I was pretty sure the White Room was over 18. Chances are it is, it’s a perfectly nice bar and café by day, but it does have a sex toy vending machine upstairs. But my first encounter with the Cluny (I got in…I’ve never been turned away from there but that one was close) has made me a little wary of over-18 venues. I was going to wear my polka dot top, but wisely thought no, let’s not. So I changed it for a plain black t-shirt that looked better.
Until I started squeezing my foundation tube and SHIT, it splattered all over my tits. Which were wearing the black T-shirt.
My only backup? The polka dot top.
Let’s get you acquainted with said top. You might not have seen me in it. It is LOW. And black. I have one decent bra that could go with it, which is a tad…um…small. Only a bit, mind. But still, it’s a bit attention-attracting. My tits are not small.
I was still worrying about getting in as we walked in the door (followed by DARTZ!…OK, that’s a lie, they didn’t follow me, I held the door for them), but as I turned to face the people taking money it was obvious they didn’t give a shit. They just wanted to see the bands as much as we did. And I instantly felt like a twat.
It was a bit weird though, they tried to shoo us in thinking we were with DARTZ!. Hannah (paying) set them right and insisted they took the money. Ace.
It got weirder, my brother’s best mate from years ago was having a long in-depth conversation with Peter Brewis. We just sat down and I tried not to turn into a melting squealing fangirl when Phil from DARTZ! stood right in front of me, with his arse at my face level. And when I say right in front of me, I mean my face was literally a couple of inches from his arse.
Um…it’s a nice arse, in my defence.
I can’t remember the first band’s name. One of their keyboard players could dance like few things I’ve ever seen. Alan from the Rakes is the obvious exception. Legend.
The second was B>E>A>K, the origins of which became obvious when they went up to play wearing bird masks. They’d be alright to dance to, but I wasn’t in the most dancing mood.
The third was Hot Club de Paris. What legends…they opened with a song ‘Welcome to the Hot Club de Paris’, which had no instruments in it (good thing they’re all good singers then…they couldn’t do that in a big venue) and had them doing shadow puppets on the backdrop. I held the bass for another song they did without instruments, and bloody hell, it was heavy. And that song finished with ‘I love you…but not as much…as I love myself…’ Their set finished (why am I concentrating on endings?) with the best song title I’ve ever heard ‘Sometimes It’s Better Not To Stick Bits Of Each Other In Each Other For Each Other’. Well, I like it. Legend.
DARTZ! were last. They covered all their best songs (Once, Twice, Again!, Fantastic Appa-rah-tus, Prego Triangolos, Laser Eyes…you know the drill), finished, as ever, with Teaching Me To Dance, which I was pleased to see had the saxophone (apparently their old saxophonist, !, got too unreliable…) and, of course, the cowbell (played by Jeff…weirder and weirder, I tell thee…). And they even played an encore…consisting solely of a thrown-together X-Ray Bex.
We even talked to them a bit afterwards…of all of them to recognise us, it was Phil who said hi when we approached. See? Fangirl.
But…throughout the gig, I had just one fault…I KNOW THE BRA ISN’T PARTICULARLY SUPPORTIVE AND THERE MAY BE A LITTLE BIT A LOT OF BOUNCE WHEN I DANCE, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE TO STARE DOWN MY TOP FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM, IT BECOMES OBVIOUS WHEN YOU COME TO STAND NEXT TO ME.
And breathe.
I also got perved by a charv on the way home. I get perved a lot. But this one was pretty awful. Fortunately Emma Chapman’s boyfriend is lovely and helped me.
With my story that I was a lesbian.
All he had to do was ‘What about that lass you were meeting the other week? She was fit.’ And the story becomes a thousand times more believable. What a star.
The charv still continued until we lost him. I didn’t walk so much as a metre away from anyone on the way home just in case.
Oh, and I played DARTZ!’s cowbell a little. I’d love to pretend I played it for Teaching Me To Dance, but I already told you, Jeff did. It was just while we were talking to them afterwards, I’d picked up a broken stick from next to the drum kit and, well, the cowbell was lying in easy reach. And nobody minded.
Today, I plan to eat lots of toast, drink lots of tea, get a shower, oh, and I’m flyering for Corinne Bailey Rae at the academy tonight. I’ve heard a lot about her, I’m surprised there was a space and Phil (not Phil from DARTZ!, sadly…oh man, my job would manage to get even more fun then, and Phil from the academy is a bit fit anyway) needed to ring and ask me. Ho hum, pig’s bum.