Whats Black and says ROCK!?

Following some hasty arrangements in a pleasure ground in Bourneville, This was our first time at the Black Horse under the new management. As you know, what we do is high concept pop art masquerading as gonzo drinking music, and the all new Blackie was to be our canvas. Naturally, we were keen to perform to the highly shambolic standards to which you have become accustomed.

The set up was ridden with crises. Too much furniture. Too few plugs. Zero stove pipe clearance. This resulted in creative use of sofas, mercy dashes across town and the third appearance on stage of that most frightful of modern contrivances, the Bowler Hat.

But we made it onto the stage on time. What followed was a triumphant blast through some of the outer reaches of our set. Unfortunately for Bunting, it appears Lola is going to become a regular again. Fortunately for Harry, it turns out the rest of us don't need a '1-2-3-4', when a '1-ugh-ugh-nggg' will suffice. Unfortunately for Bernie, bellowing for three hours is once again on the cards now he's fag free. And fortunately for Mark, the smoke machine was positioned such that not only was he visible for whole minutes at a time, but he could even see his own hands occasionally.

A good time was certainly had by all, from the lovely dancing girls to the AC/DC boys from North Devon, through to the frankly masochistic Tone Army regulars.

Any gig that ends up with Bernie lying on his back with Bunting astride him, spraying the Big Rock Ending (c) of Purple Rain over the crowd in a frankly disturbing phallic bass orgasm can't be bad.

Dennis the landlord wants us back, we brought joy to more than a few, and our mojo is still a-rising. Not a bad nights work!

Thanks for coming - we all did too. We'll see you next week for some smashed champagne bottles at the Christmas Single Launch Party! Tally ho and all that!

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