Yay! I slept 11 hours last night! That's bound to have kicked the jet-lag now. I'm staying at my friend Chris' place while he's in Tuscany and not going to see the Last Real Daniel O'Donnell Show. He's in a very nice flat that's right above Ally's place, Chris' bandmate in 28 Costumes. I say very nice, the ceiling is on the floor. That's no place for a ceiling. But, fuck it, he's got wi-fi, so that's good.
I finally started moving around about 4pm yesterday and Ally and I treated ourselves to a slap up meal at a place called The Albert, a down-market Wetherspoons if such a place could exist. It was just about OK but they did the usual vegetarian thing that gets right on my goat's nerves wick. I ordered vegetarian sausage and mash and the man taking the order looked at me like I'd just ordered 9/11 soup and PrincessDianaisdead cake. Apparently, they only put the vegetarian option there to fill up the menu, they don't actually have any of it, that would be well bent. Cunts.
After a quick trip to a bar called The Baltic Fleet, decorated to look like a boat, kind of, we all went to the gig. Me, Ally, his girlfriend Sam and some of their friends that the pig-ignorant fucks never introduced me to. And the gig was a lot better than the previous night. Alex Boardman closed and he was utterly fantastic and very quick with the biting comments about The Wirral. Wherever that is. Plus Janice Phayre dressed up as a vagina. I compered and had a bit of fun with it so I'm now looking forward to tonight's show. Feeling a bit more relaxed about it. And it's important to be relaxed. Especially as right after the gig I'm going to be knocking back a drink, grabbing my bag and getting the National Express back to London. Fucking hell.