30 nights of bushweek - intermission update

Just a quick update on Civilian life for the illumination of interested parties.

The "continental breakfast" phase of the tour is now over, and we are once again ensconced in The Baarons filthy rat-hole on Kingsland Road. Sitting amongst the empty bean cans and soiled underwear, it's almost as if the whole rotten thing never happened, like a passing night-terror.

"What is it darling, what's wrong?"

"I *sob* dreamt I was the *sob* bass player in Civil Civic!!! We toured Europe in a *sob* Ford Galaxy. It was HORRIBLE!!!!"

But this doesn't mean I can now come down with glandular fever and watch old Steve Martin movies in peace. Fuck no.

We have a short but nasty set of U.K shows to plough through before that happy day comes. So it's going to be a while yet before I have both the time and the minimum of required energy to walk you through the hideous swamp of fear and humiliation that was the Civil Civic Autumnal Assault on Europa.

But needless to say, four weeks of tightly packed touring have yielded many a sorry tale, and in-spite of good taste or discretion or any sense of common decency, these tales will be told.

You will laugh (at our expense).
You will cry (with disgust and frustration).
You will probably throw up at some point.

That's right, land-lubbers, there's a blizzard of salty yarns to be spun, chock to the gills full-O.....

SEX!!!

VILOENCE!!!

TERROR!!!

CREEPY, BOOZY, HOMO-EROTIC NAZISM!!!

AND GOOD OLE-TIMEY ROCK'N'ROLL!!!*

(*complete with Norweigan zombie beardos!)

So once again I appeal to the saintly patience of anyone who gives a shit. Once it gets going, this tour-blog is going to run for far longer than any of you will be able to stomach. For real.

In the meantime BRUSH PROPERLY!!! Don't just scrub away briefly and think the plaque is gone. You're living in a fools paradise. Wake the fuck up.