Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

Dance With The Devil By The Pale Moonlight

It was with considerable ire and melancholy that I spied a flyer for the fabulous Girls Aloud on the street this morning. Not because it was in the gutter stamped with the bootmarks of hundreds of passing trade (as this is the rightful place of the ‘rival’ band One True Voice) but because they are appearing at the UK’s number one chicken coup, G-A-Y.

I promised that I would never go back to that place, yet the lure of those tinfoil-clad sirens is almost too much to bear. As yet, I have not seen them perform live, and for my shame I still don’t know all the subtle nuances of the tambourine dance from No Good Advice. This is something that would probably be essential if we ever anger the Percussion God and all need to calm it down with the hypnotic wavings of the instrument, lest it destroys the Earth in a fit of cowbells. But I just can’t face going back into that place – with the sticky floor, over-priced drinks and flitty marys swivelling around the place like they’re being worked by magnets underneath. Have you ever walked around the exterior of the Astoria building where the night is held? It is tiny in comparison to the interior, and this is because the bottom two floors actually descend in Hell itself.

I have decided I shall not grace with my presence. Give the Girls my love and tell them I’ll catch up with them next time they’re doing a HMV signing. In the meantime, if the Percussion God turns up, tell him I’m learning the triangle and will be with him shortly.

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