The Scottish Enlightenment

Pant-flung rehearsal in the restaurant of the inappropriate

22.Oct.08

I’ve been up for hours now trying to tighten the last nuts on our website. Im an unscrupulous css hack, with no coding morals at all, and its a gruesome result, but it works. Enough geek.

At our last rehearsal an unknown individual threw a pair of pants in the door and ran off. Giggling. We, of course, lined up at the door ready to squelch eyeballs with drum sticks, tighten capodestas on likely-to-be baldy testicles, and thread guitar cables through colons with hippo like sugical delicacy. But the neds were gone, scooting away on their glow in the dark heelies. One of them presumable chafing selflessly in the cause of mirth.

It seems the kids dont like our melody.

The whole evening was weird anyway, because when we arrived at our practice place - which we squat in free of charge, ta - it was all set up with tressle tables and paper tablecloths for some dinner or something. So we had to set the drums and amps up around about them. Felt like the worst, least appropriate restaurant band ever. Maybe if the album falls stillborn from the press, and someone opens a restaurant styled around the inappropriate, we’d have something to fall back on.

The pant-flinging heelie-bourne giggle-ned would make a great maitre de…