It came, quite fittingly, on 06/06/06, the first time that we had been to the Star and Garter in Manchester, and surprisingly, it was at a jesu show.
I don't know what has made me think of this; maybe it's because that was a really hot, sunny, lazy day, just like today.
Anyway, here's a copy of the post I did on my old blog back then, before we realised that Thee Claw would take us all over the globe and get us into some amazing situations and scary scrapes.
silver's just another gold... when you're bitter and you're old
Had a fucking boss time on Tuesday, St Satan's day.
Met StevO))) early on, and Little M took us to Manchester (via St Helens, but that's another story).
Doing Irish impressions all the way there (I met your man when he was six yors of age, and he invented the forst loighter to born down the forst church in Christendom, then I met his auld feller, qaure lookin bloke he was, so.)
It was a glorious day, and we arrived in Manchester about six, due to the nighmare of trying to navigate using the worst map ever made (I liked it though, it had an inverted pentagram on it), and the fact that it's all a one way system with fucking roads off roundabouts closed off and a fucking motorway right through the middle.
So anyway - we get there and I'm like "That looks like it but it can't be. I don't think it's been open for years that place".
But no, lo and behold - the Star and Garter.
So - Little M drops us off, and we scooted off into the Manchester sun.
(the sun will become an almost as important character in the tale that follows as either me or StevO))), in fact; it was all the Sun's fault).
We walk past the venue, and I'm inspecting the windows for any sort of flyers because I am convinced this is a joke, when StevO))) says;
"Is that what I think it is?"
I look up, not quite sure what to expect (It is the 06/06/06 after all) and see the skinniest, creakiest, smacked up prossy you'll ever see in your life.
So, like the pilgrims in an unholy land that we are, we decide to walk past and "have a blimp".
We're only smack (pardon the pun) bang in the middle of the red light district.
(It wasn't her who snobbed us by the way Ste, it was the one when we left the gig, who decided we must be gay and told us to go to Canal Street because we asked her for directions instead of asking her for the chance to contract AIDS.)
So, as Ste's pointed out the first boozer was sidestepped (this is a trick I learned a long time ago going away to watch Everton - you never go in the first boozer in a foreign city, I just do it automatically now)
So, like the beginning of a joke, Two Scousers walk into an Irish pub in Manchester....
... and the rest goes down as legend.
I haven't drank Guinness for years, (and I don't think I'll need to drink it ever again)
It was like lemo on this day of St Satan.
We walked around for a bit after that because the alehouse only had some stockbrokers in it and it seemed to be made for giants and we were becming more and more comedy Scouse as the ale flowed.
By the time we found our next pub we were in full flow.
Everyone who deserved it (and probably some who don't) were taking a pure ripping (that's scouse for having the piss taken out of them) and the pub had Napalm Death and Iron Monkey on the jukebox.
Our apple cart had arrived, and we were well and truly in the fucker.
So we arrived at the venue, and like I say, we were on top form.
Witty, urbane and well dressed, we took over the alehouse like only we could.
First, we positioned ourselves at the bar, when these two quick witted and sharp tongued lads from Liverpool were soon the attention of every lady, and the envy of every man.
At least that's what we thought; in reality we were sat by the bogs in a boozer that had been shut for ten years and had been burgled just to put this gig on before being knocked down in the morning to make way for a car park.
We tried to bully the promoter to give us a ticket or a stamp so we could go back to the Napalm Death pub, but I think we were the first people who'd talked to him for 5 years and he shit himself a bit, saying that when the doors opened at 730 we could get a ticket then.
"But it's quarter to eight lad what are you on about?"
Anyway - Atavist went on a bit, and a funny thing happened when everyone was too polite to buy any merch.
Not us though.
"Two of them, one of them, and one of those, and two vinyl, wack. Cheers Ace"
(Comedy scouse in the house)
Jesu were absolutely amazing.
The lack of lights meant that I had to use the flash to take photos, and as such they aren't as good as I'd normally like, but I didn't go to take pictures.
A sweltering night in a dark, tiny venue with less than a hundred people there, right at the front, watching my favourite band, as nights out go, this was probably the best thing for a long time.
Only moan I have is that they didn't play "Star", but fuck it, they played "Friends are Evil".
Saw loads more prossys on the way out, came home pissed and skint, but what a night.
We'll have to do it again soon.