A cut above yer average Working Mens' Club, this venue on Saturday - lovely stage, lighting, dance floor, the works. Distinct lack of punters though, as is always the way when everything else is right...
We could have done without one particular punter though - quite the drunkest woman I've ever clapped eyes on (and that's saying something) staggered up to the stage while we were soundchecking to inform us how pissed she was. We'd guessed. I assumed she'd slide quietly beneath a table or be carried out before we started, but no - the lady wanted to dance...
I cocked up several songs due to fits of giggles as she repeatedly bounced off the edge of the stage, fell over on the dancefloor and crawled away on all fours, only to return for more. In between, she made a noise like a baboon with Tourettes' syndrome.
We kind of assumed she was a local 'character' who did this every week, but one of the locals sidled up to Chris in the break and asked: "Is she with you?" No! She isn't! Sure enough, at the end of the night she was poured into a taxi bound for Wells. I hope she had £50 to cover the valeting charge...
We're booked back here on the 23rd, a fortnight's time, so we must have gone down well. Chris had asked someone from the Glastonbury Festival down, but she didn't show this time, so maybe... oh. Oh dear. I really hope it wasn't...
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