28 April 2005

The Innocents Were Spared

They survived, they live. Yes, even though I did have rather a lot to drink last night, I dragged myself from my pit at the ungodly hour of nine o'clock, put on a suit - you have to look smart for these occasions, it's about giving an air of authority - and accompanied the beaming demons down the hill to the church hall.
There were quite a few parents there, although I was the only male. They made quite a big point of my being the only dad, as though, this was in some way more significant. Reinforcing archaic male stereotypes perhaps, but it made me feel good. I bet none of the mum's drank twice their body weight in Guinness, or smoked twenty billion fags and sustained their fragile constitutions with saveloy and chips, consumed on the late train.
I have a gig this weekend which I am very much regretting agreeing to. The weather looks promising, so a jaunt to the country side would have been far nicer. To frolic in a bluebell wood. Instead, I'll be getting mixed up in May day riots, roast dinners and no doubt stronger substances. I have been summoned to The Colony Room to give a saw recital - with the World Champion Spoons player - I kid you not, so mayday for me, may be just that - an appeal for emergency assistance.
Some of you might have seen my column in the NME this week. Reasonably amusing, but unlikely to propel me to the front lines of teen pop stardom. In fact, I think I'll write them an angry letter, demanding to know what they think they're playing at, devoting column inches to an old git like me? Really, it's an outrage. That space could have been given to Razorlight or The Brentford Nylons.
Oh well, hey ho. Got to nip out now. As the Ramones almost said once.


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