My Oh My, you ARE a Dark Horse...

We were only mildly miffed at having to delay our annual 21 April celebration of the ascension of that most decadent of Henrys (the 8th, of course) - but duty called and the birthday needs of two of our loveliest fans were more important than another round of mead and posset.

And after a not too typical start (Big Bertha the Bass Amp asserted her right to strike halfway through the first number, precipitating an acoustic Springsteen tribute and Bryan Adams duet with Tess the birthday girl), we locked into the relentless groove that smashed Taunton's back doors in so very insistently last week.

It worked a charm. After the last two outings at the Black Horse, which were arguably less than ecstatically received, it was a treat to be holding the ring for what for all intents and purposes could have passed for an innovative and darn sweaty round in the Miss Exeter 1973 contest.


Much good humoured carry-on style flirtatiousness was apparent. All good, wipe-clean fun except for poor Turner, who was freaked out by the female attention - the poor latino rent boy has become so used to assorted Cougar and Bear attacks that to be confronted by sexy peers is an alien and unsettling experience.

Needless to say, we were inspired to bang through a relentless three hours like a Barn Door in Tornado Alley. Unfortunately, we had a gig to play so we put our energy into that instead, and ended up leaving large parts of our audience thoroughly spent.
 
And sadly, for now, we are going underground, to sing and dance for The Man at assorted private gigs and weddings. Private in that our beautiful Tone Army can't be there in person, but not so private that we won't stick it in the Stovepipe. So you'll need to get your kicks here, and we'll see you in mid-June. Where, we hear you cry?

You say ASH - we say HILL! Probably the best ale festival in Devon...

See you there. Love you byeeee!

X