A groupie weekend and a bad knock, knock joke…

I know I’m pretty behind but I want to take you back…way back… back into town or July. It came clouding in, and while everyone got their ‘Mmweh  – this is what you call summer’ face on. I was busy. Sweating. Or mildly perspiring, with groupie excitement.

It was Thursday 5th and I had a ticket to see Kate Tempest at the Southbank Centre as part of the Shake the Dust festival. She is my hero. She is a rapper/poet/one woman entertainer/genius. Just check out Give…

Kate Tempest was followed by Saul Williams. I couldn’t really look at another poet at this point. Worded out, I hit the river. The Shard was opening and there was going to be a laser show… We looked desperately for a tinnie but only found a very expensive bar outside Somerset House. Men in suits dancing around chicks in heels to noise. For a second I got a glimpse into City life. We took our over priced beers and settled on the bridge.

The laser show was terrible. It was just like that annoying child at school waving his new Christmas present about. But, this time he was on stilts…. I kept expecting  it to really kick off but it never happened.

So, to spice things up I argued down the Southbank with my boyfriend. There’s nothing I love more than a public, dramatic, look at me row. Just love a a bit of car dodging/screaming… even better if  the driver beeps and hurls abuse.

Friday was going to be a big day…  Bloc festival had hit the London Pleasure Gardens and we had tickets. We were going to see a whole load of electro music and a bit of Snoop Dog. We soon realised it was going to be a disaster…there were queues that went on for miles, and this only continued inside where you had to queue for another decade  to see any act. It then started to get quite scary. … the undersized joint was filled to the rim with Snoop fans that had come for miles to watch a queue. It was a bad knock, knock joke. EVERYONE had been let in.

We did a runner, having heard a big fat nothing. Luckily we made the last tube and bumped into a magician, who did endless tricks on us, making the journey back bareable. His wizzing of playing cards around the carriages stopped me needing a wizz.

Things looked better on the groupie front the next day… I was going to see my favourite band The Brian Jonestown Massacre. Please check this band out, and watch Dig (the documentary about them and the Dandy Warhols) They make music better than pretty much everyone. http://www.brianjonestownmassacre.com/

I danced my big head off, got shit loads of merchandise and tried to sniff out the whereabouts of Anton(the lead singer) to no avail.

But it was all okay…. I knew that, had I seen him, I would have stared him in his stoned eyes and said honestly ‘I’ll do anything for you’