Stockport, England
Stockport, England
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| 22/09/08Well, my little loves.. It's been a while, but I'm suitably irritated to get off my lazy arse and defend our much loved little combo. As we're not in the business of maligning people without letting them know, all of what follows has been sent by email to The Griffin in Newton-le-Willows this evening. Here's what got sent:- Bill and Andy, Someone (another landlord who books us for gigs elsewhere) brought the content on your website to my attention earlier and so because people do read what you put on there and it is damaging to our band's reputation, I've posted the following on our website this evening by way of a response. I've no interest in getting into a slanging session as it gets out of hand and doesn't serve anyone any good purpose. I have to say however that I'm genuinely sorry you felt the need to put what you have on your website as I thought we knew each other better than that. All of this email is posted. I'm indebted to my chum 'Gentle' "Jesus Christ!!!" John for pointing out a little observation made about us on the website for The Griffin at Newton-le-Willows. Now before we go any further, I'd like to point out that we've always found Andy the landlord, who books the bands, and Bill, who does the website, to be most agreeable and nice to work for. The words 'dogfight', 'kennel club', 'arrange', 'in', and 'couldn't' might fairly be rearranged and used however to describe the arrangements there. Regular surfers will note that the first paragraph of their news page (see it from our Links page - they've rather petulantly removed the link to here from their site) opens with an apology to us for mistakenly slagging us off on their website for a no-show when we had in fact cancelled in plenty good time beforehand. So their fault, not ours. By way of apology, Andy said 'oops, sorry!' and gave us a further gig which we put in our band diary. Although both Arnie and I do bookings, we have only one band diary. It has Pete's shifts for the year in it (we're only available three weekends out of four); who is on holiday and when; my birthday - that sort of stuff. It's not complicated but then we're simple kind of guys and so it works for us. It ensures we don't take bookings we can't do, and don't get booked twice in one evening (like that's going to happen - Ed). On the afternoon of the 'oops, sorry' gig my pal Paul phoned in the late afternoon and asked if we'd changed our name as we were not the band advertised on The Griffin website. A quick call to Andy revealed that Bill had booked the other band and Andy didn't have contact details for them. We'll gloss over the fact that we had sent posters for the gig which had somehow been "mislaid". So, as the other band couldn't be contacted, we backed down trusting Andy's promise that there would be a further gig. So yet another cock up. And for a second consecutive time, their fault, not ours. (Do you see at pattern developing here?). Andy was most apologetic and promised to call me back. He never did. Nor did he call Arnie. At least not until last Saturday evening:- Arnie's mobile: "Ring ring. Ring ring". Today, their gig list entry for last Saturday, 20th September, shows in big red letters "Casual Ties - never turned up, not even a phone call". (I'm not repeating it on here in big red letters as it's so tasteless). Was this a psychics evening perhaps? We have never done one, and if we were supposed to then I guess we'd know by some mysterious and magical means. Perhaps an owl would appear like in Harry Potter?! Other than that, or if our psychic powers are weak (mine are particularly strong as it happens but Pete's are rubbish - he doesn't even know what he's having for tea) we'd usually rely on perhaps a telephone call or maybe an email? It's not particularly creative, but it is effective. Certainly beats thought transference as a dependable means of communication. We don't however EVER confirm a booking without checking the diary. Reference to our band diary shows that last Saturday: 1. Pete was working nights. That's been in the diary since early January. 2. Arnie was on holiday. Jersey. Nice. That's been in the diary for months. 3. We didn't have a drummer booked (we still don't have a permanent one, but our deps are better than most bands' regular drummers. Do apply if you're any good.) I can turn out a fair solo set, but it's a bit girly-arsed and not really Griffin material, so I think I can safely say that they didn't tell us about it. Interestingly enough, Pete and I did a private gig the following evening (and before anybody gets all het up, railway shifts change on Sundays) with a dep bass player and drummer from another band that also plays The Griffin. They've been double booked there too, except that they didn't find out until they arrived. It's strangely reassuring to know it's not just our gigs you mess up on. So for the third successive time this is your cock up, not ours, yet you have the unmitigated temerity to write bad things about us on your website! IN BIG LETTERS!! IN RED!!! (See, I said it looked tasteless). This is hugely disappointing from our point of view as you've always been good guys to deal with, if a little poorly organised. But here's the upshot: we can't be pissing about with people who can't work a diary. The last two gigs you've advertised (one of which you actually had the decency to tell us about before booking someone else) I've had phone calls from people who have turned up at The Griffin see us, and we don't like letting our fans (yes, there are some!) down. Putting this together with the fact that we might end up turning gigs down because we've confirmed with you only to find you've screwed up yet again, then I think it best that we agree not to book each other any more. In the meantime I think you should organise yourselves better and stop blaming other people for your shortcomings. You really have got a bloody cheek. I'd like to hope you will at least have the decency and integrity to publish this on your website side by side with your criticisms of us. Steve. Ok, it's just you and me now. Phew, glad I got that off my chest. But you can only take so much you know? Plans are proceeding apace for New Year's Eve when your favourite band will be wowing the crowds at The Bakers Vaults again. It's all a bit secret and apparently some Chinese disco disaster has put the malkie on some of the more pyrotechnic visions, but nevertheless Mister Sam and I have got more plots on the go than the Labour front bench. There wil be guest artistes (for the avoidance of doubt these will be unpaid except for what you can blag off Sam), shiny lights, beer and bonhomie. I was going to say that tickets are limited but you'd know I was making that up. More soon. Pinkie promise. 16/04/08Curses! Just when it was all going so well the curse of The Ties strikes again! Hot on the heels of the world's worst ever legislation (the smoking ban) comes the demise of Atherton's Glass Barrel, as run by the very lovely John & Caz. Have a look at their website (see 'Lynx' page) for more details, or just blame the government and have done with it. Now, see whereas your acne-spattered oxygen-thieving waste of a life consists of visiting the same pub week-in, week-out, our glamourous rock star lifestyle affords us the opportunity to be adored throughout the north west. So instead of shuffling miserably outside The Glass Barrel in the rain with your nose pressed against the window wondering how it all came to this, why not consult our 'Gigs' page and see where you can catch The CTs? Curse #2: Well, not this Friday at The Town Hall Tavern then. The lovely Paula calls me to say that Fridays haven't been working as well as she'd hoped so our forthcoming gig is pulled. Still got the Sunday one in June though. Curse #3: And not on 10th May at The Ryecroft either. But that's because it's landlord Scott's brother's wedding. He offers us 31st May instead but we can't do that. Hang on! Mammon comes up on the rails to announce the total demolition of the place in June. They're going to built some flats apparently. Just what the world needs. There's a bunch of overpriced rabbit hutches in the middle of Cheadle which can't be given away at the moment. What's going on? Curse #4: Stockport NHS Trust informs me that due to unforeseen circumstances I can't go to Doc Downton's Rehab Clinic (no, really) on 3rd June. The letter's dated 11th April which is actually quite, er, "foreseen" if you think about it. Anyways, you're probably not as bothered about that as I am, but if you want something cancelled/closed/failed/knocked down, why not invite The CTs over...?! Magic! ...Which is what they've done at The Crown (under the viaduct) in Stockport. The highly recommended (it says here) CasualTies have been retained for a couple of outdoor gigs at the back of this esteemed establishment in the summer. Summer? It's going to pour down isn't it? Don't let the bass player near the beer or we're all doomed... What else? Ah yes. First gig at The George & Dragon in Cheadle goes well despite wretched weather. Cookie happy. Free beer for band. Band happy. Impromptu acappella performance of Ted Dicks & Miles Rudge's 'A Windmill in Old Amsterdam', originally performed by Ronnie Hilton but you probably better remember the Freddie (who used to sit behind my mum at school as drivelled on about elsewhere on this site) & The Dreamers version. So farewell The Glass Barrel, and big respect to John for keeping the music going. A mouse lived in a barrel, so snug and so nice Yes, alright, but we don't play anywhere called The Windmill..... 29/01/08I have news, dear readers, but I fear it is far too sad to impart to your sensitive souls without an attack of the vapours ensuing. Suffice to tell there is a wave of sadness in the camp so for the time being content yourselves with the rash of new gigs and venues on the 'Gigs' page. Sniff, sob... 24/10/07We have long-since welcomed the ailing Dave The Gnome back to the vertical world so that's quite enough about him. Today however, ex soundman Pen is in Mauritius (and has not yet been blown up, unlike the bar he was in last week!) via South Africa and the USA! Current soundman Chrissy is in pain having fallen off a roof. Photos of Chrissy's agony will be up here shortly. Close followers of Chrissy's pelvic movements will be thrilled to learn that all will one day be well. But probably not this week... I am in my den with my new friend, Zoltan. Recent gigs at The Werneth and Ryecroft Arms leave the virgin crowds jolly well disposed towards The CTs and requiring, how should I put this, "more of the same". Of course, having let these new folks peep up our musical frock it is, as ever, 'give us a call when we've got next year's diary' and we slope off, feeling used and dirty. Pah! The Rock Doctors (the rock dude around town's very own 'Cheeky Boys') managed to trounce our 'who's played the latest ever at The Bakers on a regular Saturday' record by a clear 15 minutes last Saturday. On offering him out for a fight, Loz, their gentleman guitarist, confesses that they started later because of the rugby so it doesn't count. Ha! Richard Thompson and Pete Zorn are the latest in the list of famous folks to make my acquaintance - this time at The Bridgewater Hall in Mancland. What a nice pair of chaps. Although Thommo was once named as one of Rolling Stone's top 100 guitarists of all time (he was 19th as it goes) they only played until about twenty past ten which places him firmly in the 'Big Girl' category if we employ the widely acknowledged Bakers Vaults "who plays latest" criteria. My little girl and I minced by The White Hart in Cheadle the other week where a spotty faced youth haughtily introduced himself as the new landlord. I have seen older tadpoles, but nevertheless I wish to show him live video footage of The CTs playing at a prestigious gig from my iPod in order to secure a booking for our top ensemble. The callow oaf prefers that I send him a cd as he is currently very busy (authoritatively sipping a girl drink whilst gawping out of a side window up Cheadle High Street from a comfy chair with no customers in evidence). Crestfallen, I repair to the car park to explain to my equally dismayed nine year old daughter that the misguided dunce is a vulgar buffoon ill-suited to the service of the splendid proletariat. She concurs, pronouncing him a clueless tit whom she trusts shall shortly be out of business. I shall not be patronising this venue under any (except paying) circumstances. And Boddingtons is rubbish anyway these days. If I lived in these environs I should attend the very superior Ryecroft Arms for their splendid Hydes beer and outstanding line in entertainments. 17/08/07Following my exhortations below, many landlords have indeed sacked the crappy-same-old in favour of ourselves, simply crappy-old. Whizzy new gigs at The Werneth Arms in Oldham (this Saturday!) and The Ryecroft Arms in Cheadle Hulme in September, which I fear may be a little posh for the likes of us. (Cheadle Hulme, not September). Still, I used to drink under-age in The Ryecroft (course, it was The Conway then) a year or two back when Fat Ron had it and Dave The Gnome was but a fresh faced pot boy. 27/07/07Following some fine tuning of my installation with a Chopper (see 'A Man of the...' 10/05/07 below), I can once again update this unutterable cack from the comfort of my parlour so updates should become rather more regular than of late. Cheers Chrissy! Ex soundman Pen is in Nairobi. Told you so. Elkie Brooks met me last Wednesday which was too late to be in the new video but never mind. What a very friendly nice lady, but then we Salford folk are - ask any local policeman. She's very petite but blimey can that woman sing! There was this stage door Johnnie outside who wanted her to autograph his chest so's (and I swear this is true) he could have it tattooed on him the next day. The nutter. Due to the recent births/marriages/near deaths of various members of the band over the last year our Gig list only currently has five listed (although I might have mislaid one in Northwich in October?). This could be the time to review your diary for the remainder of the year, sack the crappy bands that you have on far too often and that your punters are always moaning about, and book a class act. If you can't get a class act then we'll probably be available. Corks! That worked quick! A new gig pops up for us in Altrincham at The Wheatsheaf in January 2008. We shall not however be forsaking those very nice people at The Market Tavern (although being able to get a beer after the gig wouldn't hurt anybody really, would it?). Released in direct competition with the new Simpsons movie, Mister Bat moves straight into the big league with some right big name stars in the new Mister Bat video (shot on location in Vienna, mind) which is accessible via the Lix page. Be sure to watch right to the very end. Don't forget to leave a comment. Discontent with my idleness, the smallest and most cantankerous bass player in the world decides he can do it better himself via his own myspace site. See Lynx page for details. It's accurate in most respects except for the bit which says he has a friend. You people in Barrow-in Furness! Geoff!! Shouldn't you be working on the defence of the realm instead of wasting the taxpayer's wedge (like I'm a taxpayer - ha!) on this drivel. These submarines won't build themselves you know. Where have we been? We went to The Talbot in Burnley the other week. Which was nice. And The Glass Barrel where we played to a record number of punters (for us) but could no longer smoke whilst playing. In consideration of Mister Bat's ever-wonkier state of mind we may be dividing future gigs into a number of ten to fifteen minute sets to enable the number of fag breaks allowed by law to be taken. Let's see if I can get this up... 10/05/07Interest expressed in the band following cancellations from The Rose & Thistle in Burnley, The White Hart in Cheadle, and The Town Hall Tavern in Eccles. We couldn't do any of them but they all said they'd phone back to book a proper gig. Astonishingly, none of them have so if you're a regular in any of these hostelries why not undertake to poop in the pissoir (or some similar protest) until the landlord agrees to delight you, his customers, with Stockport's hottest wok combo. In the meantime watch out for us not doing a gig near you soon! Sound bloke. It is with many tears that we have parted company with our soundbloke, Pen. Pen (pictured on Christmas card on Home page) runs his own business and is away a lot. He's picked up lots of new work lately and can't guarantee being back for gigs on Fridays, and maybe even Saturdays. So we say "Bugger. Cheers for all the graft mate and hope to see you for a scoop at a gig real soon". A Man of the... Picking up the mantle of "Cloth"
("cloth ears" see? Geddit?) is a gent who is a long standing (and
occasionally swaying) chum of The CTs, Chris "Chopper" Critchley. Why Chrissy?
Well, he stays up late drinking dirty beer and is usually ok for a tenner when
you've used up all your beer tokens. For some of Chrissy's expert rantings see: In either case do a text search for "Critchley" and up he'll pop like the little jack-in-the-box he is - see the reviews page for details of Chrissy's instant impact on Stockport's gay community. However, and let's be clear about this, although he's obviously written in to 'Women's Hour' (the big tart), Chrissy, in common with all The CTs, only ever hides the sausage ethically and in line with the teachings of The Lord. Whilst we don't have a problem with the direction people choose to garden behind closed doors, The CTs neither condone nor encourage the pushing of trumps, cackpipe cosmonauting or banditry of any description (with the exception of our fee structure). Furthermore, for the avoidance of doubt, the Chris Critchley who is the club leader of the Valley Stream Green Hornet Youth Wrestling Club is a different Chris Critchley and not ours at all. It's in New York for a start. Anyways, I've got a speech to write, so that'll have to do for today. 26/03/07News? Not a lot really so let's make some up. Arnie's now back from
his world tour and Dave's due to become a dad tomorrow (which is why we haven't
been passing among you lately). The White Hart in Cheadle call me on the phone
to see if we will brighten their lives with a personal appearance, but we won't.
Another time we will though. My newfound solitude here in CTs central (see home
page for outline detail) presents me with a great deal more space which I have
filled with items of public address equipment in various stages of repair. I
think it looks great although the chap who came to value my little cave the
other day was less convinced, inviting me to 'hide it when people come to view'.
The tart. Now if he'd suggested a house fire.... 19/12/06Cut the bleating emails out! I know the site's been down. Here's a hot tip - only upgrade (UP???grade) to Internet Explorer V7 if you never want to use ftp to upload your new web pages ever again. If you don't understand this then it's not a problem for you. Microsoft; where you press "Start" to stop. Big bag of toss. 16/12/06First things first; so what happened to our charidee appearance at The Glass Barrel? Attendees at our recent Bakers Vaults gig will have noticed Naughty Peter's blackened fingernails; this is from where the bamboo splints were inserted in order to extract details of his whereabouts on said charidee gig afternoon. Tell you what, he's a bugger to keep down, but Sinful Dr Arson drew on his years of experience of the application of torture (more usually via the medium his bass guitar playing) and extracted the following details. So here it is:- many many moons ago the very nice man (not a whiskery old git at all) John at The Glass Barrel asked us if we'd play a charidee Sunday afternoon gig. Everybody agreed that this would be nice. It didn't however coincide with Naughty's shifts, so Naughty had a chat with a chum at work (hereafter referred to as "Twatty") who agreed to swap shifts with Naughty on the Sunday in question. Top! Job done - all sorted! So time passed and we all grew a little older and a little poorer but hey, a little wiser too. Actually, it was just the first two. On the Friday before the Sunday gig Naughty is beavering away at work when a postcard crosses his naughty little workstation. ("Workstation"? "Station" would be more like it - it's Piccadilly after all. Ask for him by name next time you're there.). Naughty picks up the postcard picturing a couple of Vietnamese ladyboys:- Dear Work, Much exclamation and slandering of Twatty ensues followed by frenzied ringing around to try to get Naughty's shift covered. Alas and alack (yup, panto season's upon us) it wasn't possible to get anyone else to do it at short notice so we had to pull out at the last minute, and let's face it, nobody likes having to do that. We tried manfully to get another equally dodgy band to cover for us but they were all either working, having heart attacks (see below) or else couldn't make it out to an unpaid gig 20 miles from home on a Sunday afternoon. Heartless swine. So amidst a welter (what's a welter? - Ed) of profuse apologies we say sorry to The GB, the kiddywinks, and our fan Dave Featherstone who was going to watch us. The handsome and dashing and not even slightly a git at all landlord John is known for his dismay at 'no shows' (and who can blame him) but we were right on course until two days before the gig and tried really hard to cover it. Unfortunately, our crapness knows no bounds and we dived. Winkers. We're hoping that the really very hunky John (I don't know about you, but I always feel there's a touch of the gentle Jesus about him. It's a caring thing, y'know. Shining through the gruff yet masculine exterior) will see his way clear to putting us on at the next charidee do which we WILL turn up for. There could be a poster in it.....? Copycat Corner. On our links page you'll find a link to the website of the very splendid "Rock Doctors", tunesmiths of this parish and fronted by the most excellent Gerry who if you haven't heard him, has a voice like twelve housebricks going through a window and landing in an industrial meat grinder. But in a very listenable way. Sad to report Gerry keeling over during a gig in Ashton the other week, but fortunately nice and close to Tameside General's Coronary Care Unit. Top dudes in the band and nifty ambulance response saves Gerry's bacon, unlike the bouncer on the door who assumed he was some pissed eejit! Nice one band dudes and amblancefolk! Phew! Celebrity hospital visit by the CTs bearing gifts of "The Beano" and Roger Mellie's Profanosaurus (I think) cheers up Gerry no end. Rock 'n' Roll eh? The Rock Doctors have told Gerry when he's out he mustn't carry anything heavy. Mister Bat (after a fascinating but quite brief at two hours 'you tell me about yours and I'll tell you about mine' discussion) informs Gerry that if this lasts a fortnight it'll be a week longer than it did in The CTs. For a full match report on Gerry's health go to their site via our Lynx page. In the meantime The CTs say get well soon Gerry and er, if there's any gigs you can't make.... We went to Lancaster! It was dead exciting. Mister Bat reversed into the band van right outside the gig. Cool. Air guitar and bum/chest baring (which really is VERY rock 'n' roll - but preferably done by girlies - which it was (hooray!!)) made for a splendid evening out. Swell to see Kev and Debbie (ex Bike 'n' Hound) again in a nice big and busy boozaire. We've got some booked in next year. Ok, so why no gigs in February/March? It's a rhythm section thang aligning with imminent parenthood in the drumming department. And whilst Dave (aka Blaise Bondage (rhymes with 'barge')) paces up and down chain smoking outside Stepping Hill's Maternity Unit, our very own Blastful Dr Sinarse is once again off to the Antipodes with his blushing bride visiting relatives in NZ. Never one to be left out, I might nip round my mum's for a brew. Posters all gone! At the end of the last Bakers gig not a single poster remained on the wall (you thieves!) and orders were placed for further prints. As we're basically lazy beer-driven slobs all orders were immediately forgotten so I'll get it on the posters page sometime soon and you can print your very own copy out for your own sordid purposes. Incidentally, star-spotting saddos will have clocked my old mucker Jim Out Of Jim's Ties (no relation) seated towards the front of this particular show with his Yorkshire-lass paramour, the delightful Fi (rhymes with 'fee', something close to every musician's heart). Jim pronounced it "k'fin loud". Oops. Sorry Jim. Last night we played for a delightful audience at the Manchester Harley Davidson Owners Club in Trafford Park. We saw Kev from the Rainy Daze club! He saw us!! Penn the Sound won a very nice Hong Kong HOC sweat shirt and Naughty Peter won some Budweiser in the raffle. A nice festive photo of the band will be winging its way onto here soon. Anyway, the goose is getting phat and we're off to The Witton Chimes next weekend so see you there losers. If you can't be there then a paltry sixer will gain you admission (numbers limited) to The Bakers Vaults in Stockport on New Years Eve. 30/07/06Yow! I sit here at CTs central with the dark one at my side forcing me to do his evil bidding. Apparently some soft-arsed get in the submarine business hasn't got enough to fill his dinner (half) hour with and requires additional spurious verbal puke to justify his miserable existence. Dad here, the chair is moved. Sven sits beside me bemoaning the lack of 'Mr, Bat' Don't worry Jeff, he hasn't got a clue about BAE lunch breaks. Recent Stuff The Garricks Head What an unusual turn of events. The audience looked to me to be expecting an ABBA tribute band and displayed an entertaining amount of cleavage to make their disappointment of no real interest to us ,Battling on manfully we noticed that the audience of nurses from Trafford General were soon joined by some Metallica T-shirted folks in their mid something or other. Dammit, let's not forget the Motorhead T-shirt either. Highlight of the evening was me starting 'Dear Prudence' and wondering when the hell Pete is going to join our planet, turning round to see him chatting away on his mobile! I look at Mr Bat who is fighting back the tears of laughter whilst watching the World Cup on the TV and simultaneously manoeuvring the light system with the aid of a high tech blunt end of a pool cue. The phone call is unrehearsed although the audience doesn't think so. "It's work" say's Pete."They want to know where I am !" pause for effect "I'm not f**king there then am I ", cue explosive guitar chord (probably inappropriate) and off we go without a word to the wise. Nice to see Jackie Sykes, wife of me old mate Ray, dancing with the Earrmeister mid tune but not distracting him enough to prevent the ensemble denouement Vinegar Strokes of Radar Love. Thanks again to Ian Ridgeway, without whom this band would have had some serious transport issues' 13/12/05Just a quickie chickens. True, I haven't written for a while, but then you wouldn't have written either if you were me. Here's the scene at 'Villa Van Bat' only yesterday as a steady procession of wellwishers and general meddling do-gooders fetched gifts and tributes to mark the dipping of leathery toes into the lake of fire and brimstone that you and I know as "a Bakers gig" (always remarkable, but yet more so on this particular occasion as it (a) was our Dave's birthday, (b) featured ex CT bro' Nick Berry sitting in somewhat impressively for the start of the second set, and (c) included some horseplay with big magnets, but more of that another time.
Let it rock! The visiting Sinful Dr Arson (anag.) attempts to trick Mister Bat into doing a Stevie Marriott impression with the lure of finest Havanas smuggled back from his world trip. Mister Bat counters with his 'Bin Laden goes to the dentist' joke... There's been some whining about some of the pictures on the "The Band" page not displaying properly or even at all. I've investigated the problem for a number of seconds and determined that I really don't care. I suppose however that if for instance your copy of 'The Jackanapes Journal' (or whatever tragic drivel you pant over when you're not reading this nonsense) has been intercepted by your mum and you really are desperate for manly stimulus then I could email the pictures to you for you to cut out and keep. You could print them off, bring up the page on the internet and glue them onto your screen! No, DON'T!! (no really, you'd be surprised). Mind you... Hey! How about we have a page with pictures of the band (with dotted lines around them to help with the cutting out - get a grown up to help you and remember to always be careful with scissors) which you glue to old lolly sticks? Then every week we could have some pictures of different gear, Marshalls, Flying Vs, lights etc, and you could download some tunes from the 'Lix' page and set up your own little CTs gig in your room! This saves you lots of money, stops you interfering with our drinking pleasure, and probably sounds better too! Picture it:- The scene: your room, the door closed, lights low, the stage set. Your mp3 player: "drone, squeal, bing-bong, surrender Prudence" or whatever... You: "Gosh Pete, I always reckoned the Flying V would sound great through the Peavey hooked up to the 4x12" Pete (not actually him but really you pretending to be him): "Yes Rockslashbutt (insert your own preferred rock god name here) you're absolutely right. Gosh, if only I had your insight and ears. I know, we'll sack that bald malingerer and you can join the band instead of him. That way your excellent and invaluable advice will always be to hand when I need it! And would you be able to show me a few of those dead hard but dead good riffs you're always making up. Please say you'll do it, say you will". The door: "knock knock thump thump bang bang" Your mum: "What are you doing in there?! Have you got the Kleenex again. Open this door NOW!" Solves all those 'hard-to-buy' Christmas present worries doesn't it? Admit it. It's a winner isn't it?! At age 47 Bill Wyman began a relationship with 13-year old Mandy Smith with her mother's blessing. Six years later, they were married, but the marriage only lasted a year. Not long after, Bill's 30-year-old son Stephen married Mandy's mother, age 46, making Stephen a stepfather to his former stepmother. If Bill and Mandy had remained married, Stephen would have been his father's father-in-law and thus his own grandpa. That's much more than you deserve and "Ace of Spades" has just come on Planet Rock so I'm off headbanging. Until next time, Van Bat Vivant. x 10/10/05We have been separated so long. My cheeks blush pink and hot as you, my inamorata, gaze up, and slowly raising your dusky eyelids upwards towards me, gently enquire, "what time do you call this and just where the exactly f*ck have you been?". "Ah, mes douces" I fondly whisper as your eager countenances wed themselves once more to my sepia tinted memories, "it is true October is upon us, but ease your worried minds, unfurrow your brows. Let me soothe away your fears and misgivings. It has been a long, sometimes weary, but always interesting journey since we last broke bread together back in June, some stops scheduled, some not. The path of rock and roll is rocky and, well, a bit, er, roll-ey I suppose you'd call it, but rest assured my loves, never once not even for a moment did I ever forget that the higher up a tree a monkey climbs the more it shows its bum. We wrapped up our summer holidays with a gig at The Glass Barrel. We like it there because it's our kind of gig. It would be neat if a few more crammed into the corners but nevertheless, building your band at a gig takes time (and talent - Ed) and we like John and Michael and the many other groovers who come to watch and sniff our little parade of musical catnip. Unlike us (who were characteristically noisy), Tania was uncharacteristically quiet and failed to claim her sacrificial prize of a bass player offered elsewhere in this drivel. Just to be clear: there's a sign up on the wall here at CTs central which says that unclaimed prizes are forfeit. No refunds, no exchanges, no lip. Now I'm sorry pet but those are the rules. I don't make 'em (he lied) and so Arnie is once more ours, his fingers to lick and poke in the socket. Well there's nothing on telly is there? The very next night (whoooo, a tour....) found us at The Griffin in Earlestown where things continue to build nicely. A nice in-house pa properly worked by Andy (cheers matey!). Got invited to do the Newton-le-Willows festival next year, so it can't have been as crap as all that can it? Good to see Bill again (nb Andy, buy Bill a decent sized memory stick-thing for his camera will you?). Thence off to Mister Roughley's bike show. See pic on Games page (more to follow real soon). An exploding generator at the start of the bike show shortened everybody's live set with the notable exception of the band on before us who, with Velvet Revolver-like belief in their own genius, blatantly ignored their finishing time curtailing our set by a time exactly equal to their overrun. How considerate. Sitting here, I initially wrote a quite caustic diatribe on the nature of respect (to the organisers, the crowd, fellow musicians etc) but it's done so what's the point? So who were these self obsessed tossers? If you were there then you saw them, and if you weren't then it doesn't matter, so we'll maintain a stony silence on that. Rest assured however that should we find ourselves on the same bill in the future we won't be sold down the river again. Wound/salt department:- It so happens that this adjustment to the running times meant that we missed the Sunday Sport's photo shoot ("could you fetch a couple of those pointy guitars down as props lads?") which took place round the corner in the underground car park at Asda, featuring a whoop of young nubiles draped across various <insert own knob/chopper gag here> etc etc. You'd be cross too, wouldn't you? Apart from that rather crucifying little downer, our short but punchy set was warmly welcomed by the heaving masses. Corking sound through the whole day and some neat new bands later on. The fab CTs invited back to perform next year. And it didn't rain! In between all this, we got a call from the Harley Davidson guys following our gig for them a couple of weeks ago. "We thought you were simply top! Will you do next year for us as well please?". Like the musical sluts we are, we said yes. Funny, they didn't seem as drunk as all that? If it was September the second (which it was) then it was off to Royton to meet the Frazzer. Quite a lot's happened since we did this. What I can tell you is there's a beezing big stage, Frazzo got 'em in on arrival (giving the gig an extra five points on the band's gig evaluation scorecard). My new mate Ian (of the purple vest) dropped by to watch. He's the new guitarist in Riff Raff he is and we swap emails about gigs and that. What a pair of big girlies we are. Frazz has sworn me to secrecy in some areas, so you'll need to go along to find out what that's all about, although I do remember she had a very fine line in Mister Bat abuse, some of which actually made the rest of the band laugh out loud at one point when we were packing up. This is an excellent thing and we say you should get along there every week unless you're watching The CTs somewhere else. We got asked back but I don't think we've got the date yet? Arnie? Frizzo? Then what happened? 9th September - The Railway Romiley. Now then, this will be a somewhat limited review of this event, principally because I didn't actually make it to the gig. "Quoi? Un engagement des Cravats Irréfléchi sans Monsieur Chauve?!?! Jamais - c'est incroyable!" you pretentiously mutter (you big precious playacting ponce. Just who exactly do you think you're impressing? Eh? Who?). Perhaps I should explain... Whereas your dreary everyday-life-day commences with a bowl of cornflakes (or whatever gruel you kickstart your day with) whenever you drag your sorry carcass out of your pit, for us a gig day doesn't actually commence until about 19:00 in the evening when the CasualTies-Mobile does its rounds, scooping up the poop that you lovingly know as The CTs and depositing it/us on the doorstep of the gig. For the purposes of bill-paying and child-shoeing/feeding however it is unfortunately necessary to supplement our rock star incomes with a tawdry pastime which we shall refer to here as "the day job". Somebody once said that life is like a bicycle - if it isn't going somewhere, you fall over. Keen followers of Mister Bat's stellar (not Stella - that makes everybody fall over) career would not therefore have been surprised to see him fall over on this (or any other for that matter) particular morning. Now, it's not unusual to take a light nap prior to going out and rocking the nation; perhaps you do it before some gigs, particularly if you're as old as Arnie. It is however a little frowned upon at the day job. Particularly at 9:30 in the morning. Luckily (in today's case), the Batster's early siesta was registered by colleagues as he crumpled earthward, acquiring carpet burns to the left temple on landing. Much excitement ensued (apparently) followed by flashing blue lights, the cutting up of a perfectly good t-shirt (not a CTs one you'll be relieved to learn!), ribs cracking (as opposed to "cracking ribs" (Gromit?)), people shouting "CLEAR!", a luxuriance of impure words (not from me), breakfast hurling (from me - not recommended), diamorphine injections (highly (yeah! - the puns just keep rolling) recommended!) and a high speed trip in a Staffordshire ambulance. The scene at the day job is reconstructed below (cut up perfectly good t-shirt, vomit, and loss of dignity not illustrated).
Buddy Rich once said "if you can walk, you do the gig". I was rather hoping to be released in time for the evening set-to but turned out to be unable to walk, being heavily medicated and connected to something which might not have been out of place on Thunderbirds. So I missed the gig. Bugger. Like the troupers they are, the men did it as a three piece. It was tense, but he boys rose to the occasion. Course they did. It's not like they're big girls or anything. And nobody had to sit on their own in the back of the van. 10th September - The Witton Chimes Northwich. Those CTs left standing are anxious not to let anyone down at short notice, so bum corks are changed, the set list is carefully rearranged to accommodate Mister Bat's absence, and the crowd are for a second successive night treated to a three piece outing whilst Mister Bat continues to loaf around at the taxpayer's expense offering lewd drug fuelled solicitations to nurses. Alas, we hear the age-old cry "play summat we know". This is class sh*t you philistines (see review page)! Luckily the boys keep the covers for the second set and honour and the fee are preserved. And to be fair, the management are most understanding, sending Mister Bat their best wishes, but no money or beer. 11th September - University Hospital of North Staffordshire. No, not a gig but a visiting day. The three vertical (and by now heavily wedged!) CTs join Mrs Bat (aye, sorry girls!) in a foray down the M6 to see the man who has firmly staked his claim as the pop idle of the band and is perpetuating the myth of musicians as drug taking scoundrels (well, they prescribed them!). On arrival Mister Bat is soundly asleep but is eerily roused (not Aroused!) by the mere presence of his brothers-in-row and a rather painful poke in the ribs. "Yvonne, I thought I asked you to get Take That..." he (perhaps a little uncharitably) proclaims, to the evident dismay of his brethren. Nevertheless perked up, Mister Bat voices delight at the boys' sense of fraternity and egality in bringing his share of the fee from the previous two nights' travails. Some moment of silent shoegazing pass, then Blast Furniss, sensing that Mister Bat's drugged and debilitated state has left him defended only by his IQ (currently that of a frayed sock puppet), seizes the moment, expertly dispensing a chinese burn to the already enfeebled Mister Bat before legging it in the ensuing pandemonium with his mars bar money, a Daily Mail sudoku puzzle book and the bloke in the next bed's iPod with Frank Ifield's greatest hits on it. Some days Blast gets up earlier so he can be a bast*rd for that little bit longer. Bo Diddley had it right when he said "don't trust nobody but your mama. And even then, look at her real good". 14th September - Full Moon Newcastle Under Lyme. Covered for us by the splendid "Nailed" who were so good they got offered some more gigs. Nice one Nailed folk. Their drummer's sixteen y'know - he's not half good. Us? Arnie spoke to Paul at the gig and he was real nice about it. Hopefully we'll be rearranging soon as possible. He lays on Shepherds pie. That is, he offers it to the bands. Obviously he doesn't lie on it. That would be stupid and unhygenic. 16th September - Bakers Stockport. Same as above but without the extra gigs. 7th October - The Mousetrap Disley. Now liberated from hospital but not nearly match fit and harbouring new fears of electromagnetic fields (which is really handy in a band innit?) I call Glynis to explain our predicament. She is so nice she almost has me in tears. To be rearranged. 15th October - Bike 'n' Hound Hyde. One of my favourite gigs being done as a Mister Bat-less three piece but with the possibility of a celebrity sound engineer! So it looks like R&R until at least November depending on medical folks. Let's see if we can't conjure up something special for you for then. We'll not dwell on the detail here, but if you're interested in the more medical aspects of this caper, our man Mister Bat exhibited all of the signs (except the one where you die suddenly) of Brugada Syndrome although that diagnosis is unconfirmed. He now owns an ICD (look it up) and must avoid anything magnetically attractive (so no problem hanging around with the guys in the band then). Crocodiles and alligators are surprisingly fast on land. Although they are rapid, they are not agile; so if you ever find yourself chased by one, run in a zigzag line. You'll lose him every time. Start up www.google.co.uk and enter 'liar' in the search box then click on "I'm feeling lucky". That's probably the biggest one for a while? Will that do you to be going on with? Comments welcomed to the address at the foot of each page. 25/06/05Well stuff me sideways with a secondhand Gideon's bible (in excellent condition, if slightly foxed) which may or may not have been previously owned by a family of squirrels from the Kent borders. It's late June already and I haven't written to you, my little love puppets, since April. I'm a bad boy and should be punished (those of you in the know contact the "special" email address. The usual sealed bid process will operate. Usual rates.). Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. I was expecting finer things from my purple crayoned correspondent from The Glass Barrel, but apparently she's besotted by banjos, purple vests and Polish vodka, so sod the old trout. I do however have a new correspondent, "Frazdebbie" from Oldham. Frazdebbie describes herself as "some pain in the arse who will be bugging you all the time". Hmm. I can stay at home for that... Nevertheless, The Debster illuminates me with the news that Royton Con Club is "on its arse" (Conservative Club? On its arse? Well, there's a proper cheeser...), and that she and her acolytes are launching a rock venue there on Friday nights. What do we think? We think it's top! The CTs are lazy Stockport based tossers and therefore don't get off the 192 bus route on nights off when not gigging, but nevertheless exhort you (yes, YOU!) to be the kind of cat that encourages new venues by turnip (should say "turning", but "turnip" is better) up and supporting this new gig. Unless of course you're not that arsed about having live music venues... Two quid in, Friday night only, commences 15th July 2005 with The Dogyard Bones. Me and Billy-Joe Burgess, a magnificent bass player I used to gig with (in the "Billy Best Band" - he'd get completely sh*t faced and never drop a note all night, although there was an unfortunate incident at some big bollocks hotel in the Derbyshire hills where he hit the lead guitar player with a chair leg mid-set at "Maurice The Gay Butcher's 50th" gig. Still, less said about that the better I suppose..), used to look at it like this: "beer at this price must be subsidised from party funds. So the more we drink, the more money we cost the Tories. Brill! Stella frenzy!! Anyway, never mind my blurry reminiscences. The folks running the venue are taking nothing for themselves at all, so SUPPORT IT! (particularly on 2nd September when we're on). You'll also see class acts like Backwater Blues and Cold Shot. I don't think the venue has a website (* FLASH * UPDATE * - you'll find them at www.roytonconclub.co.uk), but her Frazness is apparently an avid reader of this rubbish, so YEOW! - if you have some webspace which you don't use via your broadband connection or whatever (which is how the leeches in our band get this space), support live music by offering it to old Frazbag so they can get it all online. Let's face it. You're reading this, so it works! So where have we been lately? (And I'm a bit buggered because I've deleted all the recent gigs from the web page so I can't actually remember (thank you the 1970s..) what we've done lately). However, we did do The Witton Chimes again. It was top, we liked them, they liked us. It wasn't half hot. Again. Top pub, lovely landlady (no landbloke AGAIN!) and not so far from your house that you couldn't have turned up. You lazy git. The "Fabulous Chickens" were summoned from the Queens Arms gig in New Mills. We did what we could. We got paid, we got asked back. You have no idea what I'm talking about do you? You should have been there! Royally treated (never underestimate the value a guitar player places on free beer and food) with stunning grub, plenty of beer and Benji the fastest dog in the north west (who apparently stole and ate all the sirloin steak yet lived to bark the tale). The Chick-Dudes (ok, you're puzzled, so it's an impromptu offshoot eighteen-string oriented duo from The CTs, ok?), had a right smart time Cheers Wendy and (I think) John! We'll come back anytime. Hopefully rather better rehearsed, but if we all had a blast, which I think we did, then that's the important bit. I still don't believe "Black Night" got played on a 12 string acoustic.... Where else? The Old Market Tavern in Altrincham, that's where. Not played there for a few years, but under Anne-Marie's management it seems just swell. She reckons she's met me before? Me, I'm not so sure, but who knows, not me, I never lost control. I'm face to face with the man who sold the world (insert dead smart guitar riff (you know how it goes) here for yourself). Word to the wise: the locals said the audience in there can be cruel. Ha! We fear nothing (so long as it's not after 1975). Big love to Backwater Blues Colin for wording Mrs Anne-Marie about the CTs. Back there in August. Rehearsed the other night. Some nifty new tunes are in the offing but I couldn't possibly spoil the surprise(s). New gig next January (2006!) at the Plough (pronounced "pluff") Cadishead. Met Heather (Mrs Manageress) the other week. Job's a good 'un. Paul's 50th at The Davenport Park Hotel wins the prize for the gig nearest to my house in the whole world! There was dancin' and a prancin' and , er, cake. Not so sure the septuagenarians were completely at one with the CTs thing, but big fun was has by those of a certain age and consumption. Oi Banjo! Where's our link gone from your site? Oi, Jonesey! Gone a bit quiet haven't we? (This is completely unconnected to the imminent departure of Midlands based web consultancy My Mate Lee At Work. The two-toed rat). Finally, this week's e-postbag is bursting with the news that The CTs have been specially selected from a really big list of less lucky mortals by the Readers Digest Online and have definitely won either a bazillion quid, a fully functioning holiday home/babe lair on Copacabana beach fully kitted out with dead fit strumpets and more lager than it takes to wet a rhesus macaque, a right smart motor, or a novelty paper clip, so retirement beckons - catch us while you can in what must surely be our retirement year. Oh, and apparently there's a sale on at World of Leather. Best not miss it. See you down there. Did you know that rodents can't vomit? Adios gatitos! 09/04/05There isn't actually any news. So stop reading now. Ok, if you're still here, then you deserve this, have the ramblings.... Howdy! I return intact from the pub having watched "Jugopunch - a kick-ass Irish folk band" (the poster says. More recently they've been living in Stoke). I spent weeks admiring their frankly quite glamorous poster thinking they were some sort of mid-European Irish tribute thing (y'know "Yugopunch" - think in a Eurovision kind of context), then kittens, my mate Dave points out to me "it's 'Jug of Punch' you sputum-brained divvy". He has a point. If I am to remain in touch with my people then I must forsake the Grauniad crossword and return to The Daily Star one. You can laugh, but this stuff's relative, and The Daily Star crossword pees all over the Big Issue crossword. To digress momentarily (and here's a little secret peep into BatWorld), why do you end up with billions of copies of the same 'Big Issue'? Being fresh back from the hostelry, I couldn't remember what it's called (The Big Issue), so I just went into the kitchen to find one. We actually only have two for April (so I'm a liar), but FOUR of the March issue (so I'm vindicated!) sitting unread in the kitchen awaiting the joyous (for me) reunion with the pulping machine. Let's have a butchers.... "Dear Dora (or whoever), I drink cider in liver-blitzing volumes but as luck would have it I was already as mad as a budgerigar to begin with. Tell me, pray, why oh why oh why oh why are people so horrid to me when I shout and swear at them and their children in the High street on a Saturday morning in my neo-avian rant-squeal-speech which is audible only (blasphemies excluded) to dogs and the lurking hordes of Satan? What's gone wrong with society? Am I alone in appreciating the scent of kidney-pre-processed White Lightning strained through my tramps vest in the morning... ". Dora replies: "Gaaaah, yerall fikkan bassas aargh". You never spent a better quid. Anyway, so Jug of Mild were alright if you like that sort of thing, which frankly I don't but the folk-obsessed barman at The Glass Barrel would have enjoyed it a lot. Nah, to be fair, they played nice, it's just not for me. Thanks to all of you who wrote with Harley contact numbers. It's all sorted now - Kev, who's running the gig, got in touch last week, but ta for your contributions and contacts for future Harley gigs ;-) We here at CT's central owe a particular debt of thanks to a couple of people: Tania (see, spelled it right) "The Elfin One" (who for reasons that don't concern you, I may refer to as "Cynthia") from The Glass Barrel writes to help, yet castigates me thus: "OI.....one more thing....no mention of Caz our frikkin fabulous landlady on your GB gig reviewy thingy. The place wouldn't run without her!!!!! She is the backbone of the whole thing! Rude I say....how bloody RUDE!" (is that what they mean by "purple prose"? Tan, don't do it pet, it makes you look like some mentalist scribbling with a crayon...) She is however right of course. I shall immediately change my name by deed poll (yet again) to "Ruud Van Batstelroyoftherovers", thereby acknowledging firstly my debt of gratitude and humility to my new correspondent chum Tanbuttski, and secondly my debt of pleasure to the Dutch genius, thus killing two birds with one stone, even if one of them's a bloke and not actually a bird at all. Having got this off her chest, Tannykins (can I call you that?) then proceeds to be generously helpful with her Harley contact notebook. So thanks Tanbo (is 'Tanbo' ok?). By way of compensation/gratitude, our bass player, Arnie, will buy you a beer or more next time we perform in yours and Caz's esteemed den. Flip! Taking John's claims into account, is this then another pub that's not run by a bloke (see somewhere or other below)? Further, our newly rehabilitated Website guru, Jonesy, pens me thus: "Whenever you're playing so are The Buzzcocks. So guess which gigs I'm going to? While I have your attention, get the old gigs off the gig list you slack slob - it makes you look even more desperate than you so obviously already are. You sorry bag of squirrel vomit". Strict? I should coco... Done. Sorry Jonesy... Yow! Is that the time? Bonne nuit mes petits choux, Ruud Van Batstelroyoftherovers. 25/03/05Blimey! Has it been that long? Well it's all Jonesey's fault. Jonesey, bless, couldn't really be mithered turning up at the last gig, citing some pop band on in town as her excuse. Still, she sent the old man down and it was good to see him. Does a bit for The Buzzcocks he does, which is about as close to glamour as we get. Anyway, as the whole website thing appears to be sliding into chaos, neglect and disrepair, I now summon (spooky lighting and possible puff of red smoke) "The JonesWebConsultancyBeast" to remind me when things are slipping. So WAHEY! (© E. Morecambe) - You're back on the payroll Jonesey, not least because our massively overpriced consultancy My Mate Lee At Work is currently under-resourced in all departments other than the one which dispenses shirty emails about delivery/payment/blah blah. Whistle, kitten. What else? Gig in July for the local Harley owners club although we don't seem to have a contact number. Somebody help us out here please (excuse on gigs page). THE BIKE 'N' HOUND IS BACK IN BUSINESS!!! Three gigs up there this year makes me very happy. Shamefully, I can't remember the new landlady's name, but when I do, I'll fix it up on the gig page. (It's Chantelle, idiot). Three gigs at The Market Tavern in Altrincham. Same landlady name problem. Now don't get me wrong, I'm fine with pubs being run by landladies (hello Auld Motor Hoose Melba!), but don't blokes run pubs any more? Speaking of The Auld Motor Hoose (in Kirkwall, miles away), I have some neat video of the landlady landing a teabag on the lens of my video camera which needs releasing to the world. Perhaps I'll try to get it on here once I've erased my own somewhat earthy observations on this event from the soundtrack. I gave some Kirkwall and mainland Scotland phone number to Geoff Garcia out of Cold Shot the other night. They're dead good, so if they turn up near you then go see 'em. Where have we been? We've been to The Glass Barrel in Atherton and jolly nice it was too. The GB is run by a bloke, John, but even he claims to be a lesbian? What's the world coming to? A bit thin due to The Pig's 50th birthday party in a sty (or some chicken sheds or something. It was explained to me at the time but I'd been on the danger-lager by then) up the road the same night. But we met lots of nice folks, including, very late in the night, Tanya (I've spelled it wrong again, but according to the GB website she "is Elfin, has wings and can fly". Works for me. She also breaks the door a lot, locking the bands in. I dunno - make your own mind up). Possibly the most ridiculously loud soundcheck we've ever done. I mean, it hurt while we were doing it but bizarrely, we didn't stop, then at the end collectively pronounced "that's twelve that is. It's daft. Even for us. Let's turn down.", so we turned down without then soundchecking again. How stoooopid is that? Anyway, the monkey of fortune popped up from round the back of Arnie's amp wrapping his wee prehensile tail right around the faders on the mixer of lurve and so it all turned out tickety boo (and for the feistier carouser, arguably lickety split). And I won the band pool contest (but probably only because we had to do the second set before Blast got a go). A couple of punters well thrilled by our Zappa cover ("My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama" seeing as you ask - the Dweezil version for those of you who don't get out enough). A top boozer which is well run by a top geezer (hello John!) which the CTs thoroughly recommend to you, the gullible punter. No, it's dead good. Honest. Go there. Downer? - The barman putting (lots of!) crap folk music on the jukebox at the end of the night. Not just bad, but like , "The Wild Rover" - I mean like really bad..... Owwww! Where's Drew? I've got photos of the Boy Dickson in a CTs tshirt in Convictland. Coming your way soon Dr Dick fans. Pic of Mrs Chimp's bum having a night out at The Wishing Well Heywood (nope, still no sign of a return gig) with her mum on the front row to be published when I can find it. Unless the agreed fee is delivered soon. Like, real soon. 08/02/05I really must get the "where's Drew?" page in shape. That's right - "Doctor Dickson Writes To Blighty With Tales of Adventure From Johnny Foreigner Land". I know where he is as he sent me some emails. And do you know what? You need to know too, so I'm going to share it all with you my little possums. In his own words. But not today. Stay tuned... Why not apply for your own page on here? It saves me making this swill up. Nice to be back at The Griffin in Earlestown last Saturday filling in for the broken handed Dog House. Thanks to Andy for doing the pa sound thing stuff. First set was a bit whiffily inaccessible but it all recovered nicely by the end with dancin' and a' prancin' and a' movin' and a' groovin'. Regular fans will be delighted to know we made such an impression we'll be back in, er, November (look eejit, it's a very busy diary, so just put it on the gig list and LEAVE IT! Anyway, he offered us August but you wouldn't do it you tart - Ed). Make note - get gig lists, break more hands, get more gigs..... Griffin regular and website maestro Bill (see lynx page) took some photos which he's sending to me real soon. Aren't you Bill? (if they've come out all bollocks, it's because we actually look like that so don't fret, just whizz 'em over, or else wazz over 'em (which could be tricky what with them being digital. It certainly won't do the camera any good although you might end up with a half decent winkie-snap (doesn't the dog eats those? "Yum, 'winkie-snaps'. Pant, arf, drool, woof etc..") but watch out for shorting/earthing the battery if you do, particularly if the camera's charging from the mains at the time. The CasualTies do not recommend wazzing over anything connected to the national grid). 29/01/05Wrong again: Whilst out watching the splendidly entertaining Blueprint the other week, I am buttonholed by Benn (yes, two Ns), the charming and gifted drummer from The Audioholics who corrects my misrepresentation (see 13/01/05) of their splendid set thus: "we played 'Venice Queen' and 'Can't Stop' by The Chilis, but not 'By The Way'". Duly chastised, I offer this humble correction like the slug of fate awaiting the salt cellar of destiny, pausing only to put a link to their site on the Lynx page. Talk about pearls before swine - no wonder Kurt shot himself. New gig at The Railway in Romiley! Details in the obvious place. It's only fair: Ian Bowden wants to be on our email list as does Michael Flynn (shouldn't he be working Chris?). How do I know? They emailed me to say so, that's how. (Then again, some bloke I've never heard of emails me from Nigeria three times a week wanting to share eighteen million quid with me and I don't believe him either). Whatever, ever obliging, you're right on there now guys (not you in Nigeria) so, er, right on! If you're anxiously awaiting the next one it's only fair to let you know the last one went out in 2001 so don't hold your breath. Maybe I'll send that one out again? Inundated (oh, really?) with requests for CTs original tunes for 25/02/05, rehearsals continue apace. For maximum band embarrassment be sure to call out for "Slippy Frogs" or "West Is Taste" which we won't be doing as they're too hard to get together in the available time. Can't even play our own tunes - how crap is that? Gig at The Queens New Mills is moved from 05/03/05 to 17/06/05. Regular readers will be amused to learn that this is Mister Bat's doing as he has other fish to fry on that particular evening. Hook Norton rules apply however, so this doesn't count towards the "most hysterical reaction (in the band, ok everybody?) to moving a gig" competition. Which I am leading. Uncatchably so. Feel free to poke fun however if you feel it appropriate. Remember kids, if it's worth reacting, it's worth overreacting. Or is it overacting? I'm not sure and only you and I care so does it really matter? Band works outing tonight to The Glass Barrel in Atherton to see 'All 3 Cylinders' with Pete chauffering! Gosh, that was a lot. I'm off for a lie down. 13/01/05Rumour has it that the next CTs gig at The Bakers Vaults on 25/02/05 will comprise all original material. Blimey missus! Email any requests for tunes you haven't heard in years to the usual address (at the bottom of each page). All kissed and made up with the Thatched folks now after recent misunderstandings, which is nice. Had a fine evening in there with The CTs to a quality audience on 3rd January. See the Lynx page to find out what's on at The Thatched when you can't be out watching the CTs. Gigs at the pokey blown out (again) due to rioting. Not sure if that was the thrill or dread of anticipation. The male voice choir the previous year didn't get any rioting until they'd turned up and started singing. I'm not sure if that's good or bad? Would've made great video... Maybe later this year... A good time had by all at The Hollywood last Friday night. We say happy
birthday to Railway Bob! We also ask whether he's snowed in (apparently it's
some deep railway humour thing that the rest of us won't understand). A splendid
set was turned in at half time by "The Audioholics" - a crisp young
three piece who delivered a solid set of their own material mixed nicely in with
some covers including The Red Hot Chili Peppers' "By The Way". A fine
performance marred only by the presence of some old goat caterwauling "My
Generation" (irony? What irony? I don't see any irony in that?) in their
much-deserved encore. In Erratum. The home page reports that Hollywood Bob was no longer having bands in 2005. This is not strictly true. He will be featuring The Jalapenos two or three times a year and also... wait for it... The CasualTies. The Hollywood gigs which were on the gig page will be rescheduled, so keep your pencils sharp. I said he was a nice man. Spied around town: The Perforations. Described as "eeee, that were right funkeh that were". Operate also as "Hocus Pocus" doing a more commercial set, but if you like something a little less mainstream and a little more funk/fusion then catch these guys for a treat. Timon managed to mislay his camera somewhere in Philadelphia so no far-flung tshirt pix. If you happen to be in Philly (as us rock-dude-cats style it) and spot a digital camera lying on a park bench or somewhere then it'll be his so fetch it back with you. Cut this paragraph out in case you need to show it to the judge. 29/12/04Blow me! Our old drinking chum Drew replies to the age old "where are Drew & Dunc?" question, most recently posed on our pix page. Drew informs me that he is currently in Auckland New Zealand but heading to Paihia in the Bay of Islands for Christmas. He also tells me it's been 363 days since he cast off the yoke of regular employment. I'm sorry I asked. Here at CTs central we're hoping that Drew will be sending us a photo of himself in some exotic location in a CTs tshirt so he can win the "Who's been furthest in a CTs tshirt?" competition* (prize, er, a tshirt) to disprove the theory that, just like the Apollo space program, it's all a big hoax and he is actually in fact rat-arsed round the back of The Arden just like always. * Current favourite is our chum Timon who promises a pic from Philadelphia any day now. 14/12/04"Christmas my arse". As you may or may not know, our bass player, the small but imperfectly formed Arnie "Blast" Furniss, is not a big fan of Christmas. The most fun you can have with him at this time of year is to give him a Christmas card. It's top! Witness the contorted rictus as, like a drug crazed rottweiler, he shreds anything offered in an envelope which might conceivably contain images of Santa, holly, robins, reindeer, ickle teddy bears, penguins, snow, snowmen, snowflakes, snowstorms, snowdrifts, snowploughs, snowbirds, snow snow quick quick snow, two turtle doves or, heaven forbid, our own sweet Lord Baby Jesus (who, let's not forget, gave his own life to save sinners. Even you and Blast). He's also not big on the take up of technology having acquired a mobile some while after my mum and dad and spending his working day on the road. In fact, unless he's here at CTs Central he doesn't get to read this rubbish. Not ever. At all. So I thought it would be a hoot if everybody who knows him (customers in particular - I know some of you folks round Barrow have been salivating over the picture of him in the little black frock on the band page. Tee hee - 'Arnie Furniss - 70's porn star and the man who put the "cum" in Cumbria'...) and even those who don't, all gave him a Christmas card this year. If you're not one of Arnie's customers you could perhaps leave him a card behind the bar at The Bakers Vaults in Stockport. Make sure you're there when he gets it though - the unbridled savagery is positively visceral and just too good to miss. Which also means you can use the really cheap crappy cards that sit in the bottom of the Christmas card box from one year to the next that you won't send to anyone else cause they're so shabby/cheesy. Don't bother with a sincere message as it won't get opened. Unless of course you're a customer in which case he'll open it through gritted teeth with a playful smile whilst inwardly fulminating. If everyone does it it'll really confuse him but hush, not a word. Custard Pie? Owls. Reviews. Despite having no (public) gigs in December, we appear twice in the December issue of the self-effacingly titled Stockport & District's Premier Pub, Club, Food & Music Guide! A recent gig at The Romiley Arms is described by Ray Allen in his "Around the Town" piece thus:- "... a good band called Casualties. These were very tight and were excellent musicians. It's a huge pub and the sound was great." Further on in the same issue (on the page before the quiz about Wales. Wales?!?), Des Greene's "Kicking Out The Jams" column says: "If you want to hear some truly jaw-dropping guitar playing (that'll be me - SVB) then you could do a whole lot worse than tracking down The Casualties. I'd go and watch them just for their fabulous (I'm not making this up, honest - SVB) cover of The Green Manalishi (which is how you spell it Des, seeing as you asked). Get there early though, this band is not a very well kept secret and have a good following". Nice one Ray and Des. Cheers! (Talk about pissed....) 17/10/04Mister Bat's guide to losing two gigs in one weekend. #1: If a bloke called Phil ever rings you up offering you gigs in Little Hulton, or even Bamber Bridge, then just hang up. Or else tell him he's got a deal and then don't turn up. Unlike us last night at The Horseshoe in Little Hulton with a van ram-jam full of hardware and vacant looks all round behind the bar. "Band? Eh? We haven't had bands on here since last February?". The bloke who booked us was duly contacted by the landlady and managed to convince all concerned that it absolutely wasn't his fault and he's not a total wa*ker at all. Well ok Phil, if you say so. Shame he wasn't there so we could have drowned him like a kitten. Whatever, ever resourceful, we decided to have a CasualTies works outing instead, and thus traipsed across to The Glass Barrel in Atherton where we watched the (I think) splendid Stone Sole River set up and soundcheck before we returned to Stockport to watch the marvellous Backwater Blues and Undercover performing at Rod (Undercover) MacLeod's birthday binge. You know, I'm sure it says something on the gig page about checking with the venue before getting in a taxi, but nothing about getting into vans? Must look into that... #2: Luckily, things have been going better at The Thatched House in Stockport. Whilst watching Hocus Pocus (work it out for yourself) the other night, a poster was spied for "Custard Pie" (I guess they're in your face or something equally droll), apparently a Zeppelin tribute act. They're on 4/12/04. Hey! That's the same night as us, (as booked in November 2003)! Looks like half the gig diary got passed to the new licensees and half not. As luck would have it, the coincidence fairy arranged it so that the old landlord was in as this cock up came to light, and there ensued broadsides of jolly entertaining (and truth be told, a whisker blasphemous here and unnecessarily anatomical there) cross-accusations between the old and new licensee, with three quarters of The CTs gawping on, enchanted. Me? I don't care either way. I just think that anybody with a name as crap as "Custard Pie" should be pushed down a hole with, er, I dunno, some owls or something. We did get asked to do Boxing Day at The Thatched. Anybody got a view on that? Still no word from The Wishing Well? No wonder he no longer wears the cloth. The hound. Tunes to appear presently following a project workshop consultation with leading Midland Website Consultancy, my mate Lee at work. How can I put this? Jonesy, you're history petal. That seems to get it in a nutshell. 12/10/04Mister Bat's Web Clinic: Never underestimate the value of a website consultant! My old mucker and website consultant/design guru, Jonesy, flatters me with a swift e-missive: "you utter arse" she confides, "there's only five gigs on the list and the date's wrong on two of those, you jizz-witted fop." I had a look and she's right - you can't put a price on professionalism can you? Now obviously, not every band's PR budget will stretch to design consultancy at modern rates. If you fall into this category then my advice is to not do the gig list when you're pissed. 05/10/04Prompted by my old mucker and website consultant, Jonesy, here's the news.... New pix located on pix pages (cryptically
enough). I just typed a whole bunch of stuff in here only to exit without
saving. Still, that's nothing on the day I recently spent with Microsoft Front
Page in my untiring efforts to enhance your CT cyber-experience. Take a tip - if
anyone suggests using it, stick pins in your eyes instead for a wholly more
satisfying experience. What else. Oh yeah... Neither gigged nor rehearsed for ages so Friday's outing to the Thatched should be a larf'n'arf (n'arf, arf, arf). Watch with glee as various band members try to point their way out of a series of serious memory lapses. To our delight, a competition springs out
unbid on the home page pic (nb this is on the old site. To see the picture have
a look on the Pix page and look for "big soft get" somewhere
round the bottom left). Neck and neck at the moment are Graeme the Brave (I'm
his only friend in the south you know) and Wigwam Paul (who won a bass player in
an earlier contest but now wants to send it back - sorry Wiggy, there's a sign
up here that says "No exchanges, no refunds", so looks like he's your
wife now...). |
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Mister
Bat (with an eye for drama) has a lie down - 09/09/05 (not actual size).