Pressure Point on Wednesday 7th Dec

So we're playing our final, pipe-clearing, chicken-strangling, face-down full-fat Cable-Club farm-boy-blowout LAST GIG'O'THE YEAR at the Pressure Point, on Wednesday 7th December. It's £4/£3 in.

The lineup makes me scratch with joy. First up is Assistant, an "odd, awkward pop group" who do a nice line in muso-politico-geekbloggery - no idea what the music is like, so why not turn up early enough to find out?

Then there's Boxer, who as The Mighty 590 supported Bloc Party and The Others, and got reviews like this from Drownedinsound:

Thank the lord then for THE MIGHTY 590, who aside from being the only band whose efforts roused any type of moshpit action, also looked like they were the only band on show that hadn’t studied what’s cool and what’s not, and instead concentrated on that one ingredient severely lacking from a lot of today’s overrated and overpaid wannabe heroes – entertainment.

In frontman Ross McDonough, they possess a five foot tall pocket dynamo whose onstage behaviour veers between that of rock star, stand-up comedian and Olympic gymnast. All at the same time.

And of course, they've got the tunes, of which there are plenty.

And then, well, there's us. We have some new songs, and some old songs, and we'll play them for you.

Stop going on about that BLOODY jock-strap

Today I am happy, as I realised I played the Omar benefit gig last Saturday without the aid of my friend the jock-strap.

I am experiencing a tremendous feeling of closure, which my dear bandmates will no doubt be ecstatic to hear, as it may mean I'll stop talking about my bloody private parts at every. Available. Opportunity. I'm not promising anything, though.

Aah... one last go, for old time's sake.

To: Republic of Heaven
Date: Sat, 10 Sep 2005 09:58:56 +0100
Subject: [Fwd: FW: Re: re;flyers for cable club gig at venue.....]

...

On a more cheery note - I'm still walking like a crippled cowboy, and probably still will be on Wednesday. So... I know this sucks, but does anyone fancy giving me a lift, and a hand with equipment on this hallowed rehearsal day? I reckon I could handle my bass, but there's no way I'm getting that amp down my front steps without ripping my testes in half.

God it's like I've had a sort of easy-open slot added to my gonads. "Pull here to open". Most unpleasant. Also, I woke up from the op wearing a blood-stained jock-strap, which apparently I have to leave on for at least a week. Looking inside that for the first time after waking up was, I think, the most traumatic moment of my young life. At least I was in the toilet, so I had somewhere convenient to vomit.

I can heartily recommend never having this particular operation, by the way. I think I preferred having an enormous nad. For about the first hour after waking up, I felt like someone had my left testicle in a nutcracker. No wonder I kept throwing up. They wouldn't give me any pain relief til I'd properly come round from the anaesthetic - "try and have a little sleep". "YOU come and try having a f'ckin sleep with your balls in a vice," I wanted to say... but there were only female nurses, and I didn't think they would relate.

*And* they shaved my thigh, which I didn't notice til yesterday. I'm still waiting to find if they tattooed me somewhere.