next few days what with the beer festival and the bank holiday gigs. So I crave your patience. I haven't written it yet. Tomorrow I'll ask Petal if she wants a foot massage or Road rage. She'll go for the foot massage. Most girls do. You know what I'm saying. So I don't care if you vote or not. Do you want a foot massage or don't you?

Hey I'm sorry a lot of you didn't get to comment on the last vote. But apparently Haloscan fucked up. I had all sorts of phone calls complaining that they couldn't find the comments button. It wasn't my fault, honest. I'm just a musician, what do I know about computers? I don't have Quarsan at my shoulder to tell me when things have fucked up.

On the way out of the beer fest we passed a stand selling olives. The young lady there invited Del and I to try the white olives. White olives? Yeah right. they weren't white olives at all but pickled garlic cloves. We ate them and said "these are not olives."
"no it's pickled garlic. I promise they dont leave a taste."
All I can say is I'm glad I sleep alone tonight. As an experiment Del kissed his wife when she came to pick us up in the car. She didn't notice. Maybe she was too polite. She only commented that "I've had worse."

Tomorrow beer festival part 2. Can Del and I survive? Only time will tell. I gotta go to bed now before I fall asleep at this keyboard.

Rock on dudes.


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