PLYMOUTH May 30th
1991
The van was speeding down the M6.
Snoring could be heard from the heaps of sweaty flesh in the back.
Like winter bears in a cave, roadies use each other as pillows, and
sleep
until hunger rouses them.
Probably at Hilton Park.
All hibernate, except for Sandbach, who remains childishly excited
by journeys.
He's 23, still dressed by his mother, and witters about computers,
sex, drugs and nightclubs.
About all of which he knows nothing.
For instance, he's thinks its hip to take 'E', smear yourself
with Vicks,
and dance the night away in soaring temperatures.
To prove his hipness, Bach produces a bottle of Vicks Nasal Spray.
The spray remains stuffed up his porcine snout for the rest of the
journey.
By the time the van reaches Plymouth, Bach is convinced that he is
'on one',
and has to go for a lie down.
The venue is a huge old cinema, reopened just for this night.
(The theory being that it would be impossible to damage the place
further).
After setting-up and soundchecking, the Lads explore.
Deep in the bowels of this crumbling monument to video,
-amidst rubble, rotten timbers and filth,
-they find toilets.
Very old, very dirty toilets, cracked, cobwebbed and still full of
piss from 1976.
Deep orangy urine; thick, pungent piss-
the sort that only exists after 15 years of evaporation.
The snoring Bach is robbed of his Vicks, the bottle is emptied
and re-filled with Chateau de Bog '76.
The Vicks is replaced.
Bach is woken.
He reaches for his Vicks.
He inhales deeply.
Glorious.
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