Bread Pains

I’ve been eating an awful lot of bread this tour. It’s becoming quite the issue. I’m averaging at least a quarter of a baguette a day. Sometimes even a half - that’s more than a Frenchman. And don’t be fooled by the moustache and the onion necklace I like to sport, i’m not French. The moustache is a joke that’s gone badly wrong and the onions are just a great fashion accessory. Trust me, onions are going to be hot in 2012. Well, for many people they will literally be hot as they’re a key ingredient in many cooking recipes. But I mean it in the fashion term ‘hot’, you may have heard Paris Hilton use the word in this way before. Can you be addicted to bread? If you can then I may be at junkie stage, the point of no return. I try to combat it by removing most of the dough from the baguette, leaving just a crusty tube. I then offer the dough to one of the other guys as I don’t want to get a name as a waster of yeast. I have had some very strange looks as I shuffle around the room offering a lump of dough to anyone present. Although there is always someone that’s willing to take that lump? I won’t name them, but this possibly makes them even more of a pathetic bread addict than myself. A man willing to accept such a gift has a serious problem. You could say they have a ‘Yeast Infection’!? I’m sorry, that’s disgusting.

Anyway, after driving to Wrexham after our day off I awoke with an unsurprising urge to eat a baguette. On said day off in Manchester myself and Spider essentially had a date, albeit one that ended with no urge to kiss each other. We went for some Mexican food in the morning, bought some clothes, went to the cinema then went for another meal at night. It was maybe the best day off ever, if you don’t think so then you’re wrong - you weren’t there and don’t know how good it was. Anyway, my lust for bread had reached a violent level and I beat up a small child before heading into the venue to seek out a baguette. It took me a minute, but I sourced the rider and there they were... two French sticks, beckoning me in. I ripped off what equated to maybe 5/16ths of a loaf and decided what I would garnish it with once I removed its doughy insides. Being a vegetarian this didn’t equate to much, most of my sandwiches this tour have consisted of just lettuce and hummus. Occasionally it’ll also have cherry tomatoes and spinach leaves too - like a posh barbarian. On this day in Wrexham I had an exquisite Red Pepper & Sweet Chili Hummus, it really did set the taste of the bread off. After this my hunger was quenched and I had stopped hallucinating and seeing everyone around me as just loafs of bread with feet. And then it was back to bizniz as usual...

So we were in Wrexham, where we were playing a venue called Central Station. Why was it called that? Because it used to part of the railway system OBVIOUSLY. This was made apparent by the fact there were the skeletons of all the deceased train conductors of Wrexham’s locomotive past strewn across the floor of the venue. Only kidding! That would be horrific. It did used to be where the train station in Wrexham was situated though, that was no lie. I wonder why they moved it? In my head it must be something sinister, like a wolf ate a whole class of schoolchildren whilst they waited idly on the platform one day. If someone could confirm this it’d be much appreciated. Thanks. This was the smallest date of the tour, which could be explained by the fact that many people don’t seem to know that Wrexham exists. Don’t believe me? Ask the person beside you what Wrexham is and there’s a 90% chance they’ll think it’s a type of ham made by a man called W. Rex. Seriously. But Wrexham is a real place. It’s in Wales, but only just. And it was indeed where we were playing. At Central Station. Which is so called because it used to be where the train station was located. Keeping up? Didn’t think so.

Today’s showers were located at a hotel which was maybe a 10 minute drive from the venue - 10 minutes longer than I like to travel for showering. Someone from the venue drove us there after soundcheck and it dawned on us after 5 minutes that this man could actually be kidnapping us so he could hold us to ransom for £100. I don’t have that kind of money. But he was an honest man, and the hotel was real and we did get showered in it. Separately of course, we don’t believe in dual showering - it’s just wrong. Good shower today, it was a disabled room so it had a walk in shower - the epitome of easy cleansing - you just walk right in. Unless your in a wheelchair of course, which is that bathroom’s original function. But everyone can enjoy a walk in shower. If I was made King my first rule would be to make walk-in showers mandatory in every bathroom in the UK. My subjects would thank me down the line.

Back at the venue we played the gig, which you may remember is the main reason we were here. It turns out that Wrexhamites can make a lot of noise. ‘T’was a great show’ you could say if you were from Victorian England. And not a single band member died on stage, a massive result. You know the drill by now, after the show we sat about and remembered the innocent times when we used to build hay bail castles in the fields as summer turned to autumn... Oh wait, that’s not our history, that’s the memories of the cast of Little House On The Prairie. Sometimes I confuse my own life for theirs. Ok, let’s wind this up - it was back in the bus for a heroic border crossing back into England for the following days show in Leeds. The end.

My camera is sick. Here is a picture of a Wrexham having a good time...