There's not a lot we can say about last Saturday's gig... It involved a highly secretive organisation who don't like to have their inner workings splattered all over the interweb. It had nothing to do with L Ron Hubbard, and the CIA were nowhere to be seen (are they ever though? just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not after you). We had to work hard to keep the crowd entertained, or risk having our asses bumped back to Guantanamo after a series of inexplicably linked events. But you know us, we work hard every time. We even managed to surprise ourselves by throwing a new one in there.
So, the booking was a big secret, we certainly can't tell you what it was and we probably shouldn't even reveal the venue.
So, instead, here's a picture of Bernie, Harry and Mark outside the Langstone Cliff Hotel on the night of last Saturday's Mason's Ladies Ball (Masonettes, anyone?). Totally unconnected. We just happened to be passing and liked the tree.
Next stop, the comparative normality of the Bowling Green. Anybody fancy a bit of Queen?
Love you lot! Byeeeee!
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