The Twodayer.

I realised on Sunday morning, after reading the papers while waiting to be picked up, that I was in the wrong business. If you want to make money these days then you better be a polititian or the head of a bank, they are the only people in the position to steal money and get away with it. Hell if you are PM you can kill people, thousands of people, and not only get away with it, but paid well to boot. There is certainly little money to be made in the music industry. When I was finally picked up I wondered if what they say is true, if everyone really is on the breadline, will people venture out to gigs on a sunday and monday night? I certainly hoped so. Myself, Fergus and Stu hit the road, Dragon was not with us as he had business in London for his other project, so we arranged to meet him in Milton Keynes. Before that we had to negotiate our way down the Country. What started as a leasurely Sunday avo drive quickly turned into a race against time to make soundcheck, and to prevent my bladder from exploding all over the front seats/windshield/friends. We made it in time, dispite being late, there was alot of technical dificulties holding up proceedings. I did manage to piss for atleast 3 minutes solid however. The venue was a place called The Crauford Arms, or something like that, it was big and the show went well, dispite the failing P.A and the stained carpets. We ended up having a rather big night after the show, and the landlord let us drink until 4 or there abouts. The place was grotty but the drink is well priced and you don't worry about making a mess, because there already was one. I filled my system with many different ciders, pear, strawberry, regular and the new flavour walkers. Which, by the way, are all shit, none deserve to win, the fish and chips are awful, only two things should smell and taste like that and neither of them are crisps.
By the time we retired up to the bedrooms we had gained two new room mates in the shape of Mac and Scat, who bunked on the floor of Dragon and Gus' room. Later myself and Spider would try to share a single bed to watch the news updates on the Oscars, but by lights out I had to bail on to the floor, the bed was just that little bit too small and the close proximity of my face to the sharp corner of the sideboard had me worried about falling out of the bed. When we woke up I was not too shocked to find out that the hotel didn't have a shower, just a bath. At least it wasn't a tin bath like in the westerns, I was alomost positive it would be. If you ever stay there I would suggest always wearing shoes when walking about on the carpets, that's all I'm saying. As everyday tour tasks go, the early morning load out and waking Dragon up the morning after the night before are the two biggest, sadly both needed done on this morning, me and Spider took care of it, then Gus, like our American cousins, joined in for the final push. We eventually woke Dragon up, ofcourse all the packing was finished, he was suprised to find out there was no shower. We got some good hot rolls and escaped to London, with me cosying up to the gear in the back of the transit.

Day two was a first in Sucios touring days, a press day. First stop was to record an interview for the Dan Carter rock show, not with Dan, but with the lovely Nan. We were met there by Jon from the label, who made sure we got from there to the next interview which was a video interview for an online magazine of sorts, if my memory serves correctly. Everyone was phone mad during that interview, except Spider who didn't seem to get any love from his phone. Even I got a call, and I never have calls. The Riff was on the blower trying to find us, which only served to show just how little I know about London, and how little I pay attention to my surroundings. The Riff was in Kentish town heading to the venue, and it turned out we were in Hackney, that's what the giant fucking sign above my head said anyway, which was pointed out to me when I asked a passer by where exactly I was. When we finally finished with the press, we made our way back to the van, where I finished off the amazing Costco sandwiches I brought with me, really incredible sarnie, cheese and parmaham, shaped like a massive bagel, it had lasted since leaving Ayr the day before. The band were very excited about playing the Bull and Gate again, the Promoter Michael is easily the best young promoter in London, the complete polar opposite of a certain terrible promoter from a gig in our not too distant past. Yet again he made sure as many people knew about the show, that coupled with Sucioperros heavy rep pretty much guaranteed a full house. Anyone who was there will know how good a set it was, for those who couldn't be there you missed a big one, the level of excitement in the room for the duration of the set was palpable. The crowd vibed the whole way through, at one point it got a little explicit in the front row. If you can make your girl wet while standing at the front of a sucio crowd with the sound of fancy new guitars wailing and cymbals crashing, and the acidic smell of the shirts worn by the band then congrats, you are a true swordsman. After the show and the load out, we made moves for the travelodge which was located somewhere in London, it got a bit mad in there, as Dragon was the only one of us who was more than a little pissed, we decided to leave him on his own in the room while we went out for munchies, it turned out we only had to go downstairs to the vending machine, so were only away for five minutes, but in that space of time he had managed to get into his Duke get-up and scare us half to death upon re-entering the room. Being confronted with a half naked Scotsman in riding boots, trousers and zorro style mask is enough to put the fear of God in any man. The credit crunch finally hit me on the long journey back from London, and I completely ran out of cash, well, it's easier to blame the crisis than it is to blame my inability to keep money, and my addiction to spending. The credit crunch doesn't seem to have made much of a difference to my life, I still have a job, I still have money in my bank, which enables me to travel around the country with my favourite band. If that ever changes, to no fault of mine, I will drag our unelected, blind, fat, fidgety fuck of a PM to a Sucio show and watch his glass eye explode. When unelected dictators run other Countries, we kill them, so why not here? Forza Sucio.