Blackpool, day 3 and pull down.

'HWell it pissed down all bloody day! Just getting from the digs to the theatre drenched me. And yet it phased no one here. All rides (which were in ear-shot of the theatre) we're operating with the usual screams associated with them. I suppose you have to admire the northern spirit that come rain or shine, their appetite for tat and the tacky never goes unquashed. 

The meeting was conducted with a sense of "well done yesterday but it's not right yet" and I could hear a frustration in Haze's tone. 

The band rehearsed a new band call theme and drum solo section. For those who aren't in the know, this is the section of the show were the band is introduced. We go under the name of The Interceptors from Hell. 

(Yeah, me too!)

We vamp on a riff and in turn after a personal intro, we take 2 bars to play something solo. The band call on this occasion was the moog section of Rush's Tom Sawyer. So fitting with that I though the drum break in it would suit for the drum section. Rehearsed and agreed, we'd give it a go come show time. 

The idea is to have a selection bag if you will, of different ones so we can mix it up after every few shows. Other ones include the main riff for Enter Sandman, the main riff for The attitude song, and the rainbow theme tune. 

Metallica

Steve Vai

Rainbow

(Okay, not rainbow) 

The first show went without incident but certain filters were put into place to make it more palatable, shall we say, for kiddies as it was a matinee. Mainly dumbing down on swearing and the parading of Danny's nether regions. So where we would normally say, "if you're at all offended by this [swearing and video close ups of cock and balls] please FUCK OFF NOW!!!" It was changed too, "if you're at all offended by this, then please buzz off you flipping nincompoops!" Or something along them lines. The said cock and bollocks were suitably covered up by a pair of black Y-fronts. And the tits, a bra. 

Booooooooo!

To the bra thing! Not the cock and balls thing. If I never saw that cock and balls again it would be too soon. The tits on these occasions were not Zoe's but a girl called Katy. Not quite sure the deal here but I know she made appearance on the Dorset Steam fair when the more scaled down version of the show called The carnival of the bizarre, played there in the summer. She did it as work experience so I am told. Personally I did mine in Burtons. So times have changed. Katy is a dancer by trade and is between jobs.

Blow jobs! 

(joke, couldn't resist... Sorry) 

She seemed pleasant enough from the few words I spoke to her. 

Second show was also good and these said filters were lifted, so out came the tits, cock and balls again. Yey! 

My drum kit in Blackpool. 

Then it was time for pull down. I was expecting it to go slow, and although we were still to find our rhythm to it, it's getting faster. It's like a huge jigsaw puzzle where the pieces are about a hundred flight cases of various sizes and weights, props of various sizes weights and shapes and other assorted bits and bobs. It's a fucking cock and ball ache and no messing (there I go with the cock and balls again!!) Juma and DA have an active role in this more so than anyone but from Monday, Sean is back who's a truck driver, knife thrower and as an old circus boy as they come. Hopefully he'll get us all kicking packing-the-lorrys-ass as we need. 

I drove Haze, a friend of his called Basher and Steph, back to Preston where they were staying that night, and got back to Blackpool about an hour after. After being blown about the motorway, I got in, grabbed my vodka and coke and went to meet up with the band who had congegated in Zoe's room. 

I went to bed around 3:30 pissed again.

The next day, the mother of all journey days ensued. I'll be brief by saying Blackpool to Croydon via Wimbledon and dropping Professor off wherever he lives (between Wimbledon and Croydon) took 8.5 hours. This was largely thanks to fuckloads of Sunday traffic jams (caused by accidents) piss breaks, a fuel break, London traffic (caused by... Well, London) and me not having any charge in my phone at all to navigate to the Travelodge so LOTS of getting lost in Croydon (and swearing like a trooper) trying one road, then the other, was what I had to do to eventually find where I could park the van. 

By this time I was alone too so I had no one to ask to help with their phone. 

We left Blackpool at 10:30, I got in the travelodge in Croydon at 7:30. But I did have a room to myself!

So I engaged in a serious session of self-abuse before watching an amazing documentary about the making of Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here album. 

(The self abuse bit was a joke! No one likes to admit they're a wanker do they?)