Blah, it’s been a week or two since I wrote in here. So, away we go!
A week last Wednesday I travelled to Mancland to watch Bright Eyes with the newly married Nicky-boy Taylor. Bright Eyes were another of these bands that I’d heard a lot about but never actually heard any of their material. They were quite good –well Conor Oberst was- but I guess the fact that I’d only had two days to acquaint myself with their material didn’t make it as interesting as it seemed to others.
My main concern was the sheer heat in Manchester Academy 2. It was a fucking furnace, and it took 6 or 7 cans of Red Stripe to cool me down. The dehydrating double header of sweating loads and alcohol caused my piss the day after to assume a rather pleasing deep-gold colour. Er...
Last Saturday we had a more convential, yet enjoyable night out. We all piled down to T’warehouse via Roper Hall and jumped around a bit. Johnny H made me an embrace T-shirt, which is really cool, the members of the band being drawn as Lego men. Aces.
It’s nice when everybody gets on and there isn’t a seething undercurrent between people, it was fun, I enjoyed it....well, I enjoyed it all bar the time when I found myself dancing on my own when everybody had deserted me for booze, toilets or cooling ceiling fans. Poor Glenn.
Then as usual it took us two hours to make it home whilst:
- Dave and Paul had a wrestle
- The rest of us went to investigate
- Johnny H tackled Paul to the ground causing snapping noise to be emitted.
- I carry Paul some of the way home, trying to avoid Liam knocking us over for fun.
- Liam helps me carry Paul and tries to run him bollock-first into a bollard.
- Stop for pizza and to play a spot the difference game (far harder when pissed).
- Become involved in a childish, drunken “push people in the bush” game which at one stage may have appeared to passers by to consist of three men and a lady destroying some neat bushes by lying in them.
The day after involved sitting in the A&E department of casualty waiting for Paul to have his ankle checked out. It just seemed to be bruising; there were some –well one in particular- spectacular shitizens of this country sharing A&E with us last Sunday.
24 ended. That was great, like series 1, it was far-fetched slightly surreal madness but all the more fun for it. Teachers has just started again so there’s still at least one other program on TV worth tuning in for.
On Tuesday we went to watch Fleetwood play Liverpool. Years ago, Fleetwood would fairly regularly play one of the bigger teams in the country at pre-season friendlies. This would always be against the top clubs youth team, there would usually be one or two who’d make it as a professional, but as a fan I’d feel a bit disappointed that none of my favourites had turned up to play my home town. Well, the Liverpool team on Tuesday consisted of over a dozen of the first-team squad, including the African player of the year and six or seven full internationals. Considering they were playing against a team containing two guys I went to school with whom at that age where of a similar footballing standard as I, I became concerned of a massacre. It was 6-1 to Liverpool.
That may sound bad, the gulf in class was huge but the game was played in a friendly spirit and Liverpool took it easy on us. It was great, all credit to Gerard Houllier for sending such a good side just six days before the season starts.
I personally clapped every goal, people asked me who I wanted to win but how do I choose between my home town team and the club I’ve adored since I was 3 or 4 years old? It’s not like there will ever be a serious conflict of interests there, it was just a lovely evening.
One thing that did annoy me was the “tangerine bastards” trying to hijack the night. It was bad enough knowing that Fleetwood people couldn’t get tickets when there were Blackpool people there, without having them announcing Blackpool scores over the tannoy. Blackpool has always hated any sort of interest in Fleetwood, and has usually tried to subdue it or get involved themselves. Twats!
Anyway, last night we raced down to Birmingham after work to see my doppelganger Tim Burgess. He looks like me more and more every time I see him*. I didn’t know what to expect, everything I’d read made me believe it would sound nothing like the charlatans. I guess it didn’t really but it certainly wasn’t the countrified gubbins that I had been expecting. I thought it was excellent, really immediate and uplifting. I’ll order his debut solo CD on CD-wow tonight (plus approx. Another 100 poundees worth of other stuff, whee-hee-hee).

* Yes, I know this is a lie.