EUROPE - BRISTOL, THE GRYPHON

Awake in the Milton, Manchester’s equivalent of the Hilton, to Simon necking Berocca in bed, watching The Bill and listening to a voice note of a 34-second fart. For a moment I have a ptsd flashback of another tour where someone shit the bed in my vicinity. My knuckles throb from punching the bass. I scan the room for a mini bar but there’s none. No breakfast vodka-OJ. Berocca and The Bill it is. 

Shower corners house substantial amounts of black mould. Definitely the Milton. Quick and average Guinness in the pub, sized up by local hardmen (you never seen thrash godz before, mate?) before setting off to Bristol. Headline show, sold out, which is good when the venue is the size of a cupboard. Hooking up later with tour buddies, Maryland madmen Ninth Realm. Hire van has broken headlight and coolant leak, as per. After last year’s exploding tire on the manic autobahn, this ain’t shit. Miserable weather on the road and the mediocrity of the English countryside make for great landscapes to blast Amebix to. It’s Bristol so gonna channel them tonite, which outwardly means occultic biker metalpunk vibes but inwardly means ‘give me cider and glue’. ‘Nobody’s Driving’, least of all me. 

Chaotic shitfaced set. Somehow had room to thrash around in the cupboard. Ben borrowed my HM2 and the feedback screech was wonderful. Thought we did alright but who knows. Tiniest venue and I still managed to unplug my pedals, repeatedly, running around. Strange local custom of mixing Jäger with Monster so I was a nitemare. Shout out to the couple who stood aghast as I dedicated a round to the lads in [REDACTED] but who still gave me key bumps when I asked. Solidarity. 

Ben, Simon and I went across town to the hotel. Wandered the halls a good 40 mins trying to find our room. Went to front desk where they had none of our names. ‘You’re in the wrong hotel lads’. Great. Should have anticipated it, Ben and I always get lost. Couldn’t even find the van at Damnation and it was parked out fucking side. Finally made it to the correct hotel where Simon was so relieved he repeatedly threw his phone against the wall. On my phone, I made a call to my wife, was not in English. Stood outside the hotel this morning, wavering. A woman went past and said ‘You’re really high!’ I was about to say ‘That’s none of your business, lady’ until I realised she was talking to a child sitting atop her shoulders. 

Hometown show tonite, cannot wait to see all the maniacs who will get me out of this physical hell I have wrought upon myself. Coming in hot.