what a sport

Hiya!

That one's just in case Nigel reads this. Oh ho.

So now. Here's what has all gone down in these last couple of days. (day's - day is?)

Yestermahday we played in good old Islington. Very good fun. Surprisingly the voice held out. The just boiled water wins the day hooray. Although I was discussing the relative merits of different brands of honey with someone in one of the other bands beforehand. Very rock and roll.. Actually, I can make that statement more rock and roll quite easily. Watch and learn:

I was talking about honies with someone backstage before the gig.

I win!

Today has been a lazy-ass day (lazy ass-day?). Which was nice. Then I watch-ed the rugby. In a kind-of reverse situation to the one that Rants was facing. In that we were a room full of brits with one Saffa. The Saffa no less. I've never watched rugby before. It's pretty brutal. My ambition now is to watch an Australian Rules game. Cos I hear that's even more brutal.

I digress. (Cos I haven't used that phrase - to death - before).

My point is that television was a bad influence because not 5 minutes after the match we found ourselves in a big-off scrap on the landing. There was some scrumming, a lot of sean-piling and some definite crash-bangs. The funny thing was that the Saffa was the one that (undeliberately I *think*) ended up with a black eye. Ho ho.

Was good though. Not had a decent scrap probably since I was living with the Badger and the 'Noock. Maybe since I was in the studio.

So there you have it. Conclusive evidence that TV can make you do stuff. Or somethings.

ovorondout