IN spite of my better attempts to embrace sobriety this weekend gone, things got weird on Sunday night. Nothing noteworthy to report beyond cavalier enjoyment of the romping Redmen socking it to AVB's lads earlier that day. Good food, funky lager and wobbly bike rides took the place of vermouth aperitifs and Yorkshire puddings, making for a reassuringly left field take on traditional Sunday rituals: "the only thing real is waking and rubbing your eyes".
Enough. Tuesday's here and it's time to turn pro. Tonight we ply our trade down at the Shipping Forecast, supplying able support to Norwegian keysmen the Casiokids. As we all know, you set the scene and there's not much of one in your living room, so bring yourself along for a mid-week boogie and you'll be able to tell your friends in work/uni/your living room how much of a good time you had the night before. Got that?
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