15th July, 2012: Burnley Allnigher…

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For some days prior to departure I’d been stricken by what I can only describe as a female hard on!

All aboard the Sunshine Bus – window licker’s anonymous – let the wagons roll

Sean, Dusty, Dave and I boarded the bus for a comedic journey littered with laughter and inappropriate conversation at times. Dave and Dusty sat in the back where Dave commented ‘stop fucking hitting me Dusty’ whilst Dusty was talking incessantly about anything and everything.

We laughed remembering Vicky Green’s hilarious comment on my Facebook Status about a woman in a cycle helmet and no bike – she reminded me about me having a Foo and no cock which led to her explanation of the history behind the The Foo Fighters name initially being Cunt Punchers. We also laughed at the conversation of Ali’s hairy tarantula and my boiled egg

Dave had brought along his ‘Stig’ toy following another a witty conversation on Facebook. I later found that this wasn’t a toy but a vessel containing bubble bath. It didn’t taste very nice and I was suitably punished when offering it to my mouth!

We were back at the Koko’s venue and I was glad. A better dance floor than the Kestrel Suite, a better bar and a fantastic balcony allowing regular cigarette breaks and cool off opportunities.

After we’d re-arranged the room the sound system was erected and testing began in earnest. Dave Shaw dipped into Sean’s record collection and commenced the most fantastic delivery of music; the night hadn’t even started and I found myself skipping about the dance floor to show my appreciation. It was around 7pm and we still had two hours before the kick-off.

A few ‘early-doors’ guests arrived to participate in a little assembly prior to the commencement of the most awesome night of music filled camaraderie.

It was as though the dance floor was my fuck-buddy due to the recent arrival of a mid-life near-permanent state of ‘horn’. What’s the fucking matter with me? Sex is on my mind almost 24 hours a day and I ain’t getting none!

Anyway, I was happy to take out my sexual frustrations on said dance floor; the passion oozed out of every single pore of my body along with a torrent of sweat. It got SO hot. By the time the last record was played I was positively dessicated but sated all at the same time. I received a comment from a patron about the passion I displayed whilst dancing – proof of the pudding.

Sean secures a ‘young’ guest jock for each event which gives us old folks the chance to hear what the younger ear is collecting and listening to. This event featured Rich Evans. A cheeky Northern rascal whom I affectionately call Ginge. Not proper ginger with translucent blue skin though, more of the ‘all American home-boy’ variety and very handsome.

His set was meticulous, fresh, passionate, upfront and right in your fucking face. Blinding! Thanks fella, I really enjoyed that which pumped me up good and proper. The night had officially had the ‘bar’ set as far as I was concerned. What unfolded was, for me, the most erotic night of musical masturbation ever.

And for the first time in a LONG time I actually felt extremely sexy. Helped by my mid-life sexual frustrations no doubt. It all sounds SO HORRIBLY WRONG

I danced and danced and danced like no-one was watching. Peppered with conversations and tomfoolery with my Soul Brethren. My life would be so empty without you all and without a dance floor. Music has become my best friend and I’d feel worthless without it.

Of course, as expected, all the DJ’s delivered top-draw tunage. Danny Price, Stuart Bennett, Cliff Camfield, Sallie Reynolds, Rich Evans, Killa, Eddie Wainwright and Geoff Rudd did themselves proud. A stand-out moment for me came at around 4.30am when Eddie dumped a plethora of mind-blowing super fast records that fucked me up proper like an exocet missile! I was being ‘danced to death’ and I couldn’t have been happier. It was getting harder and harder to find any energy and we still had an hour left where I knew Sean would be hammering me with some of my current favourite spins. And he did!

I found myself going a bit berserk to this number… what a fucking mammoth record!

Hearing this at 5.30 in the morning, when you’re already as horny as the Devil himself, is dynamite. From out of no-where my energy levels raised a billion percent and I got my hoof on proper. Mind you, co-ordination was dulling by this point. Hearing it out LOUD is a must and no justice is served by listening to it at home. Topping and Evans were dance floor companions for the most fantastic 2½ minutes of pure magic.

I laid on the top step of the entrance to the venue, prostrate, allowing the cold floor to embrace my trembling shell of a body gathering farewell kisses from departing friends. Special moments.

Post-nighter Latte was an absolute must and we met up with a largish crowd at Stafford. Being sat outside in glorious early morning sunshine, talking bollocks, was lovely… up to the point when the boys discussed their private and personal ‘requirement’s upon reaching home. Comedy gold

Sean Haydon, you are EPIC! Thank you so much for allowing me to travel up with you and the boys again. I am more grateful than I could ever convey in words.

Anyway, I’m off to find an online vendor of bromide. Over and out

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