I played drums badly in a band for a few years.
It was the usual story of four 20-somethings taking themselves far too seriously and having ideas well above their station, but our friends seemed to enjoy it and so did we, so no harm was done.

One evening before a gig, we were sitting with a couple of mates in a pub, discussing the demo we'd just collectively spent quite a lot of money on recording. We were discussing how many to get pressed, and who to send it to - I had the predictable idea of sending it to a few select but odd choice celebrities like Will Self, and Johnny Vaughn (before his radio shows), and suddenly my mate clicked his fingers and said triumphantly "You want to send it to Jo Wily on XFM - she'll play any old shit!"

Silence.

Ah.

"No ... what I meant was ... " he said, desperately back-pedalling, "I don't think she listens to any of the stuff before she plays it ... " he whined.

I was actually a little bit aroused by the shapes his face made.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 17 Aug 2012, 12:49, 1 reply)

A click
for the last line.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sat 18 Aug 2012, 18:42, closed)