I get up when I want, except on Saturdays, when I’m rudely avoiding the cooking of breakfast. The four-man birth resembles opening scenes of Young One’s ‘Sick’ episode. Someone please god tie a bin bag on my head and hammer the nails in!
Come on man, get up, the hangover cure awaits. Piss looks like iron bru. Berocca, coffee, litre of water, coffee. Piss looks like 5alive. Another litre of water, bacon sarnie, nap, more water, more coffee, shower. Piss looks like a weak Robinsons squash. Back in the game!
Sit on the patio with a brewer’s droop, I get intimidated by the seagulls, they love a bit of me!
The troops are up, every one slightly in shock we’re all intact despite the confession:
“lot more pushing on the bog than normal”.
With that, it’s Inn on the Green time once more. The glint in the security guard’s smile is beaming, yeah, alright mate, we get it, you got some sleep, we didn’t. cheers!
Thatcher’s Haze, the lemsip of booze. Edge is coming off! Time for new music. Theatre Royal and Gazelle have been the truly special ones in this slot!
A feeling of impending victory forever lurks on Saturday. The c86 wars were fought and the Stourbridge massive kicked an academy venue-sized hole into the industry. It’s all we ever wanted. A place to exist. A place to call our own. Then 1994 happened. Masterpiece after masterpiece came out. Dare we dream a little bigger?
This all culminates in the mid-90s triumphalism. Huge skyline singalongs to Sleeper, Ocean Colour Scene, The Bluetones, and Shed Seven echo across the sea. Smiles on every face, band t-shirts glow in the disco lights like a Mediterranean sunset. Maybe it's the clothes we wear. The tasteless bracelets and the dye in our hair. Maybe it's our kookiness. Or maybe, maybe it's our nowhere towns. Our nothing places and our cellophane sounds. Maybe it's our looseness. But we’re Shiiine On trash, you and me!
The skyline filters out, and the indie kids seek out Lammo but the ravers are only just coming out to play. Daniel Fulham fires up the party with his rave sets. The black and yellow become poetic as visibility wanes. Awesome 3 wobbles you to the core and N Joi pulsates through your heart like a shot of serotonin.
Jon Mancini drops acid house, rave, and pop classics. The piano loops a signal for another vodka lime soda. Another hug from a stranger. I lose my friends, I dance alone, it’s 4am, and I don’t wanna go home!