Useless.
n. (y00slis)- no help or service, not useful, incompetent,
good for nowt (MED)
The dressing
room was two storeys above the concert room. The Lads had to squeeze
their way through a tightly packed crowd, clutching guitars, towels,
drinks, and setlists.
Two songs in, the Beater breaks a B string, and changes to the spare
guitar.
He shouts to Barrel:
"Get me strings from the dressing room!"
Naturally the Pakki had forgotten to bring them...
... And what was the chance of breaking two strings anyway?
A roadie should be capable of restringing a guitar, changing a fuse,
setting up a kit,
loading a PA, fixing an amp, or at least carrying heavy things.
But Barrel was useless.
So, should a string break on the spare guitar, Beater would change
it himself,
and Muttley would fill in with jokes, banter and abuse for a few
minutes.
Six songs in. Beater breaks another B.
Chat, banter, jokes, abuse; no Barrel; no strings.
The Lads play another song which doesn't require too many notes
on the B string.
Chat, banter, jokes, abuse; no Barrel, no strings.
Play another song which doesn't... etc.
Chat, banter. Oh, fuck this, get the crowd to help....
Crowd: "Hurry up you fat cunt!!"
Nothing.
Crowd: "Come on, you fat twat!!!"
Muttley: "Do I hear the rumble of distant flesh?"
Crowd: "Husshhhh"....
Nowt.
Crowd: "You Fat Bastard! You Fat Bastard!"
Fuck it. The
Lads finished the gig as best they could,
and fought their way back through the back slappers.
Sweaty, exhausted,
borted in gob and bodily fluids,
the Lads arrived in the dressing room.
At large, alive and sitting, clean and shiny, fat and smoking, is
Barrel.
"'Ere y'are" squeaked Barrel, handing a pint to the Beater.
The three lads are speechless and boiling with anger:
"Where the fuck have you been you useless fat cunt!?"
Barrel, perplexed, replied: "I did like he told me.
I took his drink to the dressing room."
Useless fat cunt.
