Early 90's and the then missus and i are off on a coach trip from Cornwall to Paris to see Pink Floyd in the Division Bell tour. Tickets and travel werent bad, not cheap but hey its Floyd in Paris FFS, there is always going to be a bit of a mark up on these all in coach tours.

FF however many hours on the coach and we wind up in some utter shithole of a motel miles from fucking anywhere on the outskirts of Paris, and staffed exclusively by dour faced cunts with sarcastic smirks (what do they have to be so smug about,one wonders). We have about 4 hours to kill before gigtime, so the coach empties into the "bar" (or a bare room with a few patio chairs, fridge and dour faced cunt keeping an eye on it all. Being poor studenty types on a rather restricted budget, we ask for price list before ordering (unlike some of the other table who just steam into a round of beers and munchies) .

as we left having shared a burger and chips, and treated ourselves to a tiny beer each, one of the "tattooed spokespeople" on the other tables was "negotiating" their final bill and informing the staff that, having read the small print, "Tip not included? I should fucking hope not. You are fucking lucky i dont punch your teeth down your throat you robbing froggy cunt"

Turns out that a tiny bottle of "biere d'alsace" type industrial shite was 8 quid a bottle, and that the lamest burger and chips you ever saw with a smear of ketchup on hte paper plate was fucking 20 quid. And the nearest other place you could get some grub or booze was "in town". The beer was actually cheaper at the venue, and you cant say that too often.

All told, the weekend cost 18 yr old me about 400quid. But it still remains one of the finest gigs i ever went to, so fuck it.
(Matty73, Thu 13 May 2010, 16:15, Reply)