meet up with Scott because I’m skipping the gym and we go to some pub, a pub where we don’t order anything, we just sit there and I’m eating some chicken and tomatoes I picked up from Sainsburys on the way, and Scott is reading some London leaflets that some tourists have left there, and then some tourists walk up to us from the next table and say, have we left some leaflets here, and Scott says, yes, and then the tourists say, OK can you give them back to us when you’re done and Scott says, OK, and then 20 minutes later the tourists come back and say, can we have our leaflets back now and Scott gives them back. I would have given them back the first time round. In fact, I wouldn’t have picked them up in the first place.
Then we go to over to Marks & Spencer’s where I buy six new pairs of underwear for £22.50 (buy 3 and get 3 half price), underwear which is a new low in my gay career, because these are big, baggy, frumpy boxer shorts with either checks or stripes, and no gay at my age who goes to the gym and loves/hates himself as much as I do would be caught wearing. I like that.
Then, Scott goes home and I go to a venue called the Mermaid Theatre in Blackfriars, where some guy called Brett Anderson is playing a concert. This guy used to be the singer of a band called Suede, a band which I’ve gone on about so much in the past that I don’t need to say anything else. No wait, I’ll say that seeing Morrissey in concert on Friday followed by seeing Brett Anderson in concert on Monday is one of the main reasons why I’ll always live in London – with the occasional short break here and there.
So Brett Anderson goes on stage at 2030 and he wastes an hour of our lives going through all his solo material, but then there’s an interval and he comes back and plays 16, yes 16, Suede songs. I have to give a list of these songs, because if any Suede fans are reading this they’ll be very excited, the rest of you can skip through to the end:
The Living Dead
My Dark Star
The Still Life
The Wild Ones
By The Sea
The Two Of Us
The Asphalt World
Everything Will Flow
Oh yeah and before playing Trash he says are there any requests, and everyone shouts a million songs, even though most people shout for The Killing Of A Flashboy and I shout for Stay Together, and when he plays Trash that nobody asked for I leave the concert in quiet, dignified protest.
On the journey back home, it’s now past 2300 on a Monday night so the only people on the tube are tourists who have nothing better to do and one group of those tourists are these four American kids (aged 18-22 I guess), clad in the usual American college boy gear and making loud conversation, so naturally I walk near them and wait for the next train listening in to their conversation.
And that’s when one of them says, OK I’m gonna say the name of a country and you’ll say the first word that comes in your head.
So he says: “Colombia”, and one of the other guys says: “British”. And the first guy says: “what”? And the second guy says: “British. As in British Columbia”.
And that’s the final hit I need this Monday night to send me into