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Guy Brighton's Nights OutI got an invite to go with the Lady to see The Libertines and a few other bands play at a special party somewhere between 9th and 10th, I think on 26th. Maybe it was a party for the fact that the junky lead singer of the Libertines wasn;t going to show up, I don't know. Place was cram packed of a rock and roll crowd and I soon settled in to watch the ads playing behind the warm up bands' heads.

The bar was free.

About beer number four the band comes on. Their excessive singer absent, his best mate did a good job at being rock and roll. Meanwhile, the Lady had noticed that I was doing a job of being rock and roll. Yes, I was having such a good time I had forgotten to do that trick that I mastered at The Hiss gig: bottle of water in my hand in front of me, bottle of beer in my other hand hid snuggly behind me.

'I don't want you to get drunk in front of my work colleagues,' she said.

I have used the excuse that when one watches a rock and roll band one should have a skin full too many times now. Instead I became a mopey teenager. The Lady wasn't impressed.

As the Libertine's kept on rocking to a smiliar sounding song a bald guy staggers up to the Lady. I have seen him before. They chat for a couple of minutes. He is slaughtered. His girlfriend comes up to take him away and the Lady says, 'He's so sweet.'

Of course I take offence to this. This swaying chap is 'sweet', I - not swaying yet - am a danger to the Lady's career.

Anyway -'He's in rock and roll and you're in business,' she says.

'In business where I don;t get paid,' I reply.

'That doesn't mean you have to raid the free bar', she replies.

I love the way a woman can - in an instant - use her environment for her argumentative advantage...

More mopey teenage behavior comes from yours truly which forces the Lady to dance by herself. That's a pretty serious sign. I drop the empty bottle of Stella I have been holding in the trash and take the full bottle of Red Stripe I have been keeping in my back pocket and hand it to someone else.

This someone else however is the 'sweet' bald guy. He downs it and hands it back to me and wonders on.

The Lady looks over to see that I now have another bottle in my hand and it's empty. Before I can protest tho bald guy is being pulled out of the room by his girlfriend yanking his ear. In his hand are guitar strings he's pinched from the musicians beside the stage.

That maybe the reason for the similar sounding songs I think.

As we leave I think we must be OK and should be forgiven: I am not drunk and someone has behaved worse than me. I mean, it's not as if I am the junky lead singer of the band or something.

Oh, that would be OK though.

August 18, 2004 in Diary, Night Life Adventures | Permalink


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