The Adelaide music scene: to many of you it might be little more than a touring speed bump between Melbourne and Perth but to us it's a way of life. Feast within, on all its dysfunctioning splendour, as we bring you the highly satirical, laughingly fictional and intellectually imbecile tales from our rock & roll wasteland...
"I WENT TO AN ALLEYWAY SHOW AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY BLOG.." BECAUSE SOMETIMES SHIT DON'T QUITE WORK AS PLANNED / Friday October 29th 2010
*Fuck* I'm pretty sure tonight wasn't meant to turn out like this: this slapdash mess you see here before you, this ridiculous punchline in search of a setup, this proverbial scrabble set in search of a satient narrative.. FUUUCK!! Or at least I was kinda sure it wouldn't? awwww hell who am I kidding here!? OF COURSE IT WOULD!! of all my dumb luck it would TOTALLY blow up in my face! I mean where do we even begin with this shit? Alleyway Shows.. HA HA HA Alleyway Shows!? Oh I heard all about that crap for months now.. MONTHS!! Like Chinese whispers they'd grow ever more insane with every installment: "fly by night operations" they were.. or so I assumed. I swear I saw some youtubes once: night vision style, but since lost track of the link. Then someone added me to a list I think? I forget who. I'd get facebook invites ever more scant on details save for a time and place pending on "further instructions": abandoned warehouses? powered by electrical generators? goonsacks and garage bands? peeps totally losing their shit in the dark? all that idiocy and urban decay!? HELL YES!! It would've been the maddest hookup EVER to see one firsthand. You would've bugged the fuck out if ever I caught definitive proof on a blog: bugs the size of hubcaps maaan! BUGS THE SIZE OF FUCKING BIGFOOT!! No really it would've been something totally fresh: a night out in the Adelaide scene freed from the same 'ol "routine", the same 'ol schtick, the same 'ol establishing shot of the same 'ol sanitised A-Z: "hey look it's The Ed Castle again!" followed by two to five bands you've already seen upteen billion times before followed by me getting "hilariously" drunk at Supermild.. WHOOOP-DI-FUCKING-DOO!! Oh yeaaah I could picture it all now, my grand salvation from all that: all grainy lo-def, shitty flash photography in shittier surrounds, like rats in a cage witness to music wrung back to its very roots, nothing but kill or be killed, so much character, so much carnage.. WHAT COULD BE BETTER THAN THAT!? HA HA HA NOTHING YOU FOOLS!! And yet for all its promise, for all its planning verging on a terrorist plot? sometimes a plan just doesn't quite go the way it should. Sometimes a plan just fails. And sometimes it fails SO spectacularly (and how) that you can't help but write a blog about it regardless.. a "blog" rather like THIS one!
7:55PM - Yup and it all starts here on a street corner somewhere in the Adelaide CBD, on a rainy Friday night in October, for an "8PM meet up" (ie: just look for the crowd milling about doing their utmost to look inconspicuous, save for the fact there's at least 15-20 of them... ooops!). A street corner I don't dare name; as much as the photos above and below may provide a teeny tiny clue (or maybe I'm just fucking with you) for this ain't exactly the most "legal" of operations, just like this ain't the first time I've attempted to cover one of these either. That was back in July and long story short? a generator blew up a guitar amp, show got cancelled, and here I am again tonight. Awesome! Still tonight's gonna be different, tonight's got good feeling about it, or at the very least tonight I've got a super sneaky "contact" working on the inside who'll totally give me advance warning if it ever this plan goes to pudding. For the sake of anonymity let's call her "Miss Molotov", "Lunatic Fringe" or fuck it.. just "Anya Anastasia" (an all too ridiculous nom de plume if ever I heard one) who may or may not be performing tonight; either way she's the one who tells me JUST as I'm arriving that it's already been busted by the cops. "HA HA HA WHAT.. BUSTED ALREADY!?".
8:21PM - Of course I didn't quite believe it meself, as surely it couldn't happen this early? not again!? HA HA HA NOT AGAIN!! So I sent a message to my contact to clarify. I got word back on a leather jacket that she'd ripped whilst attempting to slip under a fence in a mad panic to flee (she found it amusing in the least) but little else to go on. Still short of concrete confirmation you could still sense it in the increasingly befuddled expressions around me. Whispers of two cop cars, thirty to forty odd people caught "red handed" (only it was too many for them to take details), a mad scuffle to get the fuck out of there and threats of "dogs being let loose" if ever anyone was foolish enough to return. Or in other words, show was all but cancelled. FUUUCK!! But eventually I did manage to track down the organiser (hard to miss, he was pacing pack and forth playing a frantic game of phone pong at the time) who for the sake of anonymity we'll call "Agent Orange". He all but confirmed the rumours, better yet he even agreed to show me the location once the "heat" had cleared. And as much as I can't tell you WHERE it is? it was funny observe just how close it was to where we were standing mere moments before. That behind our candy coated "concrete and glass" facade all these potential "live venues" exist: disused factories, rotting warehouses, circa 1800's to early 1900's, all but condemned (but likely "heritage listed") and all but ignored by the public at large. And all the while we keep building more and more suburbs ever outwards (100kms north to south and climbing) with little or no population, public transport or amenities to support them instead of redeveloping all this prime real estate in our midst!? AAAAHaHAhahAhahA YOU IDIOTS!! But clearly this wasn't the time or place to discuss such matters.. and so we pressed on further.
8:24PM - Following Agent Orange's lead we ducked under a corrugated iron and wire fence, crawling out the other end covered in dirt and mud, to claim our prize once more. The cops had already cleared out by this point (at least he assured me they had) only any plans of using this as a location still were clearly out of the question (no point risking their return) but there WAS the matter of collecting all the equipment that'd been left behind.. and hey while we were at it, what harm would there be in showing me around? It was still raining however, so I only took this one photo at the entrance: the actual venue being behind those wooden doors in front of me. Wooden doors I'm told weren't even here yesterday when they were setting up "shop" but had been erected since. So fuck it, they figured they'd simply tear them right down again. Only a passing office worker spotted the resulting commotion, called the cops.. and the rest as they say is history. Still there was another way in: all you need do was slide down a muddy escarpment, crawl under a wire fence and through a wall into the "basement" and then play hopscotch with a sequence of stone blocks and milk crates over what I hoped was shallow water in the dark to get there. And I was totally down with that plan too, right upto the point that Agent Orange almost tripped and fell in the water in front of me; turns out one of the stone blocks (or was it the milk crates?) was a little bit "wobbly". I briefly entertained the notion of pressing on regardless: only to consider the cost of replacing my phone, camera, ipod (containing over 12000 songs, a few seasons worth of TV and movies) if "worse came to worse" and then promptly considered otherwise (if it helped though Agent Orange was totally cool with that) and then I simply crawled back out onto the street again. Hmmm.. so guess that's it then? Alleyway Show cancelled. Game over maaan.. GAAAME OVER!!
8:43PM - Or so I thought, whilst washing the mud off me with water from a pothole puddle, until word got around again (as my contact had long since fled to The Exeter) that this whole event: all seven bands worth was relocating to Squatter's Arms. Which was news to both me and Agent Orange but a few phonecalls seemed to confirm it.. so to hell with it, we both jumped into his car and made haste. And better yet? there was now another motivating factor for me too. You see for the past year or so I'd always been meaning to catch a show at this "shiny new" live venue (former titty bar). Partly for the pure novelty of it, but also as a favour to Paul Belial who books the bands here. Yup you may remember him as former lead singer for Circle Clan and as (current?) lead singer for NFI and THIS right here is very much his baby, his pet project, his raison d'etre. And for the past year or so I've been clearly snubbing it in favour of what? an avalanche of launch parties, festivals, debuts and farewell shows!? (let alone that one night I caught Tame Impala at The Governor Hindmarsh and I ran passed his venue TWICE rather than do him the honours!?). Yes I know.. I know! I'm a total fucking arsehole for doing that. But not tonight, NOT TONIGHT!! Tonight I'm totally gonna make it up to him: like killing two birds with one stone.. THIS was meant to be!
8:50PM - And here we are at last! and this is their live stage, and no shit isn't it a thing of true beauty!? Countless gigs have been hosted here over the past year or so: punk, metal, you name it (but mostly punk and metal) in fact in many ways it's become everything The Crown & Anchor used to be in its heyday right down to all the pissdrunk punk regulars you'd find here both at the bar and serving behind it (Dick Dale anyone!?) who for various reasons were BANNED from The Crown & Anchor for being too fuckoff awesome and ridiculously righteous (or possibly destructively violent to patrons and public property alike, but pfft.. who cares about all that?). And to think all these colourful characters and all their stories, all their rich history inhabits these walls now? in fact you can damn near taste it the smell's THAT richly fragrant! and not just because any number of them may've urinated on them just last night, no THIS right here is a legend in the making! And to think this is only the first time I've ever stepped foot in here!? for shame Spoz.. FOR SHAME!!
8:52PM - But of course being the first to arrive here, I soon discovered something a little "amiss" with our plan, a little something that should've been bleedingly obvious to just about ANYONE with even a passing familiarity in live venues and the effective running of them (let alone write a stupidarse blog on it) and that was the fact that they'd already booked months in advance. Ooops! Yup turns out what had ACTUALLY happened here was that ONE of the bands from our Alleyway Show (I won't incriminate who) had phoned in advance and booked themselves in as the fifth band on a four band bill. Word then got around, only the word somehow got lost in translation as "all the bands got booked" and yeaaah.. how do we put this delicately!? AAAAHAHAHahAhaHahA!! *ahem*. Still I briefly DID entertain the notion of reviewing all these bands at Squatters Arms instead: only to consider the resulting cost of all the dental, orthopedic and psychiatric work such a live review of Leather Messiah, Glamville, Meat Tray, Isolation Valve (plus one extra band) would likely involve either during or AFTER the fact of publishing it and then promptly considered otherwise. But one day Paul, ONE DAY I will totally blog the shit out of your shit, I will SO do you proud.. YOU'LL SEE!!
9:07PM - So from here on in I had only one "plan" left: catch the tram back in the city, walk the remaining distance to The Exeter and drink myself so hysterically blind that I'd totally forget this night ever happened.. or pretty much what I do almost EVERY night I'm out (only this time I'd also erase all evidence off my camera so I'd never be compelled to write a retarded blog about it) but just before I could catch that "tram" I'm then interrupted by a ragtag bunch of refugees from the Alleyway Show just arriving. Of course they didn't know about the whole "Squatter's" situation (as Agent Orange had only dropped me off on the way to take care of some errands) so I headed over to fill them in on it; but as it turns out they already had a backup plan anyways. Apparently there was this "house party" raging just a few short blocks from here, we could totally bring all the live bands, rock a few goonsacks and we'd be pulling mad shapes in next to no time.. crisis SOLVED!! And since I clearly had nothing left to lose here? (aaaah screw it!) I happily agreed to join them.
9:11PM - Now obviously I couldn't tell you where this house party was being held at tonight, and not for the reasons you might think. As to be honest I didn't have the first fucking clue just where the hell we were anyways; just as technically this wasn't a "house party" at all but simply 30-40 odd people crashing some random share household in the western suburbs looking to start some shit.
9:13PM - Still not only were our hosts here more than gracious and accommodating (or possibly recently deceased and buried in the backyard after a few swift blows with the blunt end of a shovel) but their household proved more than ideal for our purposes too (and by "our" I clearly mean I'm disavowing all involvement if ever this devolves into a fullblown hostage situation). I mean just look at that inflatable pool for instance: is that the maddest hookup ever for a Friday night out OR WHAT!? No no you don't have to tell me how jealous you are for not being here.. this shit was on!
9:18PM - I mean granted their "catering" did leave a little to be desired (although admittedly we DID spring them off guard here all a sudden) but they did more than make up for it in other ways.
Like in providing us with all the "pink" and "green" goon we could possibly ever handle just short of our kidneys exploding out of our ears. I know, we truly lucked out with this shit tonight didn't we!?
And if plying yourself with stupifyingly lethal amounts of alcohol wasn't providing nearly enough "shits and giggles" for you here tonight? (pfft.. and since when could that eventuate!?) then there's always THIS. And no I'm not trying to clever, or abstract or obscure with this photo or anything. I am actually referring to that painted yellow sign that says "The Crumpet". I mean seriously, it's an ACTUAL sign that says "The Crumpet". Think about that for a moment: "THE CRUMPET". HOW FUCKING MAD IS THAT SHIT!? I mean doesn't it just blow your mind or what!? HA HA HA FUUUCK!!
9:28PM - Aaaah now THIS is the appropriate mood we wanna portray here: except for the fact we're still missing bass player Tasman Strachan (who's otherwise "unavailable" for no good reason whatsoever *cough*). But just look at all the disappointment their eyes, JUST LOOK AT THEM GAWDDAMNIT!! Don't they just make you wanna burst into tears like Bambi's mum biting a bullet to the head!? awwww I know! I KNOW!! You see tonight was gonna be their triumphant farewell, no.. no, they're not breaking up or anything! they're all set to fly to London and tour Europe for the next few months and this would've been the show to end all shows before their return.. or at least until the cops totally busted it BEFORE THEY EVEN GOT ON STAGE!? FUUUCK OFF!! Still if it's any consolation they did end up gate crashing Billy Bob's BBQ Jam at The Grace Emily on Monday night. And not only did they rock the "sewerage system" out of that joint like a proverbial pretzel it was THAT shit hot, but they're also proved to be one of the few recorded incidences of an "open mic night" actually attracting its own crowd surfers. Yup, and THAT'S what we missed out on here tonight. I know.. I understand.. take all the time you need, it's totally choking me up inside too!
9:31PM - Still we're putting all those misgivings aside maaan! we're making the most of a bad situation! For as promised this impromptu party wasn't without its fair share of whizzbang live entertainment. And I don't just mean people taking turns to pee on "The Crumpet", taking photos and tagging each other on facebook (hmmm come to think of it, why DIDN'T we think of that shit!? that would've been hilarious!) nope we're talking actual live music people! we're talking THE VERY BEST!! For surely nothing beats bespectacled dweeb in a novelty Simpsons knit sweater fanging the FUCK out a ukulele. Huh? HUH!? WHAT, YOU THINK YOU COULD DO BETTER!? pfft.. I larf at you!
10:27PM - And then there's the gift that keeps on giving in the form of Frank Lloyd here. Who the FUCK is he? HA HA HA who the fuck ISN'T he duuude!? He's everything your party ever needs! And not just because he was the former drummer for Kytes Of Omar (cue sound of crickets chirping?) or current drummer for The Systemaddicts (the most head explodingly awesome band you've never even heard of) or lead singer in some other new band I don't even know the name of but at the very least for the fact that he can grow some seriously fucked up facial hair.. oh we're talking some serious "Abraham Lincoln" neckbeard material here people! I mean doesn't that just make you wanna drink yourself into a "front page statistic" in RIOTOUS CELEBRATION!? I know I sure as shit do.. or at the very least I did until he helpfully suggested when I die (possibly as an "indirect" result of doing just that) he'll totally be the first one to throw me a tribute night in my honour. No really, he may even have given me THIS face when he said that too; which in NO way suggests he'll want to host this "posthumous shindig" anytime too soon.. no *cough* not at all!
10:47PM - And so completely unrelated to all that, here I am at The Ed Castle all a sudden: only a mere fifteen minutes walk away (or just five if you're fleeing screaming and flailing like your very life depends on it.. GUH!!) and yes I know what you're all thinking in following too: "The Ed Castle!? AGAIN!? OF ALL THE DUMB FUCKING PLACES YOU HAD TO CHOOSE TONIGHT, YOU HAD TO CHOOSE HERE!? WHY DAMNIT.. WHHHY!?". Well yes I understand your concerns, as yes it IS an ongoing punchline of mine, and yes I have no good reason for being here (and about a billion good reasons NOT TO BE) as much as it's also the ONE live venue that's in closest proximity if ever I find myself fleeing a potentially cannibalistic scenario in the western suburbs (aaah and if only I had a dollar for everytime that's ever happened too!). Just as much as I could've also chosen The Wheatsheaf, The Jolly Miller, The Governor Hindmarsh, The Grace Emily.. fuck it, even Squatter's Arms (yes Paul I know, I FUCKING KNOW!!) and aaaah screw it, I'm just gonna get a beer huh?
THE SWEET DECLINE (!?) myspace :: Now clearly I've picked THE BEST night to be at The Ed Castle.. as much as it was purely a spur of a moment decision, or perhaps just "mental illness" that lead me here (or likely a bit of both). And not just because I've lucked upon yet another whizzbang installment of Transmission Live (clearly THE raging highlight in anyone's social calendar.. woooo!) but also because it's one that almost nobody thought to attend tonight. Ooops! I mean clearly it's just the rain and the freakish winter conditions washing all the crowds away "damn you La Niña.. DAAAMN YOU!!" and absolutely nothing to do with the bands that were billed to play (huh.. what? I didn't say anything I swear!). But I tell you what it IS a ghost town maaan! An observation made all too apparent when doorbitch Olivia startles herself back into consciousness as I arrive: "holy shit duuude! you're the first person I've seen in 20 minutes! 20 MINUTES!!" only to discover that next to no one's floating about in the beer garden either. Awesome! But at the very least all THIS shit didn't matter a thing when I stepped into the band room (pfft.. HELL NO!!) because as it turns out I still managed to catch the last three to four songs of the ONE live act worth catching in this trainwreck (no less proverbial than actual) tonight, our opening act: The Sweet Decline. Now obviously this isn't me writing a live review in following.. HA HA HA WHAT ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? Nope I've merely added all these live photos and video on as a mere afterthought so that all this shit will still be counted as a "live music blog" by gross technicality. But hey if you're at all curious? I did write one up on them a little under four months ago when they played The Grace Emily with "The Battery Kids" (aka: The Honey Pies on a bad night) and it's pretty much the same thing here. Or in other words? if the sounds of both Liam and Noel Gallagher being beaten to death in a wind tunnel by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club is totally your "thing".. and shit duuude how could it NOT be!? then you'll totally love the FUCK out of this!
11:25PM - Minutes later I collapse into one of those comfy couches at the back of the room, sift through my camera logs as I attempt to make heads or tails of what the fuck just happened to my Friday night (ie: just shy of something stupid that M. Night Shyamalan might direct and don't we all just know it!) and it is here that I'm then interrupted by Alana Mazurke.. only I don't know her as "Alana Mazurke" but as "Tiny Shorts" manager for The Sweet Decline. So named for that one night I met her at The Metro a month ago when she was wearing these ridiculously teeny tiny cut-off denim shorts. And obviously I'm telling you this NOW in the hopes that everyone will totally adopt this as her nickname above any good work she might actually be doing for her adoptive band (why? because it's fucking hilarious THAT'S WHY!). Unfortunately I've long since forgotten what wildly important "music industry" business we might've been discussing in following (but if it helps The Sweet Decline truly couldn't ask for a better manager) as it's long since been drowned out by the horror upon horrors we witnessed exploding from the live stage soon after. Clearly words cannot express it (just as I dare not give them free publicity by mentioning them my name) but if you can half imagine the sounds of Daft Punk as performed by bonehead jocks using nothing but Super Nintendos cranked to volumes that would strip paint off walls, or rather like the sound of one square note being smashing into a round hole over and over to the howling cacophony of an AFL team chant? then you may come close to understanding Tiny Shorts' "pained expression" here.
12:06AM - Obviously I had to get the fuck out of there. And not just into the beergarden either (where you could STILL hear them blasting all those spastic Tetris shapes over the glaringly absent DJ who likely also fled in abject terror). Nope only the east end of Adelaide would ever suffice to get us away from this shit. Only then I couldn't do it alone (no that'd be downright cruel of me!) I had to save as many people as possible. Only it took a little longer than anticipated to convince anyone (HA HA HA no seriously!?) and even then I only managed to grab Anthony Candlish and Adam Vanderwerf from Ride Into The Sun before we made that mad dash for freedom. And as for what any of this shit has got to do with that gash on Adam's head there (or why we saw fit to take a photo of it just now) yeaaah funny story that.. perhaps you should ask him about it sometime?
12:25AM - In our infinite wisdom we decided to take the journey by foot: firstly because we figured it'd be good exercise (yeaah not like any of us binge drinkers needed it or anything) but also because every single taxi that passed us by immediately freaked the fuck out at the mere sight of us leaving The Ed Castle and sped away in a squeal of car tires. Hmmm.. that's odd? Still at the very least it did provide us with some "opportune discoveries" along the way. Like this lush burst of greenery that'd seemingly exploded into life overnight amongst the concrete pylons leading from Pultney Street "Hepatitis Js" into Rundle, one so "fuck off" miraculous in fact we couldn't help but document it here. I mean no kidding right? since when did THAT SHIT HAPPEN!?
12:29AM - Obviously we'd end up at The Exeter next, as much as we'd been dropping hints all night that this would eventuate, as much as upon arrival we knew that our fortunes could only but improve for choosing it. I mean where else would you ever go after a fucked up hilarious night like THIS!? HA HA HA.. NOWHERE THAT'S WHAT!! For only HERE does it all start to make sense again!
12:33AM - Case in point: no sooner did I walk in through that front door than I bump into both Hannah and Charlotte here. Who? pfft.. who the fuck knows? I wish I knew myself!? I mean how DO I keep meeting all these people!? "Supermild!?" yeaaah pretty much. But the details truly don't matter when you've got pegs.. yes PEGS!! which for no good reason (other than the fact it's clearly the most mind blowing shit ever) clearly called for celebration by taking all these photos just now.
Aaaah hell! and to think I thought this night was a total bust until now? NOT ANYMORE IT AIN'T!!
12:41AM - And soon after I also catch up with "Miss Molotov", "Lunatic Fringe" or yeaaah we pretty much know who I'm referring to here, and would you believe her band Bird Wizdom is totally recording their second album as we speak? "whoaaa.. what? I didn't even know they had a FIRST ALBUM!?" (I know duuudes, I know! I'm totally excited about that shit too!). And it's here that I also get an opportune moment to inspect all the damage caused to her jacket when she did a mad runner to escape the po-po, the fuzz, the big FIVE-O earlier tonight. And by "inspect" I clearly mean take all these photos while she pulls all manner of batshit-crazy facials to accompany them.
12:58AM - And as stated befoe: there was only one clear aim in being at The Exeter tonight (besides simply soaking up the raging awesomatude that is this place 24/7.. woooo!) and that's to drink ourselves so hysterically blind that we forgot this night ever happened; which should make it all the easier for me to remember the "particulars" when I choose to write a blog about it (but hey, them's the price you pay!). Now obviously mere pints weren't going to measure upto the task at hand: only jugs, many MANY jugs of beer piled up into pyramids to tickle the ceiling tiles (with the occassional bottle of wine) could ever be deemed worthy. And as for why Anya had to appear in this photo just now to illustrate this point? oh I wish I knew! she's such a serial scene stealer I swear!
1:08AM - As such we figured we might wanna provide a little "light entertainment" for all you poor fools reading this at a later date (for what would otherwise be a mind numbing sequence of us drinking beer?) because fuck it we clearly haven't been taking nearly enough stupid photos as it is tonight, and the world would all the richer if we featured photos of Adam pulling shit like THIS.
Followed by Anya pulling more of the same.
And this tripped out photo of Paul "The Nazz" Nassari that makes him look for all the world like the demented "lovechild" between Yoda and Jeff Goldblum. No.. no need to thank me, THANK YOU!!
Only to have my efforts all but blown away by Anya's sister Elena here. And better yet the eyes totally follow you around and everything!? I know.. these peeps truly DO continue to astound me!
1:57AM - And then completely unrelated to all that we're promptly thrown out by barstaff into the "alfresco" area to keep on drinking. And I can say this because it's a pub on Rundle Street: where binge drinking is nothing but high culture, class and sophistication (except when its at The Austral). And obviously we're told rather politely to do this because they're closing up "soon". Just as we're totally willing to believe this over the real reason: "we're simply waaay too fucking crazy for The Exeter" (no mean feat lemme tell you!). Still it's of little concern to me now, as I've since found myself in possession of this fuck off "cinema sized" packet of cheese and onion chips.. SCORE!!
2:14AM - Only to realise a full fifteen minutes later that they actually belonged to Trixie here. Who the FUCK is Trixie!? you know I never really asked anyone that.. but here she is regardless!
2:17AM - And so with no other option available but to flee The Exeter flailing and screaming; as much as Trixie really didn't "mind" (in fact she was more than happy to share them around) I briefly consulted with Anya's legs here over what course of action to take: "so what do you reckon? Supermild? Supermild!? it's totally Supermild riiight!?". To which Anya's legs promptly replied "ask the head ya dingbat!". At which point I did, and in agreeance we both fled the fuck out of there.
2:45AM - Now we could've just walked all the way to Supermild, but Anya came up with an even better "plan". All we need do was find some suitably "gullible" English tourists (anywhere from slightly drunk to a few shades short of "category five" soccer hooligan should suffice) mention that Supermild is this shit awesome swing joint that'll totally be open still in the west end blah-di-blah "longnecks!", split a taxi with them, then "accidently" get them to pay the full fare, then send them packing into Elysium instead before they even knew what hit them. Or at the very least that's what I assumed was her "genius plan" when she somehow pulled ALL the above without even blinking. WHOAAAA!! And as for what ANY of this shit has got to do with both Hannah and Charlotte here making a second appearance in this blog for no good reason whatsoever? (I mean c'mon, where's all the pegs damnit!? the people demand nonsensical pegs!) aaaah who cares.. SUPERMILD YO!!
2:47AM - Which then brings me to Charlotte's sister Lucy here. "Which Lucy!?" yeaaah I know there's like fifty billion of them (no believe me I know!), and anywhere upto three of them seem to frequent Supermild at any given time (and the less said about that specials board that sells them by the six pack the better!) but somehow I think you still know who I'm referring to. No not THAT one, the other one. Got it? you don't really care either way? awesome! Anyhoo the reason I'm mentioning her now, is because she's drawn my attention to THIS: this mysterious bite mark found on her arm. Hmmm "mysterious" indeed! Now obviously I asked all the pertinent questions you'd normally ask in a situation like this, beginning with the relatively straightforward: "HA HA HA so who was it!?" and ending with the utterly clueless: "whoaaa.. shit that wasn't ME now was it!?". Except before I COULD ask, someone handed me a long neck, possibly because I ordered one without even thinking, and then I promptly lost all memory of what I did for the next forty five minutes or so. Hmmm. At the very least? I didn't wake up in an emergency ward when I did.. so YAY for me!
3:32AM - Instead I regain consciousness here. And by "regain consciousness" I clearly mean this was the next photo I found on my camera the next day to piece together this increasingly sketchy narrative, as much as it's of little help to me now to explain just why the FUCK I took it. Except to suggest that maybe all three of these freaks: Todd Lawrie, Matt Kelsh and Guillaume Vétu have somehow formed a "band" for the sole purpose of giving Guillaume any legitimate excuse he can think of to pull THAT ridiculous facial expression more times than is deemed entirely necessary in normal civilised society. And obviously I was very much in agreeance with his oddball philsophy, and shit just look at him maaan.. wouldn't YOU wanna encourage that insanity? it's freaking gold!
4:28AM - Which then leads me to take this photo of Ruby Chew, for no other good reason than I always seem to take her photo when I'm this ridiculously shitfaced (not to imply I'm anywhere near that "sober" right now.. I'm just saying!). Only for Ruby Chew to see the resulting photo, pull a face in mock indignation and go: "awwww maaan you always get me at the end of the night when I'm looking my worst!". Yes there's a damn good reason for that. I always get you looking your "worst" because I really don't think photobucket, blogger or the internet in general is ready for you when you're looking your "best". In other words? fuck damn my female friends are ever so pretty!
4:33AM - Which possibly explains why I'm here questioning my own "sanity" all a sudden. Only I've been doing THIS a lot lately: mostly just to see if I'll recognise myself staring back at me and not some "sneezing troglodyte" that's since stolen my identity (but also because they frequently make for wickedarse hilarious profile shots that pretty much confirms the latter) but more for the fact that with my frequently "stunted" intellect to match (or lack thereof) I've somehow bluffed my way through a monumentally fucked up Friday night out (and then some!) tonight and made it into something near resembling a ridiculously AWESOME Friday night out.. and I'm looking at myself here, and I'm seeing this hairy knuckle dragging simpleton two rungs down on the "Ascent Of Man Evolutionary Chart" staring back at me and I'm wondering.. JUST HOW THE FUCK DID I DO IT!?