We had a gig a few days ago.
It all started when we turned up to the dimly lit venue that was up the STEEPEST flight of stairs ever and smelt like Jagerbombs and chicken (due it its location being over one of those Chicken-Kebab shops).
NOTE: Remember the STEEPEST flight of stairs ever. They come back into play a bit later.
There was a back-room where all the bands playing could dump their stuff and we noticed that several bands had left their mark on the wall. Zer0 happened to be carrying a bottle of fake blood in his bag (as you do. I suppose it’s better than a bottle of REAL blood, which just leads to so many other questions such as whose blood is that?? and D: WHY DUDE WHY?? D: ) so we uncapped a Sharpie, scrawled our name and splashed it in red finery that rolled down the wallpaper. If you’re ever playing in that venue at you happen to see a wall with band names and spot CRIME SCENE YEAH written in what could have been the aftermath of a violent crime, you now know when we were there.
And then, it was time. Clutching out instruments, drumsticks or selves, we stepped into the warm spotlights on the stage. Spike wet his lips and looked into the audience. Phats counted us in and then, we were off. Somewhere, angels wept as teenagers applied eyeliner and made out to music that would change their lives forever…
That wasn’t this gig.