well, he ain’t your average manager………
“I need you fuckers down here this saturday night to headline my house party…. “, declared robin in a serious voice, on the phone to me last wednesday…..
now, when Robin talks in this voice you know he means business. And when he says house party, he means the house, the barn, the massive garden, with several marquees, full decor, fancy dress theme, 24 k rig, full led screens and lot and lots of wrnogness…
a few phone calls and a few tweaks and we were confirmed to play….
We’ve known Robin for a while, he often turns up at gigs unannounced and likes to get trashed and turn himself inside out – hes a good mate of our lovely designer man Paul Peach and we like him. Robin runs Picture Works, which supplies visuals, screens, lights, etc. to some of the biggest events in the World… including Glastonbury and the Pope’s speech…
hardcore party head and hardcore business man.
here the facebook chat conversation we had on friday:
Bearing in mind that we are a truly staggerng amount down on this party, what are we paying you?! Please be nice!
lets do a deal
I hate shit like this and I REALLY hate being unfair. What can you live with.
im thinking – wanna do a deal for u
we being getting a grand a gig lately, but hear this:
give us beer/drugs and £100 expenses for this weekend – ? BUT you become our manager for 3 months at 15% for every thing you generate…. deal? we need you on board mate and we can take this shit thru the stratosphere….
3 month trial.. and then you and us decide if we carry on or shake hands and move on…
Sorry, system stoppd then but the answer to that is…
FUCK YEAH! I’VE BEEN THINKING THAT MYSELF FOR AGES. PLAYED YOUR CD TO LOADS OF PEOPLE ALREADY. ON THE CASE. TOTALLY UP FOR IT, WILL DO EVERYTHING I CAN. THAT’S THE LARGEST YES I’VE SAID ALL DECADE. ;->>>
please make sure loadsa beer there and dodgy class a s and £100 forour driver…. xxx this is just the beginning. SAFE!!!
lets take this shit to where it deserves to be. Safe as fuck butt. welcome x\
i immediately posted a pic of Robin upon the sick page and asked the Tribe to come up with a name for him, and there are almost 100 hilarious suggestions, but on Saturday we christened him live on stage…
I was lying in bed Saturday morning and i didn’t feel good….my diet aint been great and i felt constipated for days so i googled:
“I CANT SHIT” and was told to try Prune Juice….
i went out and picked some up and went for a coffe with the Ninjah, who had is arm round me everywhere we went declaring me to all as his new boyfriend…. lol…. We sat down with a Mocha and here are this week’s wise words
*The Master is the person who Masters himself…
*We are ninjas, Ninjah Pendragon and Quim Ninja, we can do anything… the ninja attitude is Do or Die.
*We must crack Japan.
i headed back to the flat and downed half a bottle of Prune juice and within 20 minutes i was trapped on the bog, as my entire insides were immediately liquified and were exploding out of my bottom end, i read the bottle and it said take 5 tablespoons… i had just drunk about half a litre straight from the bottle……………. this was HIDEOUS!!!!!!!!!
i sed YEah. Bunged my entire wash basket and curtains, towels, dressing gown and everything i could find into the massive puddle in the kitchen, grabbed Kevin and fucked off…. :/
we sped off down the motorway and my gut was gurgling away…. Port Talbot steel work’s stench had me fooled that my arse had leaked for a minute and we stopped off in a services…… The Prune juice was still working its magic… i was trapped again and texted Filth in the van a photo of my pain…. so they knew why i was taking so long …..
The party was fat.
Robin seemed to be having an episode, and forgot to send drinks for the band, which made me feel like maybe he fucked up on step one of the management deal :O we blagged beers from the bar, watched some people dressed in bacofoil try and entertain us , and finally we crawled onto stage at 3,4 or 5am or sumtime fucknose…
We smashed the shit out of the place, the system was so loud it was painful, people bounced, filthy was awful and couldnt keep a beat, doghouse screamed like a nutter in the quiet bits, some randoms were on stage trying to dance, nicking my beer, and falling over the place and i kept missing the kick ins and there was an almighty crackle everytime i hit the laptop mouse pad as there was some dodgy lead connecting it to the humoungous system and it kept cutting out… Conker was nuts a usual, but kept his gnarly alf’s nose in for a change………and VJ P&O was brilliant(!)!!!!!!!!!! connected up to Robin’s massive LED screens, he made up for the abortion he has made of this summer…..
Robin was dragged up on to stage during I’m In Love, and doghouse anounced that he was now our new manager and from this day forth was to be known as………………
Robin looked perplexed and the crowd smiled , no one really had a clue what was going on – everyone completely mashed….. as to be expected at that ungodly hour, in a field, in west wales.
So there you have it, ‘Cunt’ is our new manager (short for Robin Cunt), named after he decided not to supply the bands rider and pay the agreedl expenses on his first day of being our new manager (!)