Studious Rob. Painful Paul.

We ended up finding a pub called the Hercules in Holloway Road for a beer or two. This had been recommended to Bob by a female beat police officer he'd been chatting to while waiting for us to arrive. This was not a nice pub and had some low-lifes in it that we had to ignore, particularly as they had made a pass at my Debs as she went to and from the toilets. I said she was lucky at her age to be made a pass at and she should enjoy the moment. We sank some drinks there and then moved on to the “Gaff” where Rob’s band was performing.

The Reverend Rocker, and Gaff (the drummer). Handsome John (ha-ha!).

As we approached the Gaff we couldn’t help but notice there were loads of people wearing dark clothes with dodgy haircuts and tattoos outside smoking unusual substances, the men looked even harder. Undaunted but slightly scared we entered the establishment. Our tickets were on the door and under the name of Sparky plus 5. Trouble was the noise was so loud the tattooed vampire lady on reception couldn’t hear me, but after a few hand signals etc she understood and stamped our hands with a skull and crossbones (I hope readers you are getting the drift on this establishment by now) and we entered.

The Reverend Rocking N*gger (his chosen name, weddings a speciality!). A rare site: Rob sings!.

In the distance I could see the lights of some optics and beer pumps and headed straight for the safety of the bar, I looked over my shoulder and could see the rest following. After some more shouting we managed to get some drinks and as our eyes became accustomed to the light realised it was full of unusual people, including us I hasten to add. Conversation was somewhat difficult so we drank more instead.

Evil Rob. The Rev is confident his membership application will be accepted.

After a while Robert found us and he looked rather splendid in his stage wear. Not the sort of thing we normally see him in but what he does in private is his business. Come about 11pm the Moose Wankers entered the stage to tumultuous applause. By now some of us had had some beers and were ready to applaud anything but I must say the band performed well. The lead singer was a black guy who ended up wearing a BNP shirt whilst singing a song about niggers. I know you aren’t supposed to mutter that N word nowadays but he did through the song about 100 times so I think I’m ok to write it.

Drunk Rob. Drunk Bob.

The volume was a touch high to say the least and I would definitely wear earplugs next time. Some of the dancing was a bit suspect but the evening was good fun and the audience despite their looks where good humoured. Bob by now was somewhat Pis^ed and ended up with a hat on, (see picture) which made him look like something out of the film deliverance. However in that venue he did not look out of place. I just made sure I kept my back to the wall and reminded him that I was happily married. Poor Nick was stone cold sober due to him driving and having to work next day, as for the two Debs they definitely weren’t.

Steve (Sparky) and Debs. Debs and oh so sober Nick.

Come the end of the night we said our goodbyes to Robert. Diarmuid had left for the train and the rest of us jumped into Nick's car for the drive back. Bob gave us a guided tour on the way home and we dropped him off at his house. By the time we got there the girls were busting for the loo and had to dive into Bob’s place. They were both shocked at the state of his downstairs loo and had to climb over a hover to reach the toilet. (private joke, sorry Bob had to be said). Now it’s 2.30 in the morning and Bob’s giving the girls a show round of his Winnebago. Motor home demonstration over the girls jumped back in the car and we headed home.

The Gaff (the drum kit). Jimmy Pursey lives!.