Hi!
The girlfriend and I went to Fabric tonight to see the wonderful pair that make up The Presets.
I have never been to Fabric before, and after tonight, I don't think I will ever go again.
First off, when we were ushered into the special line for people who thought about attending the show more than 12 hours beforehand (and thus already had tickets) we were scanned and essentially pushed into another line for what I can only assume was the coat-check which meant that the CD I had been promised on booking my ticket was never to be seen, held or heard. Ever.
We wandered and wondered around (trying to find the set times) and settled in to Room Two to see Heartbeat (no information on them at present) who were possibly a lot of fun. Then we wound out way back to Room One to see ladyhawke who were the early highlight of the night.
Then, after a quite good DJ set, The Presets came on. And so did every wanker and cunt in the club. Especially Mr Collar-Up elbow dancer who decided I was fair game for a fight and spent the first couple of Preset's songs trying to get me to fire up and smack him one. The girlfriend was clearly scuttled by this and wanted nothing more to do with him, the music or the venue.
So, in order to fuck that noise, we walked. We grabbed a cab and headed back to our temporary homebase where we seethed at how one thoughtless fucking shit could ruin what had the makings of a very memorable (in a good way) night.
So, in summary, Fabric + The Presets + Wankers = Total waste of time, money, shoe leather and effort.
I just hope I can forgive The Presets for having such terrible taste in fans.
-3z
P.S. Possibly the highlight of the evening involved a late night quiz game and some sad sod who called up, and after chatting to the busty hostess and being asked to answer the current question just said "...want to come on your face". Brilliant television there.
Hi!
I am in a pub that I think is called "The Three Crowns" with a whole bunch of estrogen that the girlfriend met up with via her own vox account.
So far, things have been very civil, but I fear that if I drink any more I will end up making fun of people I should not make fun of. Or hit on. Or something.
Earlier in the evening I met up with one of my Internet heroes, but the silly cunt shaved off his one defining feature (his beard) which meant that I totally didn't notice him when he walked past me. We did end up catching up and sinking many a pint, which was nice, but didn't get to spend enough time together for him to get truly sick of me.
This post brought to you by peer presure.
Hail to the king, baby.
-3z
