Tour again again again

13. Cambridge at the Graduate was always going to be a home coming for me and it turned out to be a really special night. For one thing, the venue is an old bar fly and so the sound and stage were both excellent. To add to this, nearly everyone I have ever met in Cambridge seemed to have come down to watch, and as soon as the gig started everyone was chanting my name and or other embarrassing things. This got the whole crowd going, and despite technical problems, we played a really great set feeding off the affection. The shouting wasn’t hugely original, mind, the chant “keyboard, keyboard” (after I had played the keyboard) didn’t really show off the intellectual capabilities of the people in attendance to the full... but it really was amazing to have such good friends come down and support me doing what I do.

14. The next day, after a poor night’s sleep, we made the huge journey to Belfast. We had driven a couple of hours the night before (where I had had a chocolate donut and the others had had something a little stronger), but we still had to drive to Northern Scotland, get the ferry from there to Belfast, and then get to the gig for a sound check. It took hours, and I felt awful by the end of it, empty and asleep. I tried to conserve energy so as to be able to do justice to the intimacy of the venue, Auntie Annie’s. Our Irish gig’s are very much different to our English one’s - no one knows us here - and that makes for a more interesting event. Despite the trials of the day’s travel, all in all we played a quiet respectful set to a quiet respectful crowd. They laughed at the line in Wayne Rooney “The barman looks like George Best, many of them do” -that was nice.

15. Another long drive took us through the Irish wastelands - areas dotted only by the tracks of horses and the unsettling of wind - and on through to Galway. Feeling tired and slow we arrived at the venue with little time to spare and to a bit of a surprise. The Roisin Dubh, an incredible pub with dust falling from old books and the smell of a fire purveying, was also set to play host to a sold out Richard Hawley gig the very same night (with Vincent Vincent and the Villains in support). We were to play then in the small cove upstairs and, as we were on at the same time as the main act, the promoter had decided to make it free entry. With these constraints provided we decided to take the opportunity to make it a completely different gig experience. We stripped down the drums to a floor, kick and snare only, and played a really intimate almost acoustic set. There were about ten to fifteen people intently listening (including Vincent Vincent and the Villains) and our harmonies were really spot on and electrifying. All who were there really enjoyed it, I reckon, and certainly were really kind to us about it (Vincent Vincent and the boys being really complimentary). After the gig we relaxed into a few Guiness’ with the other band, caught a bit of Richard Hawley’s set and slept well till the morning.

16. Cork at The Cypress Avenue was a return to the norm with a big stage and a big sound. The audience once again modest, however, though the longer we played the more the place filled up. For the second time in a row another gig had been booked for the same venue. This time, The Dykenes - an impossibly loud Scottish haircut outfit - were booked to play the same stage as us at around 12ish. After finishing our set though we fucked off because we weren't too bothered about catching their set.. As for ours, well, it was a real tired performance, even if the people watching seemed to like it. Most notably that day was, in fact, the blessing of having a really excellent fact dinner before the gig, paid for by Sam’s dad (visiting for the day). Memorable for the wrong reasons was the fact that in the evening we stayed in a prison like dorm sleeping all 6 of us. None, of course, got any sleep. Thanks Beach.

17. Our final gig was in Dublin at the Crawdaddy and went well. To be honest we all got so drunk afterwards that I can’t really remember much of what happened. Here though are some highlights of the ensuing chaos: Chris got so drunk he poured a pint of Guinness all over Joe (Adam then poured some of his over Chris, to which Chris tried to retaliate by pouring another pint over Adam but once again hit Joe), Adam licked Joe’s face as he was trying to get it on with a girl (she then disappeared), Adam swallowed a key, Chris called every girl he could see a slag and pushed me into every girl he couldn’t see, Chris shouted “Edamame” and “Tin of Juice” so loudly in the club we were in that it actually hurt people, Johnny sloped off to a palatal environment with a friend, Sam and I nearly let an Irish rebel get in our taxi (the driver of which, Emmanual, told us that his name was also the name of “she of the first porno”), Chris went back to where Johnny was staying and so the next day we nearly missed the ferry, Chris mistakenly left one thousand pounds in cash in the hotel room (which we quite thankfully retrieved).

Final thoughts of the tour: Shiting hell fun, shitting hell tired.