New Cross

The trains were screwed - it took three hours to get there - there was no drum kit and all was chaos. Just how we like it. And from the chaos we forged a mighty noise. A kit arrived. Dave attacked it. He pushed it and beat it. Now and again he pushed it away and abandoned it, wandering back to give it another vicious beating. Mills was on the floor, his guitar cast aside it rage and disgust. And through it all the bass kept pounding and Jack kept ranting - screaming, crying and roaring into the crowd.
People cheered, they clapped. Some even danced.
So that was New Cross. Next stop Islington. You owe it to yourself to be there...