Got this year's live music underway with trips to see Kaiser Chiefs, Franz Ferdinand (yes "he" was good Mala) and a Blues singer Lillian Boutte, who played the almost famous Half Moon, in Bishops Stortford (thanks for hooking us up Al, she was as you predicted fabulous).
With Mrs B still busy I managed to talk my friend Kirsty into joining me for the Kaiser Chiefs. I had promised Kirsty that they would be good and they did not disappoint, Ricky Wilson is a brilliant front man but seems to be doing a sort of reverse rock and roll thingy. In general rock stars start of lean and mean ending up getting fat on the excesses that their success brings. Ricky quite frankly started off as a bit of a podge and is gradually working his way towards being a svelte rock god (If rock gods can come from Leeds....), I just hope he not on his way to becoming a latter-day Cliff Richard (I'm sure Cliff has a painting in his attic which is bound to be a dead ringer for John Prescott, Yuck this bit really belongs in the truly ugly section.....).
For Franz Ferdinand it was my friend Sophie who drew the short straw and was on Mr B sitting duties, as once again Mrs B couldn't make it. Brilliant as Franz Ferdinand are, I found it difficult not to think of the lead singer, Alex Kapranos as a young version of Nicky Campbell. It's not that I don't like the said Mr Campbell, I just couldn't shake off the fear that the gig was going to suddenly grind to a halt and be replaced by a Watch Dog special Investigation "How Scots are taking over the media....."
Kirsty almost talked me into going to see Tina Turner but finally realised that almost watching (The available seats were high in the gods at, O2) a Granny (she is after all 69) who should be enjoying free bus trips around London, not wobbling across the O2 stage, is not worth £85, of our rapidly declining pounds.
I think I ended up in a Marjorie Dawes ("What did she say?, no you will have to say it again, I didn't quite get it.......") sketch or possibly an episode of 'Allo, 'Allo at the weekend. Our Italian friend Vinnie organised a meal, to introduce his father to his friends, as he was over from Italy for the weekend. Through a series of misfortunes Big Vinnie ended up sitting next to me. The combination of my non existence Italian, outside of the odd phrase "Mussolini", "Juventus" & "Goooaaalllllllll" (or is that Spanish.....so easy to mix them up) and Big Vinnie, being less than fluent in English, did not make for the easiest of conversation. I found myself saying a sentence, Big Vinnie would just look puzzled - little Vinnie would then step in and repeat exactly what I had said, only with a slight Italian accent. Big Vinnie would then nod sagely and say "Ah Ci". This went on until I started to attempt entire English sentences, with a pathetic attempt at an Italian accent (Mrs B despairs whenever I try and talk foreign, it never ends well). I'm not sure if Big Vinnie started to understand, all I know is it went fairly quiet, especially after I inadvertently mentioned the Pope. Apparently Big Vinnie being a deeply religious Southern Italian Catholic was not amused. My friend Mala decided then and there that she was never going to introduce me to her parents, even if they are in the same room as me, probably very wise.....
I'm officially giving up attempting to be nice (it's a fairly rare event anyway so I guess most people won't even notice). During the Lillian Boutte gig I was being buffeted by a woman who kept trying unsuccessfully to tie her jumper around her waist. I offered to stow her jumper with our coats, at which point she glared at me and grabbed her hand bag from the floor. Misinterpreting her actions I assumed that she wanted me to put the handbag there as well. As I went to take it from her she snatched it away almost knocking the person behind her over.
Woman that I attempted to be nice to - "I don't think so"
Me - "Sorry!"
WtIatbnt - "I know your sort, you will be off out that door before I can even blink"
<Me - "What?"
WtIatbnt - "I can look after my own things thank you very much"
Me - Speechless!
Yet another parp incident in Yoga, this time involving a friend of mine (name withheld for obvious reasons) letting rip a cheek flapper right across my bows. My eyebrows have only just started to recover, worse still, every one else in the room thought that my red face was an admission of guilt, rather than the affect of the after burn ......on the plus side it did resolve some unwanted nasal hair issues, that I had been having recently.
One of the best Football anecdotes I have heard recently involves Cristiano Ronaldo telling Steven Taylor that he was a rubbish footballer, as they left the pitch at half time during the recent Man Utd v Newcastle match. Steven (who has just become my hero) replied "I might be crap at football but at least I'm not ugly" (Bless him it's not Ronaldo's fault that he has not been gifted with the natural good looks of say Peter Beardsley, Carlos Tevez or even Luke Chadwick ....). Christiano's renowned tiny ego and friendly persona was so overcome with gratitude to Stephen, for pointing this out, that he went over to his pram and dug out all his toys. Obviously to share with Steven, how nice......
That's it for another BlackLOG. Don't forget to tune into the"BlackLOG - Historical"