As we rolled up, our supporting acts were providing a soundtrack to drinking but as yet, barely a quivering thigh on the dance floor. The night was young though so we retired to the hilltop to survey the scene and lay down some four way jazz harmonics to settle our souls.
As the allotted hour approached, and the sun began to set, we got the crowd and security on side with some judicious souvenir badge sistribution, then took to the stage for two hours of relentless Tones action.
The opening numbers were captured for all time, but the real fun started later. Like the behatted modwardian four headed rock and pop explosion that you now know us to be, the tunes kept building. And so did the crowd and their appetite for MORE!
From the delirious man with no shirt and passionate line in voicemail, to the birthday girl who broke her hand when someone's face got in the way, to the frankly excellent singing and raucous reception, we kept a righteous riot in full swing to the end.
As time ran short we were forced to cut songs. Like having to pick your favourite child, a painful and troubling business. But we picked wisely and, courtesy of our patron and all round good egg Tim, we're still able to finish on a big one.
Mission accomplished. Same time next year?
On this form, can the Bowling Green contain us? You'll have to come down on July 7th to find out...
Love you Ashill, love you all!
Byeeeee!
X
- posted from a wireless telegraph
No comments:
Post a Comment