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december 4, 2003 - london, england - water rats
from vinny miller's diary
I remember the night it came in on the Vinphone. There was no time to lose. Down the Vinpole into Vin III, the North-West face of Vinmanjaro slid back and we were away.
En route I briefed Jonjo: Nottingham's premier tangential hair diva Scout Niblett and her sinister-looking, curiously-monikered cohorts Swearing At Motorists had thrown down the gauntlet for a Guitar Duel. These citizens had clearly been taking drugs of some kind.
We docked at Telecom Tower and made our way to the venue.
As soon as the mustachioed one bestrode the stage, i knew my titanium plasma bangle and kryptonite powers of studliness would be as nought. Here was writhing, pulsating erectile tissue in a suit, symbolically backed by a dangly scrotal pair of skinsmen. Jams were kicked out, decals licked off, speakers abused past the point of no return, over the edge into the longest money shot in the history of adult entertainment. Invigorated by this audio bukkake the crowd bayed for more, but their cries were stylishly obliterated with a reverse helicopter scissor-kick to the mic stand as he left the stage. My mid-set karate moves were starting to look lame.
At this point an obscene hunger overtook me and i bailed for a chickpea curry and a glass of appletise.
On my return, Swearing At Motorists were kind enough to invite me into their dressing room suite where i felt bound to compliment them on their choice of aromatic joss-sticks. For some reason i felt a little giddy and out of sorts as i left the venue.
Jonjo took the reins for the flight home, while i settled in the lounge area to answer our celebrity correspondence.
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