Only thing about me is the epilepsy...
Goodness gracious, what a day/eve!
So, I enjoyed Cinderella, although I have yet to decide whether HBCs scant screen time vs corset constrained cleavage was worth the pervosity quotient.
Of course it was! Best Færie Gothmother ever!!
Although that could be the inebriating influence of a hipflask full of Maple Jim Beam and two cans of Morgan's Spiced Rum & Coke!
So, after depositing Polish Pretties with their Other Halves, I took meself off to The Fair in Chav'll Thieve Gardens!
Boring! All I won was a Steak Baguette.
So I took meself off to The White Lion for more Cider!
Hic!
Then I toddled off down to The Talk for pints of Amaretto and Cider cocktail.
And it was Mod Night, with Small Fæces tribute band The Small Fakers¹, supported by... um... The Small Fakers With The Lead Singer Out Of The Byrds From The Sixties.
And a very impolite crowd are Mods. Why, I could barely hear the band o'er their loud, incessant chatter. Which was quite embarassing when each song finished and there was a slight ripple of applause undercutting the stream of babble.
It must be soul destroying to be on stage, and be ignored throughout. He must've been desperate to scream "LISTEN TO ME! I USED TO BE FAMOUS! I RECORDED TURN, TURN, TURN, MR TAMBOURINE MAN, 8 MILES HIGH... WON'T YOU PLEASE SHUT YOUR FACE AND HEAR ME SING!"
At least I didn't get duffed up by the big burly skinhead and his equally big beefy missus for telling him to shift out of our view... he just moved aside, clearly acquiessing to someone of such superior awexymness & Presence who's hard to say No to!
Or is that a John West Tuna Snack Pot (no, that were his sweaty bird's flange. possibly)
But when the DJ span his platters... the dancing... OMG the dancing...
Now, I'm seen as something as legend in the realm of dancefloor entertainment, but I have never seen such a shocking display of lack of rhythm or style.
Obviously, as a Goth, I am unfamiliar with the rules of Mod Dancing, I know not which are "Boy Only" dances, "Girl Only" Dances, or "Mixed" dances. Although some Hippy Chick was dancing to a Boys Only dance, which was frowned upon. And some poor chequerboard chick kept turning through 180°, meaning at times she was female, and others a boy (for in Mod circles, compass point orientation determines gender on the dancefloor).
But some people made Ian Curtis look like Louis Spence. Or Wayne Sleep. Or Lionel Blair. or something,
Never have so many danced so badly and so out of time with so little rhythm!
Yeah, one or two had rhythm. Heck, even Great Fat Crystal Tipps in the ill-fitting 60s dress still had rhythm AND all the authentic moves! Mrs Legs Akimbo Trying To Pull Twiggy had rhythm.. well, one, slow, wide-legged rhythm for ever song. But most...
...as pissed as I was, I could have danced better! Even not knowing 99% of the badly covered Hits Of The Sixties!
As opposed to the Hots In Their Sixties, which presumably most of the mod crew thought they were. Bad outfits, badly aged, and bad hair.
SO much bad hair! And narry a Pretty amongst 'em! Well, apart from maybe 4: BlueDress, Speccy Blonde, Samantha "The Only And Hottest Reason We Used To Go To Pizza Hut Was Because She Waitressed There" Biggs, and... um... there must have been more than them three...
It was that bad, we left at about 12. 12! On a club night! How shockingly bad must it have been to get a taxi home at 12!
Well, I say a taxi home. I had to bloody well walk it! We planned on getting a taxi, but somehow, between the cloakroom and exit, my Sister managed to find Other People to fill the taxi to capacity.
Other People who weren't her brother!
Other People that would exceed the seating capacity of 1.
A number that corresponds to the excess baggage that is The Xym.
And even if I could squeeze into the at-capacity taxi (assuming the driver would allow it), I refer people to my previous blog and point #2: HAVING TO INTERACT WITH STRANGERS!!!
Oh well, means I got some extra exercise at least. If fate meant me to walk, then surely it means I'm meant to have a big fat takeaway tonight. Why else force me to lose all them calories walking home in the icy cold with no warm eateries open due to being Zombie Jesus day?
¹ OR WAS IT THE SMALL FAKIRS. THEY WEREN'T MIDGETS THOUGH AND NON SPORTED A FEZ. I SUPPOSE THEY COULD BE CALLED MEN WITHOUT HATS... ALTHOUGH THERE WAS NO SAFETY IN THE DANCES THAT GURNING FOOL WAS FLAILING ABOUT WITH! YOU NEED A LOT OF ROOM TO MOD DANCE - MORE EVEN THAN ME!!!
