These are dark days we live in, gentle reader, dark days indeed.
People who are no better than hungry reptiles, feeding on the misery of nations, walk free under the sun while the virtuous are trampled underfoot and cursed for getting in the way of the gore-stained band-wagon. I weep bitter tears for the future of the human project.
Pre-tour rituals are an important part of band life. What are yours?
I was half way through my traditional pre-tour ritual (sacrificing six andalusian bulls to the Great Old Ones, who dwell in the roaring blackness between the stars and speak to me in terrible whispers) when word came through from CC HQ that all systems were not go. Not go at-all.
Throughout the modern age, the ins and outs of international immigration law have sucked many good and righteous people into a dark, freezing limbo. These fine men and women with no criminal tendencies have been forced to grovel like maggots before the granite altars of bureaucracy.
This is the terrible doom that has landed on the head of our own dear Baaron Von Cuddles III, guitar wrangler, idiot savant and chief strategist for the Civil Civic pop music concern.
I have called Baaron Von Cuddles many foul names and made many accusations against him, but I have never said he is not a diligent man, or that he is careless with his personal affairs. I do not confess to understand the complicated scenario that has resulted in him being confined within the borders of the United Kingdom but I know in my bones that sloppiness on his part played no part in it.
The condensed version is that due to misinformation given to him by phone drones at the UK VISA Authority he had booked an appointment to have his visa renewed. The expectation was that he would be briefly interviewed and a new visa issued on the spot.
But at the last minute it was revealed that he had been given bad information, the appointment was no good to him and that his passport had to be immediately posted off to the Home Office to avoid becoming an illegal alien.
Border Authority operatives patrol the upper Thames, alert for signs of CC activity.
His unstable Malaysian lawyer fiance immediately emerged from a dense fog of gin and valium and started making hysterical late-night phone calls to others of her kind. Within a few crazy hours she had managed to assemble a truly terrifying team of legal assassins, bent on getting our Baaron some sort of Special Dispensation to leave Britain and get on with the vital task of bringing the hideous CC noise.
The charge was spearheaded by the much feared Margaret Tillings Baxter Q.C, who issued a public statement to the effect that she intended to see everyone involved hung by their thumbs from telephone poles to be pecked at by crows and pelted with dung.
But their frenzied efforts over the following 48 hours came to nothing. Their bitterly sharp and well guided legal darts were dashed against the high black cliffs of UK immigration law. It was becoming clear that the scum had won.
Trapped inside his dismal, cockroach infested flat in Dalston the Baaron was eventually forced to bite the proverbial bullet. Almond The God was contacted with instructions to yank our whole Spring tour up by the roots. 25 shows across Europa that promised to be non-stop fireballs of noise and energy and dangerously good vibes were stabbed in the womb by the merciless daggers of fate.
Needless to say spirits are low here at CC HQ.
The Baaron, his body bloated by booze, stares vacantly into space as Frank, our new intern, makes a nice cup of tea.
The Baaron has gone into a coma-like funk and is unresponsive to all stimulus even extreme physical pain. I have flown to London to bolster morale amongst our staff and make sure the legal team gets all the top-shelf scotch and ketamine they need to keep taking the fight to the pigs, but the brooding atmosphere and constant stream of hate emails from concert promoters are taking their toll on my famously sunny outlook.
But tomorrow is another day, and our efforts to forge some goodness and light from this shitheap have only just begun. In the meantime we offer our deepest, most heartfelt apologies to each and everyone who was looking forward to catching some live Civil Civic action this spring. We were dying to see you and fuck your ears. Next time.
Please show your support for the Baaron by throwing a Like and a comment at the Free Aaron FB page, courtesy of our team weatherman, Jeremy from Limoges.