This weekend saw the return of Out Of Spite – an annual mini-festival held in Leeds around August time where many bands wot I like play music and people drink and be merry and the cunt-to-not-cunt ratio is heavily in favour of the non-cunty variety, which is nice.
It has been cut down from two-and-a-half days to one-and-a-half but, you see, that’s actually a Good Thing. Sunday was often a bit of a bust, plus it helped with not having to take a superfluous ‘travelling home’ holiday day from my allowance.
Yeah, it’s all about me.
Anyway, let’s list some things that were good about Out Of Spite XII, apart from pretty much all of it:
-A Page Of Punk are my new favourite thing, though I can’t see them being particularly great to listen to on record. A fecking tour de force live, though. Onetwothreefouronetwothreefour!
-Bangers were bangin’, as always. Shout-sang so hard my throat has been absolutely killing me today, which I consider a victory.
-Football against a group of local Hyde Park youths which was both a) surprisingly good-natured and b) brilliant because we won. Oh, and secret reason c) because (I genuinely hope he’s alright) Alex took one of the worst/best hits to the face from the ball I have ever seen in my life. Game-ender, it was. Still, 9-8 to the old men.
-Well Wisher(s?) singing one verse of one song in a Bane voice made me laugh more than it had any right to.
-The band from Norwich whose name I’ve forgotten’s fantastically quaint, and hilarious, between-song patter. “You did really well there.” “Really? Thanks, that’s nice of you to say.” So simple, yet so funny.
-Having a couple of good, long, satisfying fraps on the way there and back.
-FETCH THE MOUNTAIN DEW YOU LITTLE BITCH
-Seeing those faces again – I can’t claim to have been to OOS from day one, with my first one being 2005, but it is a tradition and a fun one. I don’t know everyone, but I recognise so many, and it’s just nice to have that familiarity. And nice to see everyone ageing so well, going grey, looking a bit more haggard and (gulp) bringing their kids along. Kids. Mental.
-Renting a green car with racing stripes.
-Actually getting a bed to sleep in.
-For Milloy’s last ever gig getting to be the figure of mockery for Jim, the singer. Honoured, it has to be said, and not in the slightest bit embarrassed, much as that may confuse Dan.
-Promising male nudity.
-Getting male nudity.
There’s so much more I can’t think of. I realise this is an empty list of nothing to those who weren’t there, but so what? You talk about shit I don’t care about all the time. My turn now. This has been an excellent weekend. GOOD WORK ALL.