Doncaster Civic Wedneday Sept 8th

And so, feeling like it's only just started, our mini - tour is over. Tonight's the last show, and the really annoying thing about it is that we were just starting to properly click into that tour groove again, where everything runs smoothly, the performances are at a constantly high level, and everyone totally knows what they're doing to bring the whole thing together. The last three shows in particular have been a perfect example, with build and soundcheck times getting shorter as we tighten up the production. It's an odd one, though....on the one hand I'm not wanting it to stop as we're seeing The Bootleg's Effect again, and it's quite a heady thing to witness, but on the other hand my business head tells me these short tours aren't really cost effective, and I know I've got a lot of number-crunching to do when I get back to HQ. There's also a lot going on with various members of the tour party; Steve is about to start the stress - inducing process of moving house, Pug really IS going to Australia this time, and I'm trying to deal with some health issues which are causing problems, so in a way we DO need this to be over to concentrate on those things. The fact that we've had so many personnel changes on the crew over such a short space of time, especially with Arthur not being here for the final few shows, would normally be a cause for palm-moistening anxiety, but although the actual logistics of this haven't given us any worries whatsoever, the constant movement of people has lent a sort of temporary feel to proceedings; we haven't had the chance to get that gang mentality going, and that's helped disrupt the continuity just as much as the odd gaps we've had between shows. In short, I'm feeling a bit dischuffed today, and can't REALLY pin down why. Any free pyschoanalysis to this blog site, please..... But enough of this introspective maundering and maunging, on with the show ! Today we're at the Civic Theatre, a truly odd little building right in the middle of Donnie. From the outside it looks a bit like the big brother of those godawful prefab houses that the post-war government built for their returning heroes (" Great....Hitler tries to shoot my knackers off for five years, and as a thankyou from my country I get to live in a cardboard box with windows.....")but from the inside it's all old-school theatrical finishes and flourishes. It's long and narrow, with a decent stage and a somewhat alarmingly low roof, but it's exactly our kind of place. Like Leamington, the theatre has just reopened after a summer break, but we know before we get here that we've already more than doubled last night's paltry audience. The box office are also quite optimistic that there'll be a decent walk-up; Acker Bilk played last night, and much of the business there was walk-up, though to be honest I think that's more a case of audience prudence....I actually thought Mr Bilk was tootling Stranger On The Shore with the celestial choir these days, and was genuinely surprised to hear that not only was he still alive, but that he was still touring. He must be about 95 by now, so I guess the audience were just leaving it to the last minute, ringing the theatre just as the doors opened for the evening..." Hello, has Acker died yet ? No ? Great...I'm on me way over. I'll have two front row tickets, please... ". They're also hopeful that we'll pick up some of the people in town for the start of the St Leger meeting at Doncaster Racecourse, but having seen some of these characters around town earlier in the day I'm not so sure....at first I thought it was just a particularly big office party, as there were loads of men in suits and ties wandering around in large groups talking loudly and comparing mobiles ( it's a sad facet of 21st Century life that manhood is no longer measured by the size of your "wedding tackle" but by the number of apps you've got on your phone... ) I then thought that maybe it was a fancy dress "do", as I spotted three girls wearing clothes that sacrificed every vestige of comfort and practicality on the altar of ludicrousness. However, as I rounded a corner I came across a wine bar teeming with punters, and suddenly it clicked. It was the women who gave it away, actually. They'd obviously seen in OK and Hello magazines what the Beautiful People wear at Ascot Ladie's Day, and had put their own unique South Yorkshire spin on it. These aren't " the uppper class ", though, they're the wives and girlfriends of salesmen, and farmers, and factory owners, and car dealers, and as such are tarred with the indelible brush of their true origins. They may have the Chanel and Dior dresses and the Louboutins and Jimmy Choo's, but as they totter around on their vertiginous heels with their orange sunbed tans and their ridiculous confections of net and bead "hats" perched on their perfectly coiffed heads, you just KNOW they'll always be Sainsbury's, and never St Tropez. Still, if any of these preening hordes want to come and throw some of their winnnings at us, I'm not going to complain. Back at the theatre, it's been a record turnaround; we got here at 1pm, but by 5pm we've set everything up, soundchecked the band, and have loosed Damian upon the unsuspecting streets of Doncaster in search of fodder. Whilst impressive, there's a downside to this unexpected windfall of leisure time. In a nutshell, there's nothing happening to keep the adrenaline levels flowing, and the tiredness of the past few days starts to kick in. I'm sitting at my stage right position, intercom headphones on, all set for the show, I tip my head back to rest it on the wall.....and suddenly I realise that the odd thing which sounds like an asthmatic warthog having a particularly troublesome bowel movement is actually my snoring. I've always been pretty good at that touring / armed forces thing of napping when you can and where you can, but as I'm getting older I no longer leap into wakefulness the moment my eyes are open....it's more of a slow crawl punctuated by occasional whimpers and curses, and I'm less of a coiled spring ready for action, more of a three-toed sloth awaking from a long winter's hibernation. As such when someone asks me a question over the intercom, my reaction is " Mnnnnngnnnngng ", which at least has the effect of stunning my interrogator into puzzled silence, giving me time to drag myself back into some semblance of consciousnesss. Fortunately, before I can tumble back into dreamland again, the doors are open, and in come the audience. Rather brilliantly, right at the front there's a guy in a red satin Sgt Pepper-esque suit and slightly unconvincing wig, though I have to admit that the rest of the crowd are, shall we say, at the more mature end of our audience demographic. Hey ho. I call the house lights out, the intro video rolls, the band move into place in the dark, and then ANOTHER first happens.....the audience are actually applauding the shadowy figures onstage, quite loudly and enthusiastically, as it happens ! We're wondering if it's going to be one of those " little crowd, big reaction " nights, but to be honest the first half's all a bit...polite, I guess. Oh, they like it well enough, they laugh in the right places and sing along when asked, but apart from our red-suited and bewigged gentleman, no-one's going Radio Rental. The second half, though, as often happens,is a different matter. It must be something they put in the wine gums on sale at the foyer kiosk, but by the time we get to the combo-punch of Green Onions / On The Beach / Surfin' Safari / Mony Mony / Daydream Believer, they're not just dancing in the aisles but in front of the stage too. When the lights go up some of them come to the crew at front of the stage, some go to the two boys at the front of house mixing posiition, and some to the duty theatre staff, but they all say the same thing..." That was the best show we've had in here...when are you coming back ? ". This, ladies and gentlemen, is The Bootleg's Effect. We came, we saw, we rocked ( and, it must be said, occasionally rolled, but only when the situation demanded it ). And so on to the loadout, and a final, genuinely sad parting with our man Rupert "Pug" Jones, who will be leaving for Oz tomorrow. Pug's been with Arthur and I for a few years now, and has developed from an enthusiastic but inexperienced youngster into a good, solid engineer, popular with bands and crews alike. He works with us on pretty much everything we do, not just The Booties, and I'm really, really going to miss him. I tentatively suggest that I'll look into the cost of airfares so that we can fly him back for next year's tour, but he just smiles wryly. We may well be at the start of a new adventure with this show, but Pug's a young man and HIS new adventure is of a much more fundamental and life-changing nature. His eyes are on a much more distant horizon and he may yet decide that his entire future lies on the other side of the world. This may, quite literally, be the last time we ever see him, but whatever is ahead for him in Australia, he goes there with our love and best wishes. We also say goodbye to Ben Dorrington, who has stepped in for these past four shows as it he'd been here for ever, and who has been been his usual funny, friendly self throughout....he's off back to the world of corporate mega-shows tomorrow, muttering something about an event involveing duelling bulldozers, but our paths with definitely cross again. It's thus with something of a heavy heart that we start the drive back to Bedford to unload the kit. The end of a tour, even one as short as this, is always slightly dislocating, and it takes a few days to adjust and decompress. As often happens on last nights, we've not really had the chance to talk much to the band...they've all been round and thanked us as we were de-rigging, but they've got an even longer drive than us ahead of them and so they need to get weaving. It's odd....we often don't see Jamie, Phil and Chris at all between Booties' tours, but when we DO, everything just clicks back into place. We've spent very little time with the lads on these dates, largely due to the travelling arrangements, but already there's talk of trying to get a tour bus for at least part of next year's Spring outing, so we'd be together a lot more... now THAT will be something to look forward to! Talking of next year's tour, by the way, it will run from February 24th to April 3rd, and we'll be publishing the dates on the Bootleg Sixties website shortly. For my part I just want to say thanks again, Faithful Blogreader, for making these random musings worth writing. I've decided that I definitely want to do something different for the next tour....I'd toyed with the idea of a " talking book " kind of thing, which can apparently be added to and accessed from our website by some arcane and mystical process known only to the Grand Wizards of Thoon, but I felt it needed to be BIGGER, somehow, so I'm currently sketching our plans for "The Bootleg Sixties Tourblog...On Ice ". I think it could work, don't you ? In closing, I've been asked by a couple of people if I could publish the setlist which the band played this time out. I didn't ask them why, though I would respectfully suggest that they REALLY need to get out more, but here goes anyway. This is the tour setlist, by the way, not the Liverpool setlist...I've already eaten that one. Bye for now, and as the old cliche goes, watch this space.....

SET ONE
From Me To You
Just One Look
When You Walk In The Room
Hippy Hippy Shake
Go Now
We've Gotta Get Out Of This Place
Pretty Woman
Catch Us IF You Can
In My Room
You've Got Your Troubles /Tobacco Road / For Your Love / She's Not There
Hard Day's Night
Mr Tambourine Man
Keeep On Running
Sound Of Silence
Sunshine Superman / The Letter / Pretty Flamingo/ Sorrow / Walk Right Back
You Really Got Me
Wonderful Land
I'm A Boy
I'm A Believer

SET TWO
Blowin' In The Wind
Itchycoo Park
You Were On My Mind
Happy Together / Sunny Afternoon
Hole In My Shoe
Strawberry Fields
Light My Fire
California Dreaming
Handbags And Gladrags
The Star Spangled Banner
Pinball Wizard
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother
Green Onions
On The Beach
Surfin' USA
Mony Mony
Daydream Believer
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You'll Never Walk Alone ( Blimey...sounds like a bloody good show...must try and catch it sometime..... )

Leamington Spa Royal Spa Centre Tues Sept 7th

Just to complete the full Travelodge Experience, I spent much of the night parking my tiger in the loo, thanks, almost certainly, to a suspect chicken and mushroom pie that I had last night, so it's a somewhat less than refreshed Henderson that drags his lardy arse out to the van. The lads are all up and about and have been sampling the delights of a nearby Sainsbury's cafe, but the very idea of breakfast makes me want to blow chunks, so I pass. Pug very kindly brings me a bottle of flavoured milk to help settle my roiling innards, and despite initial doubts I give it a try. If it works, great, but if it doesn't at least the vom will be colourful.... The drive from Hereford to Leamington takes us into the countryside on our way to the M5, and it's a lovely autumn morning as we wind our way up hill and down dale, and we're thoroughly enjoying the drive...right until we suddenly run into Hi - Visibility Vest Man and his " Road Closed " sign. Bugger. Nick's behind us in his van, so we set off in convoy along the diversion signs, which, in time-honoured fashion, disappear almost immediately, leaving us deeper and deeper into Nowhereland. We decide to place our trust in Doris The Sat-Nag, who is telling us to turn left along what appears to be a donkey track, but it soon broadens out into a single cart-lane, so we know we're going in the right direction. The scenery is quite stunning, and one hilltop vista in particular looks like it's painted on the brilliant blue sky. It's all very Watership Down, but we've got a gig to get to, and the fact that we've just passed a carvan of Bedoiun traders and their camels makes us wonder if we're as close to the main road as we thought. I don't think we're in Herefordshire anymore, Toto....Fortunately we hit the road we need just a couple of miles further on, and from there it's a straight, fast run to Leamington, or Royal Leamington Spa to give it it's full name. It really is a very pretty place, all Regency grandeur and horsey ladies in pearls and twinsets, though the Royal Spa Centre itself is a modern theatre that sits a little uncomfortably in the middle of all this opulence. Having said that, it's got good facilities, a nice big stage and a helpful, friendly crew. It soon becomes clear, however, that one thing it HASN'T got is an audience for tonight's show. We were always a little nervous about this one because the theatre has just re-opened after summer refurbishment, and we are only the second show of the autumn season, so there was a fear that their promo and marketing machine wouldn't be fully geared up to these early shows. Our fears, as it transpires, are justified....they've sold a paltry seventy - two advance tickets for tonight. Now, sometimes, things like this happen and they just don't make sense. I've seen the marketing schedule the theatre has done, and it includes all the posters, flyers, mail shots, e-shots and newspaper ads we could ask for. The ads also cover Coventry, possibly our strongest area outside of home territory, so there's no rhyme nor reason why this hasn't sold, but the fact is that it hasn't. There are two ways you can go in these situations. One is to throw a righteous wobbler, blame everyone in the world and cancel the show, pissing off theatre and ticket-buyers alike, and the other is to bite the bullet, get on with it, and chalk it up to experience. I can see that the theatre's done it's bit to push the show and that they're as baffled as we are, so we go for the latter option.
As I said in a previous blog, the band have got a good attitude to this kind of situation, and they're very philosophical about it all. The show will still be as good as if we had a full house, and there'll be no slacking or shirking, so all I have to do now is tear at my clothing in despair and wonder how the buggery bollocks I can absorb the financial hit we'll take tonight. Luckily nspiration strikes. Drink heavily. I thus head to the pub with the others where I proceed to get steaming drunk and start a fight with a policeman. And his horse. On a serious note, this is a landmark we hoped we'd never reach, namely a new lowest audience attendance figure. The trick is not to let is get you down until afterwards, so though we watch somewhat disconsolately as the sparse audience drifts into the theatre, we click back into " show gear " as soon as the house lights go down. As often happens, it's never the disaster I was afraid of. For a little crowd they make their presence felt, and though some of the jokes might not get the belly-laughs they do elsewhere, this is going well....very well, in fact. Technically, it's a flawless show, and there's nothing forced about the audience's response to the band or their calls for an encore. In many ways the lads have worked even harder tonight; instead of going into their shells they've been smiling and looking like they're enjoying themselves, and Chris in particular has been something of a cheerleader over the past few shows. There's a steady stream of people telling Pug and Damian what a fantastic show it is as they file out afterwards, and as Den says, that's what this building process with the show is all about. They'll tell people who will tell people, and the next time we come here it'll be a totally different story. Next time there'll be no-one here at all......!

Hereford Courtyard Monday Sept 6th

One of the good things about the way this whole project is developing is that everyone's much more realistic about how it's growing. The fact that we had a pretty mental and virtuaqlly sold-out show last night doesn't mean that the next show will be the same, especially if we've never been there before, and so we descend on Hereford with the attitude that no matter how many people turn up tonight, they're not going to forget us and they're going to want us back. Hereford is famous for bulls, cider, popstrel Eliie Goulding and....err...that's about it, so we don't know whether it's a hotbed of classic Seventies rock, banging techno, finger-in-the-ear "Whose pigs are these " folk music or even the last outpost of The Wurzel's fanclub. What we DO know is that this is a really nice theatre with a great crew, and despite the fact that it's pissing down enough to get Noah worried for much of the day, we're enjoying the wide open spaces of the stage. Last night was so small that at times I felt like one of The Borrowers, but here we've got bags of room, and this is the kind of stage where we can really make this look like a big, grown-up rock show again. It's fine to be able to knock people out with the show in little rooms like Market Drayton and ( speak the devil's name quietly ) Boston, but to move everything on we have to be able to fill the big stages and still have the audience saying it's one of the best things they've ever seen. We're still very much breaking new ground, even after all this time....we've never been here before, so we don't know what to expect, so we just have to get in, do our jobs, and bring the message that THEY WILL SURRENDER TO US EVENTUALLY AND LOVE US MORE THAN ANY OTHER AND GIVE US ALL THEIR MONEY AND THEIR ADORATION AND THEIR VIRGINS AND EVERYTHING....Actually, I'd settle for the virgins. Just a couple. One, even....Anyway, back in the real world, the rain continues to hose down, which is not good as it pretty much kills the " walk up ", which is people who decide to come along on the night or on the spur of the moment. Faced with the choice of venturing out into the teeming rain to see a new show or to crank up the heating a notch and snuggle down in front of the old crystal bucket, sadly the Big Brothers and X Factors of this world win almost every time. No matter though...onwards and upwards,as they say. There's actually a decent crowd in tonight, as it happens, and they're clearly in the mood to be entertained, making much more noise than an audience of this size has any right to do. Where a show like this CAN fall down isn't on the songs, strangely enough, it's the bits between them. Den and Steve in particular have got some great lines, and there's nothing worse than dropping in a funny which had them rolling in the aisles last night, only to find that tonight it's greeted by total silence and tumbleweed blowing across the staqe. Den's VERY good at this, though; he's got a way of almost challenging the audience not to join in without them realising that's what he's doing. It works, quite literally, every time, and tonight's no exception. The first number where we get the audience involved is only the fourth one in, Hippy Hippy Shake, but there's no hesitation as they clap along with the lads. There's one lady of somewhat advanced years who does this weird, twisting shimmy dance throughout the whole show, and we're all loving this game old bird as she boogies along. Turns out later she didn't really WANT to keep dancing, she's just got a particularly nasty case of piles, but she's setting the standard anyway. Den has decided to reintroduce On The Beach to the end of the set as we're still getting a lot of " you don't do any Cliff " comments, and it's a great choice as it makes the last five songs a real " Sixties party ". When the band finish and leave the stage it's to genuine and full applause, and then a first happens for us...the crowd break into the " We want more ! " chant, which is as appreciated as it's unexpected. You'll Never Walk Alone leaves them still baying for more, but it's lights up, curtain down and on to the next one....they'll have us back here, no doubt, and we want to leave people talking about this show. It's a fast getout, so we all head to the local Travelodge for some much - needed sleep. Ah, yes, the Travelodge....now, I don't want this blog to turn into some kind of Lonely Planet guide to the hotels of Britain, but it would also be churlish of me to leave the experience unremarked. The first warning sign is that it's slap bang opposite the Cider Museum. This is dangerous because Tomps, normally the mild - mannered Clark Kent of our tour party, has been known to turn into Ciderman, destroying all in his path, after just one pint of Scruttock's Old Dirigible scrumpy. I make a mental note to lock him in his rooom and then spirit him away past it in the morning. The second thing that makes my nadgers curdle is Travelodge's current advertising campaign. Now, a Russian meerkat flogging car insurance I can handle, but a bunch of teddy bears coming on like East End villains urging me to " Sleep tight " just makes me want to hurt people, preferably the numpty from the advertising agency that came up with the idea in the first place. On the ads the rooms all look warm and cosy, but the one I go into boasts a cold austerity that would make a monk's cell look like a suite at The Dorchester. There's not a single picture or anything to break up the monotony of the four white, white walls, and within five minutes I'm feeling like I'm doing a ten stretch for armed robbery ( maybe THAT'S why the little bears in the ads are like thugs....). Still, it's got a bed, and I'm knackered, so I sit down on the edge of it...and am immmediately tipped backwards, where I lie scrabbling on my back with my legs in the air like an upended turtle. There's a SERIOUS dip in the middle of the bed....it must have been used by two hippos for a major shagfest or something, but I'm in it now, and don't have the strength to climb back out again, so it's goodnight from me.....bloody " Sleep tight " indeed.....

Wavendon Stables Sunday Sept 5th

Something of a local gig for many of the crew today. Wavendon is a tiny pimple on the bum of the urban sprawl that makes up Milton Keynes, a city memorably described by comedian Bill Bailey as " Satan's lay-by ", and we've worked at the Stables many times over the years with various productions. The whole shebang was started here ages ago by the late, great jazzer Johnny Dankworth and his wife Cleo Laine, and the original Stables was a stable block attached to their house ( see what they did there ? ) but this purpose - built theatre is spanky and new and smells of carpet, as opposed to horseshit, which somewhat blighted the vibe of the original place. Although the theatre is pretty small, it hosts some excellent and high profile acts, and has a fiercely loyal regular audience, known as Stablemates ( it just keeps getting better, doesn't it ? ). It's a little bit of a weird one for the Booties show as the greater part of the stage space is what's know as a thrust ( oo-er missus ) which sticks way out into the audience. It means there isn't a flat area behind the stage big enough to take all three of our screens, so we've had to fanny around hanging screens from the ceiling. Only problem is, there are no actual bars or fixtures to hang them from. Oh no. What we have instead is a mesh of metal cable which also acts as a floor which the lighting technicians can walk on when they move lights and cables around. From underneath it looks like a giant net, and when you're just walking on it, it's fine. However, when you have to lie or kneel on it when tying off the hanging bars and cables for the projector, it suddenly tskes on the properties of a cheesegrater. Clive is manfully clambering around up there, his efforts punctuated by yelps of pain and the occasional scream of actual agony, and when he finally gets back down to ground level his body has been imprinted with a fascinating tattoo of indendation marks where he's been sliced and diced by the mesh, but there's no actual blood, so that's alright then. Girl. Today is an odd one for another reason, too...Arthur and Clive are only here for the build and soundcheck, then they are jumping on a tour bus to go off on a short series of dates for Yamaha, starting in Dublin tomorrow. As such there's a bit of an " all change " feel about the show, with Pug moving to front of house engineer and our old mucker Ben Dorrington coming in on monitors. Ben has actually been on a transatlantic voyage with the Queen Mary II, so he will arrive back in Heathrow this morning, having flown in overnight from New York. No doubt he'll be as fresh as a daisy and not in the LEAST jetlagged.....Because there isn't enough space behind the stage for the screens we've had to move everything forward, and as such it's quite cramped up there. Steve's access to his drumkit is so tight we seriously consider the option of him abseiling down from the wire mesh above, and there's no way the band can get on from stage right at all, so this is going to be tres cosy, especially when Nick performs Le Danse IKEA, getting the stools on and off for the acoustic section. One REALLY good thing about tonight, though, is that it's sold very well. We know we have a good number of fans coming up from our home areas, but the Stablemates have been buying their tickets too, by the looks of it. We've done a couple of sold-out shows in the past here when we were working with Peter Green Splinter Group, so we know the intimacy of the venue can produce a great atmosphere, and the level of noise we get at the end of opener From Me To You tells us all we want to know...tonight's going to be a belter. Some nights we have some strange things happen, like the audience will respond most strongly to things like the Simon and Garfunkel song, and then they're with us all the way. Other nights it's Light My Fire that really breaks down the barriers, and sometimes we've got them from the first number. That's definitely the case tonight, and the fact that the audience are so close makes their response seem even louder and more powerful. Nick does indeed have to do an obstacle course to get the stools on and off, and we discover that one of the moving lights is actually pointing straight at a lady in the balcony ( we only really noticed when her eyebrows finally burst into flames ) but other than that it's a stonking gig. When the crowd sing back at the band on things like Sunny Afternoon and I'm A Believer it pretty much takes the roof off. In fact, it feels very much like the Marlborough gig last tour where we absolutely ripped the place up and did an unscheduled second encore for the only time on the whole jaunt. Part of me's hoping that Den will call Spirit In The Sky again, but he does the sensible thing and "leaves them wanting more ", as the showbiz maxim goes. There are loads of friends and fans wanting to speak to everyone afterwards, and everyone's totally buzzing. It's definitely going to be one that we'll talk about for a long time to come, and for all the right reasons. There might not have been any weird stuff like dive-bombing bats here tonight ( though Damian DID have a moth fly down his shirtfront ) ...it was all about the music, the band and the audience. Wavendon is now officially the Rock & Roll Capital of The Civilized Western World....

Christchurch Regent, Thursday Sept 2nd

I'm sure someone has actually been down here and moved Dorset a bit further south since last time, or maybe it was the teeth - grinding monotony of the miles and miles of roadworks on the M1 and M25, but it takes bloody AGES to get to Christchurch today, and the carload of crew types arrive a full thirty minutes after Arthur and Nick have pulled up in the two gear vehicles. It's an absolutely glorious South Coast day, but we've no time to appreciate it as we're straight out of the car and into the load-in. The Regent is one of those curious little theatres that you find tucked away in various provincial towns around the UK, fronting onto the main street but with a modest facade that you almost miss as you drive by. Haverhill Arts Centre and Chatham Central Hall are very similar, but inside the Regent it's a totally different ballgame as the place has this lovely, faded art - deco vibe. It's fun, funky and exactly the kind of place we enjoy playing. The load -in is a BIT of a bugger, as they've got this big, grown - up scene dock at a height of about 4' from the ground, all tricked out and ready for the ramps or tail-lifts of the big trucks that will back up to it. However, it's way too lofty for our two Mercedes Sprinter vans, so we're faced with the option of either humping things in from floor level or rolling it up a mental switchback disabled access ramp that wouldn't look out of place as a ride on a local pleasure beach. The local crew lads are very helpful, though, and in the case of stage manager Sean, a laid - back and luxuriantly - ringletted rocker, they're also expert tea makers. Cold drinks are fine in hot weather, but sometimes a good brew will cool you down just as effectively, and boy do we NEED cooling down.....despite the fact that the scene dock shutter door is kept open until the last minute to allow some breeze across the stage, within minutes of our arrival we're sweating bullets, and Pug in particular looks like someone's just upended a bucket of water over him ( mind you, he breaks into a sweat just lighting a cigarette, so that's not really saying anything.....). The stage is also a bit narrow and cramped but we get sorted with the minimum of cursing and flouncing. The band all arrive without mishap or delay, and the soundcheck is dispatched with such elan that we've got nearly an hour and a half before doors, so I make a play for Damian's Food God title and trot out in search of comestibles, returning successfully with...yep, you guessed it...fish and chips
( actually I almost fell over the bloody place as it was virtually next door to the theatre, so I don't think Damian's got anything to fear from me ). It's such a lovely evening that I suggest we dine al fresco " Nah " replies some wag, I'm going to eat mine outside instead ". Foolish boy. We dutifully troop out and have one of those lovely little tour bonding moments as all eleven of us, plus Den's lad-ling William, sit chatting and eating outside the theatre in the gorgeous Dorset sunshine, seagulls wheeling overhead. Despite the idyllic setting I'm keeping a wary eye on the birds; I've seen these winged muggers on You've Been Framed as they filch grub out the very hands of unsuspecting tourists, and despite the fact that it would take a veritable Schwarzenegger of the avian world to part ME from my food, I'm not going to give them the slightest opportunity. Eventually it's time to head back inside, and as the doors open we realise it's not going to be that large a crowd tonight.In the past this has worked both ways for us; early in the last tour we had a couple of quiet shows and it seemed to hobble the band in some way, so that they played very much within themselves. On other nights it made for a more intimate connection, though, and a couple of the best shows we did were to smaller audiences. Pleasingly, tonight is very much the latter. This is a really enthusiastic crowd, vocally boosted and prompted by our perennial front - row stormtroopers Marilyn and Debs, and it's one of those nights when you just KNOW it's going to be good. When this band is put onto a small stage these days, we don't get hissy fits or diva strops about not having room to express themselves or some such cobblers, what we get instead is a kind of raw, undistilled intensity that really does prove irresistible to audiences. Add Arthur's sonic genius and the lights and projections to the mix and you've suddenly got something that seems way too big a fit for it's surroundings. It's not a case of arrogance; we KNOW this is a great show, and when you squeeze it into somewhere like the Regent it's phenomenal. Tonight is a perfect example of The Bootleg's Effect, and the fulsome praise heaped on us by the house staff coupled with the post-show e-mails from audience members just reinforce our resolve that we're on the right track with this, and that it's just a matter of time before we're stepping up to a different level. Tonight is also a FUN show; Steve's enjoying himself so much he corpses just as he's about to start his vocal for " In My Room " and everyone's relaxed and joking. Things are helped along by the sudden appearance onstage of a bat, clearly shaken from his slumber in the upper reaches of the theatre's roof by the sturm und drang of the band's playing. For a few numbers he zooms around the hall, even swooping down to buzz the band a couple of times. Some of the female audience members seem a little discomfited, but Chris deadpans reassurance, " Don't worry, it's just a special effect " he tells them. I know we sometimes say that our show features special guests, but this really IS a first..... Fortunately our little Pipistrelle friend ( later christened Eric The Bat by Marilyn and Debs for reasons known only to themselves ) soon disappears from sight, and we reason that he's either found a way out or much more likely, the sound from the PA has so seriously shagged his inbuilt radar that he's flown headfirst into a wall somewhere. Whatever the reason, the band are left unencumbered to rampage towards the end of another hugely successful show, marred only by my substituting two of the theatrical flashes ( you know, the ones with the " loud report " ) for two dodgy silver jets, and then forgetting to warn the band. It earns me a Paddington Bear Flat Stare from Den and poor Steve has to change his undercrackers AGAIN, but it's just a blip on another belting night for us all. These are the kind of gigs when you know you're getting it all right, and when the venue, the crowd and the local crew are as good as they are here, it's just so, so satisfying. It even takes the edge off a slow and arduous load-out, and will bolster us for the long drive home. We'll DEFINITELY come back here again. As we pull away I bid farewell to the Regent, and just as we drive past the load door I see a small bat swoop down. I can't be sure from this distance, but it looks like he's wearing a little bandage round his head.....

Bromsgrove Artrix Wed Sept 1st

After the sheer blast of splendiferousness that was Liverpool, there was always going to be an element of " after the Lord Mayor's show " about the first gig after it. That show happens to be in sunny Bromsgrove ( actually VERY sunny, and gusset-moisteningly hot, too ) at a new theatre called Artrix ( I always thought he was Obelix's mate in the cartoon strip, but there you go ). Arthur's flown back in from a couple of days break back on Fuertaventura, and having recharged our batteries a bit we're looking forward to rejoining the fray as we motor down the M6 onto the M5, eventually finding ourselves in the sun - drenched car park of the theatre. Tomps is back on the tour from now until the end as Clive is off doing things like being a squire to the Barron Knights, so we're planning to have a bit of a chinwag with Den when he arrives, just to make sure all the visual elements of the show are totally nailed. Our plans are soon to be kicked into touch, however, as we get a call from Nick saying that a truck has overturned on the M42, and as a result he's stuck in stationary traffic...has been for the past half hour, in fact. As all our gear is spread across two vehicles, this is going to be a bit of an arsebiscuit....we've got the PA system with us but Nick's carrying the moving lights, which really should go in early, as well as our white backdrop, which really should go in first. We can build all the stuff we're carrying on OUR van, but then we're going to have to shoehorn all of Nick's gear in around it when he gets here, and that's the kind of palaver that just makes you break out in funbumps. A couple of calls later and it becomes clear that Nick, sitting in a sweltering stew of stationary vehicles, really isn't going to be getting here any time soon, so we bite the bullet and start setting up. We then realise that there's a very good chance the band are also stuck in the very same traffic, and a couple of phone calls proves this to be the case. The portents are not good. It's actually 3.30 by the time Nick finally pulls up, hot, stressed, and with a face like thunder. " Nice trip ?" I venture playfully.
" GRRRRRAAAAHHHNNNGGGRR" he replies, gnawing on my forearm. Not happy, then.....As it transpires, his late arrival isn't anywhere near as much of a nutcracker as we'd feared, and we get sorted relatively quickly, but the delay to the band themselves is giving us a headache now, not only because we're running out of soundcheck time but also because Den's got a revised show disk coming with him, and we need to get it into the computer, checked and readied. I'm expecting a stream of vented frsutration and invective, but when they finally DO arrive, the band are surprisingly chilled, and my forearms remain unsullied. Arthur and Tomps sort out the show visuals with Den and then we belt through a truncated soundcheck, but it doesn't feel hurried or stressful....in fact it has the slickness of a piece of well-oiled machinery, and it's another one of those moments where you think " We're all actually quite good at this, aren't we ? " There's even time to send our chief hunter-gatherer Damian and Pug out into the sun - dappled evening charged with the task of finding sustenance for the crew that doesn't come in a wrapper marked " Cadbury's ". He's a skilled fodder tracker, is our Damian...despite weighing about three and a half stone wringing wet and being so skinny that he virtually disappears when he turns sideways, he clearly has a fearsomely fast metabolism as he he can pack away his tucker with all the speed and panache of a big fat bastard like my good self. He's the kind of bloke who could find a KFC in the middle of the Kalahari desert, so the task of securing several portions of excellent fish and chips on a Wednesday night in Bromsgrove is almost unworthy of his talents. Nonethless, in what seems like no time at all we're chowing down backstage, making so many little involuntary moans of pleasure that it sounds uncomfortably like the set of a soft porn movie. There really IS nothing ike a good infusion of lard to set you up for a gig... The band are back to the " tour show " tonight after the diversifications of Liverpool, and within seconds of the opening " From Me To You " Tomps tells me over the intercom " Ah, this takes me right back to March ! " as he happily flies in the film footage, and I realise once again that yes, we ARE all good at this, band and crew alike. We blew away a few cobwebs in Whitley Bay but from then on in everyone's just dropped right back into the touring groove from five months ago. There aren't many set changes from last time....Happy Together and Sunny Afternoon have become a joyous medley instead of two separate numbers... there's no " On The Beach " and " Surfin' Safari " is back, but the pace and the power are still potent, and tonight we have a good - sized and vocal audience to bounce off. In fact, the whole show is pretty flawless; there are the usual couple of little technical niggles that we'll talk about in the car on the way back tonight, but by and large it's been a lovely, easy show considering all the transport nightmares that went on earlier and which could have seriously derailed things. It's nights like these when I can almost sit back and enjoy the band and the show rather than work on it, and I know that this is the " zone " the band are so good at getting into; it's smooth confidence without complacency, and it's this as much as anything else that's going to stand us in good stead over what will hopefully be many years of touring this show. More like this one, please.....!