The JBC bandwagon rolls into the capital city, not to the venues it so richly deserves, not your Albert Halls or your Wembley Arenas, being an intimate kind of band, we were treated to a cracker of a show in the compact and bijou Upstairs at the Garage.
Popping for a pre-gig drink over the road, it was, I suppose, not a surprise to find Pat and the boys catching up with old friends in a pub frequented by an odd assortment of city types and pimps.
The streets outside were pretty quiet which didn't bode well after Rugby and Northampton, but inside it was good to see the crowds had turned out en masse to send the boys off to foreign shores in style.
Everyone from mad Glaswegians to even madder foreign-looking photographers were there to sweat and have a good time.
The crowd really ought to send Curtis a big letter of apology for talking through his set. These London-types just don't have the manners of us Midlanders. Must be too used to eating brunch in Soho jazz cafes. Sorry Curtis, such a great set deserved better etiquette.
As for Pat and the guys.... WOW! Southern Mark Smith.... Girlfriend.... Who Loves You Now.... Diamorphine... imagine the best compilation lp ever, and you're getting somewhere near.
Sister Death was amazing tonight.... and as for Zombie Love, complete with Richman-like gyrations, well, that was a moment in time which should be captured for future generations of happy nuclear families in their rockets to explain what rock and roll was all about.
Don't leave us just yet Pat..... the youth still have so much to learn!
Thanks for a great week of gigs. Please don't leave it so long next time?
Charles Bradlaugh