I saw someone break their arm tonight. I had to try very hard not to laugh.
We were standing outside Trillians in Newcastle, while Myllyr and Emma finished their cigarettes, when a man came towards us with a bunch of flyers in his hand. Now, after I'd recently come to the conclusion that I'm getting too old to be handing out flyers and that, here was a slightly overweight man, easily in his mid to late 50's, who wouldn't look at all out of place in a working men's club, handing out flyers. The other thing that stuck out to me is, he had a Burzum t-shirt on.
Now I listened to some Black Metal back in the day (early to mid 1990's), and I've still got some Mayhem and Cradle of Filth shirts kicking around, although I don't really wear them. The point is, if I did wear a Burzum shirt, although I wouldn't look like someone who was into them, I'd at least look like someone who used to be. This looked like a fat man in an inappropriate t-shirt. As he approached us, he said:
"I'm probably ganna get bollocked for this but there's four great bands on over at the Venue..."
As there were bands on in Trillians, this chap was basically trying to poach punters from one venue to another. It's one thing to flyer for an upcoming gig, but another one completely to do it on the night, at a venue with a band playing. He was about to go into Trillians when Karma intervened...
He went to skip up the step and into the venue, but tripped and went down like a sack of shit. Right on his front, face first. He didn't put his arms up/forward to protect himself, he just fell, lay still, then rolled over onto his back with his hand on his face. When he didn't get up, the doorman got off his chair and came over:
"Y'aalright there, mate?"
"C**T!"
He then lay there, out of breath, holding his face and saying "…bastard!" over and over again. None of this was aimed at the doorman, by the way. I initially thought he'd broken his nose, as he was making noises about "does it look broken?", but apparently he meant his upper arm. There was a swelling mid-way between his elbow and his shoulder that looked like he was smuggling an egg, so I suspect it was broken. We had to go in then, before I burst out laughing. Not at his pain, or even his hubris, but at the fact that post-fall, he communicated purely by expletives. We're in Newcastle.
The rest of the night was a good laugh, with a girl-band who had a drummer that looked like a bit like a transvestite, followed by a guy-band who all wore red trousers. Don't know the band-names, sorry. They were alright, though. There were a couple of weirdos threatening to sour the evening, but that's to be expected anywhere, not just the Toon.
Oh, and only one photo I'm afraid…
Clockwise from bottom left: Carol, Lee, Myllyr, Michael, Emma, Gis, myself.
Next up? Barbecue at Ken's house.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
No comments:
Post a Comment