What up m'nizzles.
Couple of quick announcements first.
1.We're (Bemis) confirmed for Saturday night at Guilfest! So far its Jimmy Cliff, Jools Holland, Tim Minchin and us. Should be good, it'll be even better if Olly Murs cancelled.
2. I only have one announcement at the moment.
Any way the title of this ramble is in reference to last nights gig.
On paper it was a bloody shambles, but somehow it was a total sucess.
We arrived to discover that the pub was hosting Jenny's 60th birthday party, several questions were raised:
1.can I play songs with swearing in them.
2.If the room is this full, why aren't we getting paid.
And 3. Who the fuck is Jenny.
As we weaved through the crowd dodging the minefield of sprigs to get to the stage, I couldn't help but notice that the 9/10ths of the tiny stage was taken up by a grand piano.
As we balanced ourself betwix piano and a wall of seated children staring at us from directly infront of the stage, We realised singing songs about prostitutes and alcoholism infront of the great wall of child care, would be frowned upon.
So..
As we rewrote out set list for the 3rd time, (to then throw it away and effectivly jam the greatest feel good hits of all time vol 1) the little sprogs started fiddling with and around the micstands and stage.
Desperately holding back the urge to punt the little fuckers so they tooled like an unsupervised coconut shy, I ended up watching them more than my bass playing. This annoyed me, this caused me to will the child to injure itself on an expensive piece of equipment so I can get a free replacement from the parent.
It was a pretty standard party gig, drunken tears asking for Rhianna and Oasis, me wishing a horrible death on said twats.
Incidentally, ladies: if your at a party or a wedding, your drunk and you want to request something from the band, listen to what they're playing and look at their appearence. Then have a think about songs in that style/genre then ... Fuck off and let the band play what they want.
Because the people (mostly women) who come upto bands pissed as a fart mid set or halfway through a song to ask for Rhrianna or oasis are not only fucking idiots but everone else in the pub is staring at you because you look like a needy prostitute. So please leave now or just sit and wait until you have to be inevitablely dragged home by two male friends for starting a fight with a bar maid.
If however you appear during the break and ask politely for a song that would suit the band we'll play it if we know it.
If your a drunk chav bloke:
kill yourself..
Eventually the Great wall of failed abortions settled down and seemed to enjoy themselves.
The prostitute was sated and danced the night away at a safe distance.
And after singing happy birthday to Jenny everyone seemed pleased.
We considered ending on wild rover but then chose to get off the stage before we were mobbed by children and prostitutes.
Ta ta
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