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Back into the annuals of history for Wanker Wednesday ™ this week as we revisit -


I would say of all the places we played Germany was the strangest .

Not exactly a 'Love / hate' relationship - but it was definitely a mixed bag of nuts .

On the one hand the place always seemed drab, dour and depressing , the journeys uneventful and long , the food terrible and the orderly atmosphere stifling and restrictive.

On the other the audiences were incredible , the bands amazing , the venues killer, booze plentiful and nightlife never-ending.

So you can see - it was easy to outweigh the negatives with a good time usually . .. I mean as long as you didn't die of scurvy in the process , surviving on Jägermeister , pallid motorway service sandwiches and cement flavoured crisps .

We toured there a few times - playing festivals and venues alike - but the one I always think of is the tour supporting Amen .

To be honest we couldn't really have been put with a band less suitable for us to play with ... on paper it might have made sense , but in reality ? - not so much .

Amen were full on Angst and anger , blood letting, violence, screaming and confrontational aural assault - whilst we were like the happy go lucky dopey cousin who arrives late, drunk ,with load of disco tapes , screams 'PAAAAAARRRTYYY!' with a bin on their head before fainting and pissing themselves on the new settee.

Audiences being what they are - Amens were probably a little on the serious side for us .

Naturally then it felt like somewhat of a battle to win them over with our particular brand of good natured filth rock ... it was continually nerve-racking seeing the sea of black t shirts and stony faces of the German contingent of the 'We're not impressed' club every night.

That's why you wanted be 'on your metal' for want of a better expression - to come out fighting at least so you could say 'fuck it - we gave it our best '

I for one took it WAY too seriously - which is why I believe fate saw fit teach me this particular lesson.

One night we came out as usual to our intro music ( the Rocky theme) and I could see already the scowl club was out in full force - folded arms - no smiling - the tough guy cartel - 'Go On - IMPRESS us'

Undaunted I gritted my teeth and thought 'fuck it' and dug in for the explosion of the first bar as the intro faded ... as was so often the way I launched my self into a high posey scissor kick as the song started , screaming my way through the first verse.

And - whatever it was we were doing? - it seemed to be working!

- the scowls had turned to smiles and the black t shirt brigade looked positively cheery at the front - turning to each other enthusiastically then back toward the stage - beaming in fact .

' Well -This is unexpected' I thought as I continued to thrash about and leer over the first few rows .

It was somewhere between this thought and the next song I began to give consideration to the noticeable breeze in the leg department .

The trousers I was wearing were my favourite stage duds - a helicopter pilots jump suit I had nicked from a photo shoot in NY .. I really loved them as they were comfy , had loads of pockets , and , well ?.. they just looked cool .

The drawback to them however was that the crotch had a zip that went practically all the way around your arse ... no idea why? .. I assume helicopter pilots often keep a parachute up there? - or need to shit at great speeds or something? ... no idea .. but there was.

And this zip had now chosen this moment to finally succumb to the enormous stresses it had been put through night after night since I had adopted them - splitting wide open like a huge toothless grin , from belly button to anus , they now billowed in two completely separate parts .

This wouldn't have been SUCH a problem if it were not for the fact - as so often happens on tour - that I had reached the end of the clean knicker cycle .. so ... had taken to the stage 'Commando '

SO now - I'm no longer a lyrical maverick intent on converting the masses -

nope - I'm basically a man ,

exposing himself ,

to a room full of miserable strangers -

to music.

IN retrospect I'm very thankful nobody stuck money between my arse cheeks

In Summary I can confirm few things in life but the following :

1) Dicks NEVER look their best when you are full of adrenaline the chips are down, and you really need the fucker to step up to the mark - they're cunts like that .

2) nobody wants to be brushed by a ball bag when they have paid an entry fee and bought an expensive pint ... its just how people are .

3) You can even get a laugh out of a Goth at a funeral if you show enough of your ass.

4) Even a 30 minute support slot can feel like an eternity in the right circumstances.

5) SOMEBODY needs to go back to the drawing board with the Helicopter pilot pants - how are you supposed to fight a fucking WAR with your dick out??

I like to think that somewhere , someone to this day recalls that horrific incident - sees me prancing about in their memory and then, in their head - in a heavily Germanic accent - says


* No pride was harmed in the making of this memory - that had been fucking kicked out of me years ago by this point

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I think it’s almost like an initiation. Ask any performer who’s been around for a while and they will inevitably have a story that ends with, “….and that’s how I ended up exposing my (insert name of relevant part of your no-no zone) to an audience in (insert usually conservative town/city name).”

God knows it never happens in permissive, unbothered cities. Slings and arrows, my friend. Slings and arrows.

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