Two men are sat watching some good old fashioned rock and roll music at a gig. They’ve already had to endure the poor organisational skills of Huddersfield, Wetherspoons meals without the drinks (because the wait for drinks was longer than the food for some reason), rain, snow, sleet, drunk Yorkshire idiots and a winding, zig-zagging queue to get inside.
The support act were fine. The sun came out and the woman took her top off. If only the sound system was decent enough to make what she was shouting about audible but you can’t have everything I suppose.
The first band came on and despite numerous jokes at their expense (not from me), a jolly good time was had by all, especially when they did a rousing cover of ‘Enter Sandman’ by Metallic and a soothing rendition of ‘Africa’ by Toto.
The second band began their set with a weird recorded message by some semi-famous actor guy who I recognise the face of but can never remember his name. About four songs in the band suddenly decided to leave the stage.
“What’s going on?” everyone asks.
Cue the stagehands and roadies going backstage and trying to wheel on what can only be described as the world’s most unnecessarily large shed (FYI it looked more like a log cabin to me, Kev’s description is the official description though because he said it first). The shed is so big they struggle to get it onto the stage because a corner keeps getting caught on something. Manoeuvre, pivot, manoeuvre, pivot. A few minutes later it’s wheeled into the middle and the drummer climbs on top.
The band then do a two further songs before sacking the shed off and putting it back where they found it.
Was the shed some kind of protest? Probably not. Were the two songs that the band sung whilst it was there based around sheds? Did they sing ‘Sweet Shed of Mine’ and ‘My Love (How I Shed Those Tears For You)’? No they did not. Did the shed have anything to do with what was happening onstage? Not in the slightest.
It’s times like these that does make you wonder if anything actually makes sense anymore.
Time for a tasty treat! How about some Milky Cow? It’s a luxury fudge.
It happened nine years ago today, on 30 November 2012.
It is the only picture I took that day, apparently.
But what is Kev doing? And where is he? And what is that red thing?
My phone thinks this happened in Swillington. Why would we be in Swillington? That can’t be right.
Answers on a postcard, please, to:
What is Kev Doing
Pouring Beans Competition Department
I see Kev’s been out tagging again.
Obviously, I’m part of his crew, so I made sure all the other rappers nearby knew I was with MC Kev. He’s gold on the floor and gold on the mic.
What’s going on here?
We all know the healing powers of Doctor Burger. The wonderful Doctor Burger makes everything better. But for every Yin there is a Yang, and for every Starsky there is a Hutch. What if there was an anti-Doctor Burger, an evil burger that would make you feel worse instead of better?
There is. I’ve found it. I don’t want it.
You have it if you want. I’m fine without.
It’s been doing its best to match the appalling failure that was 2020, but we’re not letting it. No, 2021 will be the year things got better, not the year things got worse.
Still – it’s been a bit of a slog so far. Now, to celebrate the fact that half of it has gone and the other half is probably going to be a bit more enjoyable than the first one was, let’s all sit down and have a slice of cake.