Went to see the morning after girls last night with the Bossman, all good. Really liked them, and prefer their fuzzy live sound to the crisper album versions.
Dark and too cool to smile, they rampaged through their set supporting the Boxer Rebellion. Love them! (The morning after girls that is). Lots of layered noise, and they look great too. Sort of elegant skinny goth characters from the Beano, all of them with waists < 28 inches. Lots of black clothing and po-faced hair flicking. And they pulled it off without looking like a bunch of cocks.
The first band on were called Inbetween Days, have to say they look good, have balls and I wish them well. Enjoyed them too.
Boxer Rebellion I'm not so sure about, doesn't hit any buttons for me. Anyway we left early and got the train home, as it was before 11pm, I was looking forward to having room to breathe on my train without some pissed up freak invading my personal space. Unfortunately a different beast crashed into my aura, disturbing my karma.
Some pin striped suit wearing, dandruff ridden middle aged business man plonked himself next to me. I wouldn't mind, but he stank. Not just of that awful wet dog/stale suit smell, but it was combined with cheap aftershave (I reckon it was called Masculo-Bull or something butch like that), B.O and a horrible overbaked microwaved cornish pasty he was tucking into. He might as well have completed the set and pissed on the seat to add to his stink recipe, then guffed in my face. He also ate loudly, munching with his mouth open. I'm sure the guy opposite had a good view of the cement mixer that was his heaving jowls. Shut up! Stop being smelly!
The problem is, I'm not one of those selfish shits who puts their bag / coat / sack of turds on the seat next to them, thus telling anyone who has got on the train to "f*ck off and don't sit next to me" leading to one of those stupid scenario's of "would you mind moving your bag?", "oh yes, of course" then two people sit next to each seething with rage at each others percieved rudeness and playing a game of thigh vs thigh and see who gives up that one centimetre of space which gives the other a sense of moral victory. Maybe I should compromise my good manners next time and take this approach one step further, perhaps gibbering incoherently in my seat, rocking two and fro and pleading with people to sit next to me whilst barking between words.
I've decided, Humans are not meant to live in cities where they have to rub up against each other on public transport.