It’s been a busy weekend. Friday and Saturday saw me catching up with mates from near and far, nothing too hectic but still requiring me to be a bit of a social butterfly.
Then came Sunday night, spent in the company of Geoffrey Oi!Cott, Valdez, Spiteful Way (their last ever gig, boo!) and some other scallywags at my local, which finished at late o’clock. All bands put on a damned fine show, especially the Oi!Cotts – funny as fuck and very tongue-in-cheek. If you like good old-fashioned working-class alehouse humour, don’t mind lyrics that would offend the prissy middle classes, and have a penchant for cricket, you need to go and see this band.
The gig was a low-key benefit, split between a Brazilian streetkids football project (run by some like-minded friends in São Paulo that a few of the pub team will be visiting and playing in the next couple of weeks) and Bristol Antifa. We were only asking for donations and, after paying a few costs, made about £150 in total. Not bad at all.
The bands joined in fully with the bank holiday madness at the pub, including helping judge a bake-off by the netball team (which basically involved eating shitloads of the finest home-made cakes). The creative confectionary and subsequent scoffing of it raised £104, which is also going to the streetkids fund.
And everyone helped support the local economy by purchasing many gallons of fine beers, ciders and lagers at the best pub in the world (no ‘probably’ about it). The only exception to this was yours truly, who was the designated driver / voice of reason for the night. I managed to fulfil half of my role.
Today was spent helping round up the various northern types, after sending them off in the early hours to the tender care of several Cowboys & Girls for ‘sleep’. Everyone then headed out to the cricket pitch for a hangover-curing session at the crease (or watching from the warm comfort of the clubhouse bar for the less-athletically / more-alcoholically inclined). The Oi!Cotts had enlisted the aid of a few 1-in-12‘ers and the ex-guitarist of Anti-System to make up their side, while the Cowboys put out their usual blend of ne’er-do-wells, social rejects and a gimp. After a lot of tossing of balls, waving of wood, incomprehensible scribing (also known as the Score Book) and witchcraft, the Cowboys were adjudged to have won.
All agreed that a mighty fine time was had and that the event should become an annual affair. Here’s to next year!
