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spot the part here that suggests to me the writer didn’t stay for the whole show, or even didn’t attend at all.
http://music.guardian.co.uk/live/story/0,,2113008,00.html”>http://music.guardian.co.uk/live/story/ … 08,00.html
i think you mean david boon. he consumed 50 cans of lager on a flight from australia to uk in the 80’s!
it’s perfectly simple. we invent a game, are good at it for a while, and then the f@@king Australians come along and ruin it by being much better than us. Bucky – that’s brilliant – what a record to set. Still, at least you expected nothing. Our wondeful media build us up as potential winners, only to slaughter the team when we narrowly avoid defeat to Ireland.
Our shining moment of glory so far was after the defeat to new zealand, our vice-captain (Andrew Flintoff, nickname Freddy as in Flintstone) got utterly arseholed on booze, and stayed up until 4am, then stole a pedalo and made a break for it. He fell off 100 metres into the sea and almost drowned. Still, there’s one thing that us English still excell at, hic!
Hi Empire
You’re joking!!?? I bought that shit excuse for a rag for years and they were never, ever acknowledged. Too obsessed with Shed 7, Gene and Oasis (shudders)
let’s face it, Thalia never looked good even in her prime. assuming she had one. meeting one’s heroes is almost always the biggest anticlimax.
was good to meet you last night pal.
thought mascis treated it with the disdain that was due, a bunch of industry back slappers on a freebie. he was amazing, but really seemed that he didn’t want to be there (even more than normal).
spent about three hours trying to bribe my way in until some MTV type allowed me her "+1". i love this little venue though, and had a great time, it must be very hard trying to be enthusiastic when you know that half the people there have no idea who you are or are there to enjoy the music.
saying that, i was terribly drunk and may have imagined it. whilst waiting outside my friend and i wandered (by mistake) into some private party, partook in some free beers and tried in vain to get involved with the buffet.
i then got the wrong bus (BUS! That’s how drunk I was) home and ended up completely lost.
top night.
ignore everything above.
it’s my last night in dallas and i have gained 540 lbs. if one were to cut me, i would bleed guacamole and sour cream.
i am off to my office christmas party, then heading back to ole blighty, then off to the Alps for a week’s snowboarding.
i’ve actually enjoyed my stay far more than anticipated, and have been made to feel very welcome.
the jukeboxes here are fantastic, plenty of dino, modest mouse, breeders etc. my sightseeing alas has mainly consisted of sports bars.
there is a karaoke bit at our party tonight, and the theme is Texas Chic (oxymoronic if ever I heard…) I am covering myself in the world’s largest tortilla, smothering my face in salsa and going as a hot burrito.
adieu mes amis. jusqu’a la fois prochaine. is fois feminine? it feels like it should be.
