HMHB

Half Man Half Biscuit

Shepherds Bush Empire – Friday 21^st March

Thanks to MM for the (Christmas present) tickets, and for looking after me. At least until he bailed at Oxford Circus to jump onto the Bakerloo, leaving me to do the long Tottenham Court Road Central Line to Northern Line hike unsupervised. Somehow I managed to get on a southbound train and stay awake way past my bedtime and get off before it hit the buffers at Morden depot.

I had a spot of luck, the Oyster card was given the last rites by Padraig (Customer Services) (the badge said), and the balance of twenty-odd quid was resurrected, or, more strictly, reincarnated on Oyster Card II, on successfully supplying the password. Highbury. Football, international language, even spoken in Northern Line ticket booths, then caused a slight delay, as Padraig (fellow Gooner) then had to mercilessly give a huge pile of stick to his oppo (name and designation unknown – badge unseen behind the window not in use pull-down blind), a S***s fan, about last Sunday.

Perfect timing, we were in just as they hit the first chorus of “When the evening sun goes down”.

I shout my obscenities from steeples

But please don't call me a madman

I'm off to see the Bootleg Beatles

As the bootleg Mark Chapman

In the blink of an eye it was two hours later and they were playing encores of 99% of Gargoyles Look Like Bob Todd (one of the best-observed song lines in history) and The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Is The Light of an Oncoming Train).

It was an elderly audience. About 99% male (and 50% gargoyle-resembling), 60% bald (that's 60% in number at least partly bald, not uniformly with just 40% of their hair remaining), 72% speccy, and, I'd guess, judging by some overheard conversations:

“That's off Achtung Bono”

“No. That's off Trouble Over Bridgewater”

“Or is it off Cammell Laird Social Club?”

“Which is the black cover one?”

“That is Achtung Bono...”

and so on, about 80% somewhere on the autistic spectrum.

There were several pairs (pairs? sets? PPE's?) of oven gloves brandished during Joy Division Oven Gloves.

I,

Keep wicket,

For the Quakers,

In my,

Joy Division oven gloves

As you'd imagine a band highly recommended by Bumble Lloyd to be, they're funny, quirky, deeper and spikier than they may appear on the surface, and very, very good at what they do. Jump on the spectrum, get some tickets. They don't play live that often or go on long tours. See them if you can.