Did you know of the ROAD. The magical journey from one place to another? John and Dip and Vincent and Miriam squandered the rent money for the tickets to Belfast. They played in a show to a man. One man. The Alvy Singer Effect and The Dead Plants tried to make the room seem less big. Vincent drank the bad Guinness and Dip fell asleep on the oh so deserted floor. Belfast embraced the band, then spat them out quietly urging them to keep their mouths shut. The Vegans offered food as payment. The Band went for a fry up. Some crafty bastard put a bomb on the line to delay the train for them. There was synergy of adversity.

The Alvy Singer effect was in full effect. Surly Drogheda had heard nothing of it’s kind before nor will they again. Simon and Rory joined the boys. Still no sign of Lisa. Vincent and dip drank so much cheap chemical beer that they had to sit on the floor and try to play their instruments. They made a noise akin to copulating chainsaws. Dip said, to the mic, we are available for your weddings. A room of tracksuits failed to laugh. The barman served green Guinness while the regulars fought on the dance floor. Of the band he commented: You sound like heavy metal samba. The tracksuits offered Vincent pills and free pussy in a language unknown to civilisation. The band slept in Clares house and got breakfast in return. The road is a cruel master.