Start off in the City, scoping out HMV and That's Entertainment, picking up Sugar Tax for £1.99.
Then off to Ipshit to
...well, a side trip to the charity shops of Diss. Famed for being the Sixth Circle of Hell in Dante I-Lick-Hairy's poem The Divine Comedy. Generation Sex in a woodshed. or something. And indeed, in our Charity Shop quest for further budget tuneage, we moved toward the city, secure in our holy cause, and beheld such a fortress. And on every hand I saw a great plain of woe and cruel torment. Bitter tombs were scattered with flame made to glow all over, hotter then iron need be for any craft. And such dire laments issued forth as come only from those who are truly wretched, suffering and forever lost!
Which is about what I expected from Diss!
Anyhoo, finally get to Ipshit, and pick up our OMD VIP Pack.
Hold up - wasn't there supposed to be a signed Set List? Oh - the band are still in the middle of signing them. We should have them by the time Soundcheck starts.
Lets look at our tickets then. Knowing our luck, we'll be right at the back. They were allocated in order of when they were purchased.
Stalls, Row A, Seats 1 & 2! That's right at the front! Blimey o'Trousers! That's fabulous.
But... seats 1 & 2 though. They'll be right over on the far left or right side. Pissfudge. Oh well, won't get a brilliant view, but on the end so plenty of room for electroboppin'.
Right, lets's check out the seating plan, and see where our seats are... WTF - Row A is not only the front row, but consists of just 6 seats right in the middle!
By Satan's spurty cockstick - you couldn't get any better than that!
And so on to Phase 1: 40 mins of Soundcheck. Lots of discussion about Bottom End [snigger] and Smack [snigger] and how Andy can only hear phhhhrrrmmm when it should be tink ("It's an 80's thing"). And can the channel be dipped as the riser is acting as a bass amplifier, and...
Alas, all too soon it was over, and we had to head out to Weatherspoons for tea. And MacDonalds for a Chocolate Fudge Brownie McFlurry. Oh, and get chatted up by some widowed Russian oligarch spending her wealth on gigs.
And then back for Phase 2: The main gig!
Oh my!
The light dim, and Paul "Pogo" Curtis is already standing! On comes John Foxx and... well, let's just say there was one person going absolutely mental. Everyone else remains seated, and Paul is bouncing and flailing like a lone loon, ending each song with an orgasmic warcry of "YEAH! YEAARGH! YEAH! OH YEAH! YAAARRRGGGHH! COME ON! I LOVE YOU JOHN!".
Still, after 35 mins of violin vixen voyeurism, a half hour break for a red faced Pogo Paul to recover for the next bout.
Whilst getting told off by Pushers Of Disabled for spoiling the view, and that the cripple would've kicked the dancer buffon out the way. If they had kicky legs. or something.
Ha! Just wait till OMD starts! What's the first track on that setlist? Please Remain Seated... yeah, like that's gonna happen!
Anyhoo, the main gig gets underway, and it was absolutely stonking fabulous! Spot on sound, atmosphere, everything! 90 mins of classic dad dancing, and us RIGHT at the very front and centre!
So, no change there then!
And then it's all over, and we had to race off back to Norwich so Paul could catch up on The Snooker, having not seen it all day and missed it so much.
Although I think he probably meant we had to race off back to Norwich so Paul could catch up with The Wife He Dotes On, having not seen her all day and missed her so much...
...although, he was seeing John Foxx, and knowing Paul, he probably forgot he was heterosexual and married to a woman in the throes of his love of Foxx...
