To Blackpool for this extended weekend with my travelling companion. We set off like two intrepid explorers into the bleak wilderness that is The Square, St Annes and from there we caught the number 11 bus to Blackpool. I was attired in a pair of skin tight, pink and black tiger or zebra stripe trousers, a black t-shirt and a pair of size 6 baseball boots. Darcy was looking very dapper in a plain black t-shirt and black bondage pants. The first thing we did when we got to Blackpool was to get some money out and I then went and bought a pair of size 7 baseball boots. Phew! Those size 6’s had been a bit tight. The 7’s were much, much roomier. So much so that I will have to buy some insoles and some thick socks for when I next wear them. Never mind: at least they didn’t pinch my toes. Only Darcy’s allowed to do that – oo-er!
After that we went and got ourselves “banded up” at the Winter Gardens. The bands this year are a very nice matt stainless steel colour. They show off our tans very well indeed. Well, they would if we had one.
Then it was off to the Blue Room for a pint before going to watch the first act we had rather anally ticked off on the programme, Razordog. Razordog were a no show and The Lobotomies stood in for them gallantly, playing a noisy brand of punk. I was so disappointed that Razordog had pulled out (or so we think) that I decided to have a look at the stalls.
We did and I emerged about an hour later with a mini skirt, some fishnets and a new studded belt – bright pink too. I told Darcy that we will need to rip some holes in the fishnets. Fortunately, they are from Marks and I got a twin pack, so I can keep one pair for best.
Back to the Blue Room for another pint. Unfortunately, the Black Sheep was off so I had a Hobgoblin – oo-er again. Darcy had his usual JD, ice and water. He had already received some gentle mocking from the insolent young chappie behind the bar in the Arena in the Winter Gardens but fortunately, the bar staff at the Blue Room are more polite and his request went unremarked. There was a very sweet young lady in the pub this time with a bottle of juice with a sports cap on and a very nice pair of purple docs. We saw her later in the winter gardens with her dad, wearing a punk t-shirt. These punks are getting younger by the year.
3CR, a picture I stole from Stuart Chalmers
The next act we had anally ticked on the programme was 3CR. I might have mentioned this band in passing once or twice in previous blogs. Well, I love them! How many bands berate the audience for not heckling? Boggy is about 8 foot tall from the soles of his boots to the tip of his Mohican (which isn’t red this year) and, to be frank, is a touch big-boned. The songs are great. I think my favourite is “I fell in love with a minger” but “What a carry on” comes a very close second. Boggy is a good impressionist; at least he does great impressions of Kenneth Williams and Frankie Howerd. The music is loud and obnoxious, just the way I like it, and the gigs or sets are over way too fast. We did get an encore out of them and in the tight schedule they have at Rebellion, that is good.
We had a few more drinks and a couple of reunions with friends from previous years and one of Darcy’s colleagues from work. Somebody in the bar said he recognised me but did not know where from. The feeling was mutual. Some time later, I remembered who he was. We had travelled up to Blackpool from Preston on the same train in 2006. At that time, he had a tag on his ankle and I remember being amused about it. He was a nice bloke too and very friendly (but not in that way). Hopefully we’ll bump into each other again this year and I can remind him where we’ve met.
Pink Hearse
The last band we saw was Pink Hearse, an all-girl band. The lead singer, Nikki Hearse, is slightly reminiscent of Siouxsie Sue but with pink hair. I can’t say where they stand in my pantheon of punk; I was a tad drunk by the time I saw them AND I’d had a KFC, so I wasn’t at my best, but I would definitely see them again. Maybe next time I can make my mind up a little better.
After Pink Hearse, it was back to the bar for another half of Fosters (not good but better than the bitter on offer in the Winter Gardens). I was a bit tired now and I really couldn’t be bothered with any more bands, so we caught the bus home. Once home, I tried on my new skirt and fishnets to see how I look and I don’t think I look too bad in them for a 45 year old. I definitely know what I’m wearing today if the sun continues to shine.
No Straps this year, which is a shame, because I was a huge fan of them back in 1980, when I was still a sprog, and became one of their most loyal fans again in 2006, when I discovered Jock and Dave had reformed the band with some new band members. Jock tells me they are gone for good, which still brings a tear to my eye, two days after I found out. I will still be able to see a whole host of bands I love, though. There’s still Middle Finger Salute, Outl4w, Anti Nowhere League, Goldblade, UK Subs (original line-up – Way Hey!), The Duel, Chas & Dave (last year’s highlight), Cockney Rejects and the prospect of seeing the Rezillos. Oh and a whole host more.
I can’t wait!
Growing Old Without Dignity 