12th May, 2012: Ton Of Dynamite!
Spat by Soulgirl at 5:07 pm | Comment here! Comments (4)
Please, make yourself comfortable – get a cup of tea or something. I’d like you to get yourself in the ‘zone’; the same zone I bathed luxuriously in last night, and in fact still am, although it’s a wee bit fuzzy at the moment. Now, listen to the track below, courtesy of Adam Topping, all the way through before you read on as I want you in the right mood to hear all about my funk-fuelled patronage to the Ton Of Dynamite room at the Gloucester Allnighter. I actually listened to this on permanent repeat for my entire homeward journey. Awesome!
Ready? Then let me begin…
[victormeldrew] I don’t belieeeeve it! [/victormeldrew] I only went and forgot my blasted camera! I blame my hurried disposition having gotten home from work at around 7.30pm, finding my car battery dead and having to be jumped by my neighbour, to be out on the road for 8.30pm. Like the ‘honorary bloke’ I am I made no fuss, flicked a flannel about my person and applied some mascara, and was indeed heading up the motorways en-route to my soul porn.
I know, I know! I wasn’t going out in the month of May at all but I was cajoled, coerced and willingly bullied into attending, with the added bonus of being Adam Toppings guest. I didn’t require too much convincing, especially with the likes of David Abbott, Dr. Pickles (Chris Stanley), Johnny Beggs, Adam Topping, Big Danny, Gospel Bob and Des Parker all digging deep into their ‘Top Drawers’ for our listening pleasure.
For me there was a perfectly balanced mix of familiar, unheard, lesser played and eclectic spins; the majority with a tempo fit for an aerobic workout. The room started off banging, filled with dancing people. As the night wore on and the morning crept in, the crowd became thinner. A shame but we all know what we like and what we don’t like which is fair enough, and I certainly liked.
To be honest, I was truly ON ONE!
With the current Moon phase of Waning Gibbous, I wasn’t as ‘on one” on the dance floor as I usually am. Damn that tidal pull on my internal water table, upsetting my delicate hormonal equilibrium. However, with Peggy Babcock (Tez) in the house I was guaranteed several earful’s of educated, poetic, vitriolic, cutting and comedic whinging. You never let me down Tez
I went a bit bonkers to this one, courtesy of David Abbott…
Dave also gave the following track an airing and in my usual, pathetically irritating, non-existent record information memory, I tried to tell him it was the record at the top, Memory of a Dream. I even argued the toss defiantly but of course I was incorrect and Dave just rolled his eyes and scratched his designer stubble in a manner that screamed ‘shut up you bint’… so I did. One should really learn to only discuss things one knows about and I clearly and openly know nothing
Chris gave my current favourite a blast; can’t get enough of it to be honest – pant creaming!
I have worn my voice right out; it’s just a piteous croaky whisper. I certainly voiced enough crap to fill a Ging Gang Goolie Cub Scouts weekend camping cesspit I can tell you. I’m not going to apologise though because that would indicate I am regretful which I’m not. BUT HEY, it’s still Saturday – BONUS! I’ve today and tomorrow to recuperate. That’s the great thing about a Friday allnighter; you still benefit from a full weekend.
The numbers appeared to be down across both rooms in direct comparison to the last event. Even downstairs which is usually full of twirling classics fans found the last hour very thin on the ground.
And it goes without saying that all the DJ’s delivered in that Ton Of Dynamite Room, including a couple of lovely Latin numbers by Mr Beggs that I hadn’t heard before (no surprise there!). Danny had brought his intrepid travelling support entourage with him, the Attic Lads Kev & Paul. I really wanted them to go the full-monty and launch into a synchronised acrobatic Cheerleader routine but it was not to be.
Great to chew the fat with my Girlfriends Ingrid and Jen together with a whole menagerie of other like-minded nighter-nutters. With the exception the infamous ‘Bilious Brian’ who suffered an acute recurrence of a chronic knob-head condition. Cast your mind back to 2009; a mere 3 years ago but seems much longer.
Back then Brian caused trouble picking on women (click and laugh at the comments) and last night, like history repeating, he did it again. He was staggering about outside whilst we were all chatting, laughing and smoking so I jokingly asked ‘are you a bit drunk Brian?”. We had, until this point, enjoyed a 3 year ceasefire, an amicable acquaintanceship, following his apology after the hoohaa in 2009. I had no reason to think that he would be offended.
My words indignantly kindled instant fury within his ‘Deep Limbic System’, yet again, turning him immediately, and without warning, into a crazed idiotic arsehole. He then aggressively threatened to ‘lay me out’
Not to be deterred or intimidated I stood my ground, ready to fend off any attempted drunken blow should there have been one, where instead a short exchange of insults occurred. He intimated that I don’t ‘go anywhere’ soul wise where as I just kept it simple, in light of his inebriation, calling him a cunt as I did before in 2009. He removed himself – deja vu – and went home. Small mercies
And I wasn’t the only female to suffer his inappropriate and uninvited aggression last night either as he had also picked on another woman earlier in the evening; what a twat. I think he might benefit from an exorcism or at the very least, a frontal lobe lobotomy with a rusty spoon tied to a chair
So, with that short-lived excitement concluded we all mulled it over trying to work out just what had happened. It was uninteresting and unimportant so we did the next best thing and re-entered the venue for more fun, frolics and fine music.
The lovely Bridget drenched me in tidal waves of her glittery loved-up ambience throughout the night – romance is alive!
The night closed with Des Parker and Dave Abbott double-decking whilst simultaneously staging a Darts Competition. Sean Haydon forced me to parade in front of the stage with a rudimentary placard that indicated to Mr Abbott a certain song choice, a request.
I think by this point Dave was tiring of my incessant immaturity and drivel but it did bring a smile to my face and a wonderful dance to the inimitable Waymond Hall’s What Will Tomorrow Bring.
Sean, you’re looking rather svelte; everyone’s losing weight, looking good and feeling great \o/
Post-nighter coffee’s were consumed over conversations that belie the number of hours we had all been without sleep or sustenance, at the local MacDonalds. Gospel ‘Breakdance’ Bob performed an impromptu dance routine in the car park, for our entertainment. Like a lemming I followed his lead, laying on my back, legs aloft and slightly akimbo, requesting that someone propel me around in a spinney fashion. Not a position I had properly thought through judging from the ‘adult’ comments that followed. It was mildly erotic for me though… Jesus, I really do need to get laid don’t I; before I spontaneously combust in a fiery ball of frustration-fanned flames with no-one to burn but myself
On the Sunday it’s reported that ?Vicky Green was called out at 10.30am, armed with a pair of tweezers, to extract a peppering of gravel from between Bob’s shoulders. That’ll learn him! (It’s not true, I made this up)
Kwik-Fit were opening as we stood gassing (not that sort of gas) out in the open; I found myself describing an impromptu day-dream about dirty overall covered grease monkeys giving me the once over on the ramps and a personal service. There’s something very sexy about a man in dirty overalls looking commanding and masculine. However, these porno thoughts more than likely arise from a distinct lack of sleep and no food whatsoever since I consumed a small packet of cashew nuts on Friday morning.
Conversational topics covered an array of unusual subjects; nipple sizes, political irritations, hair lengths, fast cars and weekend affected cock sizes. There’s a ‘fly on the wall’ book begging to be written!
Completely fucked am I; and glad of it… floating aimlessly in a colourful and surreal parallel universe with just me in it. Shards of broken memories are slowly being pieced together but the corners of my jigsaw evade placement and I cannot complete the puzzle.
Thank you everyone, for putting up with me… talking to me… hugging me… snogging me… insulting me… laughing with me and of course, laughing at me.
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