September 2 - Bush Hall, London

The horrid, awful, screeching, stenchy horrors of Calais, France awoke us before 8am.  There was a ferry and we had to be on it.  After close to an hour of paperwork and searches in both English and French, we made it in line for the boat just in time to miss it.  So we sat in the rain drinking vending machine coffee and leftover fruit from dressing rooms past.  Luckily the Magnolia guys had missed the ferry as well and they kept us company with a tour of their bus.  Inspired, we are going to install a Playstation on Gorm the Old in place of the rear view mirrors.

Crossing the English Channel was windy, murky, and listy.  Mike ordered English wax sausage and traditional grey, crumpled eggs.  When in Rome.  After watching sons watch their fathers play Elvis-themed video gambling machines, listening to vomiting in the stall next to me, and spilling coffee all over my hand, the Pride of Dover approached Great Britain and its dramatic white cliffs.

Greg was the first to drive in Good Britain, on the left side of the street (also known as the wrong side).  There's a lot of stories and histories and facty reasons about why the Brits drive on the left.  The fact that I believe the most states that when King Bangersbubble of Mashburry visited the Isle of Mushysqueak he walked on the left side of the moat where the fish were already dead and easier to catch, fry, and immediately serve.

Dover became "Do Over" when we took the wrong exit on our first turnabout.  But we adjusted to driving incorrectly very well.  In So-So Britain, they charge tour busses a ridiculous amount of money to park in London.  Gorm the Old became the shuttle bus for Magnolia between the club and the notoriously boring Slough.  While John drove the shuttle we watched Stroszek, ate peanut butter and nutella half-sandwiches and had somewhere to put our legs.

I got my geek on as we drove into Shepherd's Bush, birthplace of The Who.  I couldn't find John Entwistle or Keith Moon though.  I heard they were busy forming the New Yardbirds.

Bush Hall is an ornate former billiards hall, decked out in cream and red.  

It looks gorgeous, and though the sound was a bit boomy, I loved playing this room.  It was refreshing to speak English and almost be understood, just like at home.  We played "Rough n' Ready" for the first time since 4th of July at The Taste of Chicago.  It was loud.  We were loud!  Alan smashed a Rickenbacker, Greg swung the microphone like a lasso, I exploded gunpowder in my 9-piece Premier kit, and Mike just looked bored.  John wanted to be nicknamed "Rabbit" for some reason.

Afterward, John shuttled Magnolia back to Slough while the rest of us walked around Shepherd's Bush, pissed on Kronenbourg tall boys.  In Agravating Britain the bars close at midnight, and if you walk into one just before midnight you are greeted with "get out."  This meant I had to find a place to piss, and a dark stairwell in Bush Square was chosen.  While John was still shuttling in the pissy London drizzle, we met up with Roddy, a friend from the internet.  He and his friends Matthew and Moe were kind enough to give us more beer, including a Czech version of Budweiser that kicks the piss out of America's king of swill.  Meanwhile John was having a hard time finding Roddy's flat and texted Greg to say that he was pissed.  We weren't sure how to interpret that.

It made for a swell night in Decent Britain.