You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May 2004.
Today is accession day, so in celebration the government (or one of its many tentacles) arranges a street party gig type junket up in Drogheda. We’re slightly weary cos we don’t think we’re necessarily a street party type band, but we’re somewhat obliged to the government for sending us around Europe and sure, they’re paying us.
Anyway, we agree after all the plans are made, and make our way up in a series of cars. The original idea we were pitched “a gig in a field with 1,000 people” (which made us wary in the first place) is clearly some kind of euphemism for “superquinn’s car park and about 15 local gurriers throwing stuff at you”. We follow Broken Hill, who are all abs and tats and whose backing band was a ghetto blaster with a mic attached to it.
We play well, like we actually enjoy it. The kids stand by the barrier at the front and throw loose change at us. One accidentally throws up a euro coin, which misses my head by about an inch, and then, realising his gaffe, asks for it back. Ha ha. Not bloody likely. I need it more than him anyway. They also threaten Paul, and try to climb on the stage to fight with. The bouncers throw them back into the car park. I should point out that they’re about 4 foot tall and the oldest must be 10.
After the gig they come around to the barrier at the back where we’re packing up and having a bottle of beer and hurl insults at Paul. We had to hold him back.
Still, I came out of it with a euro. Not too bad, eh?
