Ok…so, picking up the story. I’ve just played the worst gig of my life, I’ve got Panda make up on and I’m feeling like the prize berk.
Luckily for me things were about to get whole lot worse.
*I should point out around now that the timeline of this story will not be entirely accurate because I have a notoriously bad memory and one extreme incident blurred into the next one. Suffice to say…everything I’m about to tell you did all happen at some point or another in quick succession. The exact order is not terribly important*
Right…where was I? Oh yeah…so the gig from hell was finally over and our bedraggled bunch of inebriates began to wobble our way to the hotel. My spirits began to lift somewhat when the head of our course squared up to one of the students for a bit of handbags at dawn action once we’d left the club. Luckily for him though, the fight was broken up before “the student”….let’s call him Big Kev….had a chance to “give him a slap”.
Shortly after that, Big Kev and a couple of other “musicians” decided that a sing-a-long was called for. It was all going rather well until a bucket of water was launched at their head by an Italian Mama who was less appreciative of their caterwauling.
Still…so far so good. The squaring up, the water, and a few knocked over Vespa’s were really starting to take the attention away from my abysmal performance.
And then we got back to the hotel.
Everybody was in high sprits…and by that I mean…everybody was banjaxed.
An impromptu party was taking place in one of the bands bedrooms and me and Hud decided to go along and join in the fun. As far as I recall it was a 4 bed room and there was maybe around 15 of us in there, jumping around and making a bit of a racket. Nothing particularly unusual there. In fact, because nothing particularly interesting was happening, we didn’t stay too long and headed back to our room to terrorize our OCD bass player instead, before eventually passing out for the night for a much-needed kip.
*approximately 3 hours later*
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR YOU C*NTS!
It was the head of our college course….let’s call him Adam
“WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU PAIR DONE THIS TIME?”
Me and Hud peer out from under our covers and look at each other sheepishly. We have literally no idea what we’ve done this time, but are perfectly prepared that we might have done “something”.
“THEY’RE CALLING THE FUCKING POLICE! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED SOMEBODY!”
Now we’re awake
“HOW DID YOU GET THE FUCKING BED OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW IN THE FIRST PLACE?”
“…..er…..we’re in our beds Adam….been here all night (well…three hours anyway)…..what the fuck are YOU talking about?”
“So if it wasn’t you two…who the fuck was it?”
It turns out, that after we’d left the party, things started to get a tad out of hand. In particular, there were two blokes whose names escape me now, largely due to how utterly normal and unassuming they were in real life. Seems that as the night dragged on, their inner Rock God’s started to emerge and somewhere between six and seven am they decided it would be a jolly good hoot to throw their wardrobe out of their 6TH STOREY WINDOW ONTO THE BUSY CITY CENTRE STREET BELOW JUST AS EVERYBODY WAS GOING TO WORK!
Unfortunately for them, the stupid wardrobe wouldn’t fit out the window, so instead they went with plan B.
And so it was that those commuters lucky enough not to be standing directly underneath its path, saw a steel frame bed flying in a graceful arc through the early morning Italian sky and landing on the back of a small hatchback car parked on the opposite side of the street…..taking the entire back-end of the car out in one almighty crash (turns out the body was made from fibreglass).
Not content with that. The Keith Moon-lites then proceeded to throw out the mattress, duvet and accompanying pillows….before….and this is the best bit…..finishing off the proceedings by launching their FUCKING HOTEL ROOM KEY onto the pavement for good measure.
After this bit of tomfoolery, they all went to bed….albeit with one of them curled up on the floor where his bed used to be, until the hotel manager arrived….brandishing a pillow and a room key he’d found on the pavement.
And then it got a whole lot worse…
but I’ll leave that for part 3.