Not all of this will be written chronologically, partly because I can’t really remember it all as it happened and secondly because even if I could it’s better to just go with the flow maaaaan. I’ll try my best though.
One thing that stood out every single day were our fucking accents; especially Derrick’s. When we were in Gainesville people were freaking out thinking he was putting on a voice. English people were equally baffled, probably by some of the “words” used rather than the accent delivering them.
Derrick has his own language. I’m not even joking. He makes words up for things and even we struggle sometimes to know what the fuck he is on about. For example;
- Relentengoo = Relentless Energy Drink
- Gengerbengus = Ginger Beer
- Tengoo = Tea
- Roaster = idiot
- Tezzies = Tesco
- Bengus Dispenser = Cash Machine
- Deece = decent/good/I approve
One of the most common “words“ and my personal favourite is “moich”. I’m not sure if he actually came up with this word but it’s brilliant. It basically means mental/crazy. It can be used to describe everything; a person – “that cunt is moich”; a situation “last night was moich”; just to reflect on life in general “moich” and is usually followed by the word GED. GED is another blog post entirely. It still puzzles me.
I can’t really describe how to pronounce Moich, it’s basically m-o-i which rhymes with “toy” and then the “ch” is a clearing of the throat sound rather than how you would pronounce the beginning of “chicken” or “children”
This scene in Donnie Brasco reminds me of “moich”;
Forget about it is like if you agree with someone, you know, like Raquel Welch is one great piece of ass, forget about it. But then, if you disagree, like a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac? Forget about it! you know? But then, it's also like if something's the greatest thing in the world, like mingia those peppers, forget about it. But it's also like saying Go to hell! too. Like, you know, like "Hey Paulie, you got a one inch pecker?" and Paulie says "Forget about it!" Sometimes it just means forget about it.
The first thing that sticks out in my mind about the Derby show was the venue; it had awesome pictures of some of the bands that had played there in the past. Favourites of mine included Lars & The Bastards, Captain Everything and I think the Lawrence Arms had played there too.
We also got no food from the venue so treated ourselves to some of what would be the worst fucking food I ate the entire tour. I had the most disgusting veggie burger and poor wee Boab was distraught over the state of his spare ribs. He even got a bit of lemon to squeeze over them in the hope of making them better but alas, no dice.
Another memory is the situation with one of our guitars. I say “ours” but it is mine. It’s a spare we keep about in case anything fucks up and we need to use it. It went missing after we played and mysteriously appeared in the boot of one of the other bands we were playing with. I have no idea if this was an accident or something more sinister... Derrick was all for “a tear up” as it is known but common sense prevailed and we bailed without incident.
Stephen Cottrell (“Cotty”) saved us big time on a number of occasions; he’s an old friend of Derrick’s. I had been in his company a few times but hadn’t really spoken to him. He is a fascinating man. He must be about 30, quite small and he has this child like quality to him that makes him seem old and really young at the same time. Weird.
Cotty was awesome enough to let us stay in his house after the Derby show. It was also his birthday. The police had been called earlier in the night and we arrived at the house to a party that was winding down, there were maybe 6-7 people there and they were all drunk as fuck. 3-4 empty Jaeger bottles littered the kitchen whilst every counter top was covered in empty beer bottles. I went upstairs to secure a semi-decent sleeping space with LD and Jonny. A few times during the night various characters popped their heads in, some idiot quoting brass eye being the one I remember. I fell asleep listening to some music (Rancid – Life Won’t Wait) which was a good shout as apparently some partygoers were having quite the time in the bedroom next door. It also helps because Jonny snores like fuck and sleeping is next to impossible if you can hear him. Cobra Skulls decided to sleep in their van after a few beers inside rather than brave the Cotty household any longer.
We were rudely fucking woken up at 8am by the sound of a neighbour kicking off due to a stray beer can near his garden. Apparently he did not want his wife and child subjected to the sight of such debauchery in their cosy little cul de sac on a Monday morning. What a cunt. I think it was probably my fault; whenever we would open the van door (I was next to the door), a stream of bottles and stuff would just come crashing down onto the pavement. After a while we found this really amusing but in suburban England this type of shit was clearly too rock n roll. We also drove past a place called “Slag Lane” which we took great delight from.
Deeker steals things. Not in a malicious way, but he does what he need to in order to get by. Maybe “steal” is a bit harsh, he acquires things and then treats them as his own. For example, He “acquired” a pink sleeping bag from Cotty’s house. He also “acquired” a bottle of alcoholic Gengerbengus from the same house. When confronted with these facts, he would say “What the fuck are youse on about?! I stole this fair and square it’s clearly mine!”
He also can’t keep hold of clothes; our entire van was fucking full of this idiot’s t-shirts for the entire trip. Funnily enough his tobacco, rizzla, lighter and Boofle were always present and accounted for. God forbid something would happen to that precious cargo
We bid farewell to Cotty and made our way to the citeh of Manchester for the next show. We stopped off at Old Trafford to have a look. Old Trafford is the home ground of the world famous football team Manchester United. It was fucking huge, cold and full of tourists. We went into the shop (it was fucking huge too) where man united fans were snapping up replica shirts and just about anything else you could fit a man united logo on. I have no idea why we went but it seemed like the only thing we could think of in Manchester that was a “landmark”. We are cultured as fuck clearly.
We then arrived at the venue about 5 hours before it opened. We sat in the van beside Piccadilly train station which also had the biggest queue of taxis I have ever seen in my life. After a bit we decided to venture out in to Manchester to go have a look. I kind of liked Manchester, it was like a bigger and less shit version of Glasgow. It probably is actually nothing like that to anyone that knows them both but I can’t think of anywhere else right now. We wandered aimlessly looking at stuff and then went to the pub. Actually we went to a record shop which was pretty amazing; Derrick bought some Fucked Up vinyl if I remember correctly.
Derrick, Boab and I are all extremely fond of a game of pool. Derrick would tell you he is by far the best player but that’s fucking bullshit. Boab is quite a nifty little player but I’m sure we can agree the true king of the table is me. We managed to have several games that day and many other days too, sometimes it was just nice to hang out and not have to think about shows or what was awaiting us back home.
Watching Cobra Skulls every night was fucking awesome and I felt extremely lucky to be doing so. They were tight but loose enough to not be too clinical if that makes any sense. They killed it every night and more importantly, they looked to be having a good time and genuinely enjoying each other and the music. Even in Southampton when Devon had food poisoning and had to play sitting down – they were AWESOME DUDE! Tony watching the Simpsons was actually in Southampton now I think of it.