From the outside the venue looks like a tired old working mans club, ragged Union Jacks at the windows with pebble dash concrete walls like you get in posh council housing. Truth is it's nothing but a classy indie pop club in disguise. It certainly had Craig and I fooled. How wrong can you be. As soon as we walk in the vibe is anything but hostile, bright and breezy even, Chris would be happy here. These people know what's what and are friendly and helpful. The gig doubles as a retro clothing emporium which is seriously impressive stuff; I kid you not there are racks of kitsch hand me downs stylishly placed upon several well appointed clothes rails in the corner and the stall owner wears a customised leather bomber jacket that started out life as a German trench coat. He's a dab hand with the old needle and perfectly charming. This is what you might call a good start to the evening. Soon after the sound check I’m dressing up [in mens clothes this time] and on the verge of a commitment to purchase much encouraged by the band, so should I or should I not…of course I procrastinate pathetically and pull out of the deal at the last minute, get fussy and go back to square. Jacketless in Yorkshire. Yes I know it looks OK but really it’s a fraction too small and there’s a hole the size of a fist I just spotted under the left arm. Thinking about it now I’m still a bit disappointed with myself for not just buying it, jacket, leather, tan, 70’s. I've had similar regrets with works of art and guitars. Then the rest of our travelling circus engages in more sartorial poesy; again no one commits, which is a right shame really. I really wanted to support the principle as I'm so very taken with the idea of venues as shops and then it’s time to change the subject. Manchester night it is then, billed as such, here in south Yorks, that bit I do remember from the posters. There are three bands on, all from round our way, we headline and then it’s DJ Head Bone Time. That’s when Bonehead does his DJ thing although tonight I will miss most of it. The Bone trick is to know exactly when to play Rock n Roll Star; that one always seems to get the masses a-massing. I am, it must be siad, in several minds about it and most of them have questions attached. And then finally our gig runs away with itself and we’re pleasantly surprised to see the sell out crowd paying attention; unlike the Sunderland debacle which was all people and no persona. We pull it off like a sexual pun that practically nobody gets. After the show I do grade A list conversation with a few people who seem taken with the idea of listening to the songs, although they seem to be in the minority. If am reminded of the old adage ‘the consolation prize is sometimes better than the jackpot’, which is of course complete and utter rubbish. If I were my own teacher I’d give myself six out of ten and see myself afterwards in the library or heaven forbid - the gym. VP x
Lost weekenders... 
Pretty... 
Bass debut... 
Beatles... no really? 
Dracula... 
Dracula... 
