After a couple of weeks off we’re back with a vengeance at The Cellar. The band played around 120 shows last year - and we were sick of the sight of each other. By half past ten it’s like we’ve never been away.
We headlined a show where we had 18 support acts. None of them knew who we were and while we were waiting to go on I thought I saw someone sniggering at the washboard. “Play fucking hard!” I screamed at Bones our drummer, who has been coerced into playing washboard for the night. He duly responded.
The gig is absolutely mayhem. Muggsy berates me on stage for talking too much between numbers and I threaten to remove his trousers. Fifteen minutes later I have wrestled him to the ground but I just cannot get his trousers off. It’s the braces! I have another go, to no avail. He refuses to get up off the floor - and turns in his best solo of the night. Please bear in mind throughout this that we are a Trad Jazz Band playing in front of 200 screaming, sweating, drunken teenagers, and they are going MAD for it. It’s a great gig, but it does have its problems.
I have other problems to deal with as I am leaving the venue. Problem number one is a man who wants to dress up as a giant white rabbit and run onstage during our next gig - and won’t take “no” for an answer. He has now began to insist that it was my idea for him to dress up as a rabbit. Furthermore, he wants us to pay for the rabbit suit, plus the £100 deposit in case it gets “spoiled” . I told him to go ask Alice and piss off.
Problem number two is the text message I receive from the man who wants us to play at his pub, where there is going to be a buffet. Are you fucking sick in the mind? Have you ever seen our show? It is completely inappropriate and we’re not doing it. "Oh what’s wrong - got a BETTER offer?" Absolutely not, but we DON’T PLAY FUCKING BUFFETS! If I get any more nasty txt msgs from him I am going 2 come down 2 yr pub l8r and burn it down.