Wanters Not Needers

It’s been awhile. I’m 95% moved, 99% exhausted. The people who say that moving house, after bereavement and divorce, is the most stressful experience available to man obviously haven’t lived adventurous lives, but it sure is a bitch and no mistake.

I consider myself an expert at moving, this being my 11th in as many years. Fortunately, I try to never own more stuff than can fit into ten archive boxes, music equipment and consumer durables aside. It’s all stacked up at my girlfriend’s place, and I am a free man, untrapped by circumstance and unhindered by the practical considerations of an adult existence for the forseeable future. I’d feel smug, were it not for the councils, utility companies, letting agents and travel clinics that will be kicking my ass for the next couple of weeks.

To reduce the strain, me and Amardeep went to see Doug Stanhope at the Leicester Square theatre. He instructed reviewers and bloggers to write only nice things about him, so that when he’s alone in a hotel room, lonely and vulnerable, mixing vodka with yoghurt and googling himself in search of love and affection, he isn’t driven to terminal despair by some jackass with a high opinion of his own opinion. I’m happy to oblige – he’s well worth checking out.

Although not a comedienne, the sloaney horse-faced retard I was sat in front of provided me with some bemused laughter as she yelled her posh voice into her mobile phone for the first couple of minutes of Doug’s set.

‘Yah, yah, he’s started. We’re, like, near the bar, yah? Yah, yah, we just got here, yah.’
‘Jesus CHRIST, is she fucking REAL?’, I holler, emboldened by Duvel.

She was indeed real, and not parodying Dom Joly in the slightest. People are such douches.

Perhaps inspired by Doug’s near-inebriation, we worked our way through several bars in the west end, after which I have only vague recollections of perhaps my final night bus to docklands.

I felt as fresh as a sea breeze the next day, in time to see the Wildhearts play their 15th anniversary show at Shepherd’s Bush Empire. I saw them the first time around when they were of the zeitgeist. Guitar music that was both heavy and poppy was something of a novelty in those days. Those days. Shit, I must be old.

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3 Responses to Wanters Not Needers

  1. stanhope says:

    see…

    only now I’m sober with just the yogurt in Manchester. But the sentiment is the same.

    thanks

    stanhope

  2. mieke says:

    i just stopped feeling special. ūüė¶

  3. recoder says:

    don’t worry, there’s plenty of doug to go round.

    this is a link both funny and relevant.

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