Bad Gigs

The wind howled in the chimney and the rain battered against the window-panes like a hail of buckshot. We were all - all being me,  Geoffrey,  Dave Nark, Tuppence and Alexa - sitting round the fire, chatting about old times, as you do on nights like that.    I was not feeling all that terrific so was covertly chewing on an opium tabloid just to take the edge off.  Others were enjoying a nice cup of tea and a ginger biscuit.  Dave Nark was rolling himself a cigarette.   Val doesn't allow him to smoke unless it's organic herbs so he comes round to ours to do it. 

'What's the worst gig you've ever been to Alexa?'  asked Tuppence.

'It was that night you played the Puff Inn and your Uncle Tuppy dropped his pint on the keyboard of your Moog and the electrics exploded and set the place on fire razing it to the ground.   We were all evacuated on to the moors and it was dark and freezing and I'd left my jacket behind and I was desperate for the toilet but I didn't want to go outside because there were too many people about.  I'm surprised you even had to ask.'

'Oh yes!  All those stolen barrels of 100% proof brandy in Stormy's cellar went up like nitro-glycerine and flames shot out of the hole-end of the tunnels at the cliffs.  It was quite a dramatic display.  But to me,  you see, that was a great end to a gig.  You're never going to get that again.'

Dave lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply.  'I had some cracking gigs when I was the drummer with the Minds,' he began.

'More tea, anyone?' Geoffrey glanced at me in a significant manner.  We didn't want Dave starting up about gigs with the Minds.  It never ended well.  He'd end up morose and ranting about Jim Kerr again.

'We're not talking about cracking gigs tonight Dave, OK?  We're talking about bad ones.  I have to say Bo Diddley was pretty crap.  He arrived on stage five hours late.  The support band played their set three times over and everyone was very drunk.  Someone was sick into their shoes right in front of me.'

'What about Jack Bruce?' said Geoffrey. 'That was epically bad.  We tried to get out but we couldn't manage to open the door.  We thought we were locked in but thankfully it was only stiff.  We escaped and went for chips.  We needed the sustenance after that nightmare.'

'Dr John though Geoffrey.  Remember?' I enthused.  'He was okay but the people dancing right in front of us waving their arms in a faux-artistic manner ruined the whole experience.'

'I hate artistic people,' said Tuppence.  'They're always annoying.'

'That's because you're a Nazi Tuppence,' said Dave. 'Don't bother to deny it, we all know.  Personally,  I like artists.  I like to think I'm kind of an artist myself, with my wildlife vids.'

'Your wildlife vids are brilliant Dave,' said Alexa, patting Dave's knee.  Dave blushed and looked pleased.  Geoffrey and I exchanged looks.  'Brilliant' was going it a bit strong.  Grey and fuzzy with strange unidentifiable sasquatch-like creatures roaming around in the dark with glaring eyes was more like it.   But we wouldn't offend Dave by saying so.   

Next time - Dave gets confused about Alexa patting his knee.  Could she really be interested in an older man?  or, was she just after a cleaning job in the yurts?  It didn't occur to him that neither might be the case.