Thursday, 24 June 2010

Evile Infecting Nations 2010 tour. Part 10.

Standing outside of the bus, shuffling to keep from freezing while forcing in as many cigs as I can during this short stop with some of The Fading guys and a Warbringer, we look up and through the clear night sky a huge falling star shoots past us. Later England, Europe is already kicking your pasty fat arse.

Long story short, I am staying on the infecting Nations tour. Hopefully this tour will end at the end of February with everyone coming back in one exhausted and smelly piece.

When we woke up yesterday we were in Royston, home of our bus driver Steve, which was lucky ‘cause the bus broke down again and he knew of a farm that he could pull in to and wait while the tour bus mechanic came out and helped him fix it. So I wake up on some random farm, Arie and Elad from The Fading outside my window teasing a little Jack Russell that won’t stop fucking yapping. Still I’m out the door quick smart to irritate it too while getting in the first smoke of the day.

This farm is really random, we do not belong here at all and even the fucking dog knows. I do, having said that take this opportunity to steal a couple of wood palettes for the merch to go on top of in the trailer. As it currently stands, about 40% of all stock is getting fucking trashed by the water that sits on the floor of the quite clearly, leaking trailer.

Laundry gets done by Steve the driver, Elad from The Fading and Matt from Evile and myself, very rock n roll manly time going on right there. We dream of pub food up the road that we won’t have time to eat, we wander round some bizarre little odds and ends shop and buy stupid gifts for some of the others and we hit Tesco where I score two bottles of wine, all before driving off in to the sunset to Dover.

Me and Adam and Laux are drunk as fuck by the time Dover approaches, and spend the ferry ride stumbling around getting food, buying more booze, smoking and generally stumbling around drunk without our sea legs. And then, it became the Rape Ferry. Oh fuck not again.
The last time myself and the Evile lot experienced ‘Rape Ferry’ was going over from Denmark to Sweden or Finland or something. Scared the shit out of us. Turns out, it’s all about timing rather than geographical tendencies. There is a pattern. Between the hours of 11 pm and probably 6 am, it’s ‘Rape Ferry’ time. I walked up and down corridors just to show the guys this. Lone, stray men standing around, loitering all over the fucking shop. Even by the ladies toilets, which was a nice touch for my experiment I think. Although it was funny to come across it again, it was still fucking petrifying the amount of sexual violence these men had in their eyes towards me and once again me and the Evile guys shuddered with fear. Fucking ‘Rape Ferry’.

Back on the bus, I’ve cracked open one of my litre bottles of Malibu duty free purchases, Malibu is always the cheapest option and you can cheerfully drink it straight out of the bottle, eliminating need for cup and mixer which on tour is handy to say the least. I sit up the front with Joel, Adam joins us and we drink, they chat, I blog, and the ‘Front bus gang’ is formed. I blog until I can’t physically type any more from sore eyes and tired brain and take myself off to bunk leaving the other two talking about music, sipping on Joel’s not so secret and soon to be redundant stash of red wine.

Next stop, and first gig of Evile’s first headline European tour, Tilburg Holland. And we all know how Holland rolls!

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