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Bit of a swingamajig and an apology

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I feel I ought to apologise to the ‘Electric Swing Circus’. They seem like nice people but tonight they dared to “step a little bit closer to the edge”.


My daughter has talked about them for a few years now. I saw them for the first time last year at Boomtown Fair in the absolute pissing rain. Then a couple of times at Shambala Festival and then again this year when the girls wanted me to take them to Swingamajig
festival that they organise and run in Birmingham.  

I recently saw on Instagram that amongst their recent tour dates, they were scheduled to play locally as part of the ‘Bradford festival’ and a free gig to boot.  Not sure how they managed to pull that short straw whilst the equally cool ‘Dutty Moonshine Band’ are a few miles up the road at Beatherder.
Anyway, never one to look a free gift gig horse in the mouth, off we went after I’d got in from work.

 

 

We felt that we should go and support them, as I feared for what sights might greet them in the craphole that is Sadford Town on a Saturday night. Centenary Square on a stage in front of Wetherspoons, where most locals’ idea of music is gangster wannabees in balaclavas, riding gypsy horse carts through streets, singing “I don’t fink so” on Youtube.

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The bands’ instagram feed has showed them in lovely places around Europe with bouncy crowds of smiley happy hipster people.  I feel like they may have looked out over the motley bunch tonight and mistakenly thought that it was a homeless spice tramp convention, or like that scene in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest when they sneak hookers in for a party.

 

A man in a Pink Floyd tee shirt who looked as if he had been drinking all week cheered them on as they warmed up, applauding the sound check and shouting for one more tune.       A small man in a running vest, also the worse for wear for something and reeking of Lynx, sidled up to me at the barrier at the front and tried to rub himself against me.  I booty-bounced him away from me and the Childerbeast and gave him a look that strongly said, “Back the hell away from me and my kids”

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I love that you’re here… but why?

The childerbeast kept their dancing and jumping to a minimum with the self-consciousness of being teenagers who are out locally and might see a teacher or someone from school.  My friend, asked if they were the type of band who did the old selfie with themselves and the crowd at the end of the gig.  I said, “Sometimes, but I suspect, not tonight”  They probably didn’t want to alarm their parents into thinking their musical offspring were playing gigs at a jobseekers festival for the pharmaceutically addicted and criminally insane, on the island of Doctor Moreau.

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Good to see the security fully on top of the old unattended backpack situation at the barrier right infront of the stage aswell. 

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See it. Say it. Sort it.

I was convinced I’d seen a one-armed security person at one point – quite possibly due to a previous unattended bag scenario.

Poor crowd turnout aside – the band played a cracking gig, giving it 110% regardless. Not quite the glamorous speakeasy of Shambala Festival or a gazebo in my back garden (the offer still stands guys).  If they’ve any sense they will be already on site at Beatherder sharing tequila shots with Dutty Moonshine.  I was astounded they did an encore TBH. If it had been me I would have been back in the van quick smart, shouting “Leave the equipment, we’ll get more. Just put your foot down and get the hell out of dodge FFS!”

So well done ESC.  I look forward to no doubt seeing you again at Shambala next month.  I’ll get Rhona to bring her mini pan pipes so she can play along.  That’s providing we’re still alive living round here, where the rules of the road do not apply. We all had to run to cross the road when heading back to the car park. The green man was still lit when some tosser flew down the road through the lights at about 80mph, not even attempting to slow down!

Asshole!

Welcome to Bradford. You may never leave. (Although you really should!)

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Maybe I should apply for a job on the Bradford Tourist Board

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Mixed reviews to yesterday afternoon’s Grand Opening of Bradford’s new City Park Mirror Pool.  AKA  a £billion urinal outside the Town Hall to enable the weekend inebriated to relieve themselves without having to pay to go to the Public Loo or trek up to the Bus Interchange. 

Bradford City Park Grand Opening  – A ludicrously overpriced paddling pool.  Very pretty, don’t get me wrong, I like it, but I’m thinking that if you want to get business booming in the town then maybe some shops that don’t have the words ‘Pound‘, ‘Land’ or ‘Stretcherin the title might be the way forward or not turning one of the nicest restaurants I’ve ever eaten at in the UK into a Nandos!

"Hello is that the Cholera hotline? I'd like to report an epidemic"

 

I went along for the ride because it was free and the sun was out.  Although I swerved on the opportunity to paddle alongside the great unwashed and share the athletes foot and verrucaes of everyone from Tyersal to Brighouse. 

I did enjoy the aerial ballet heliosphere thing and wished I could have had a go.  My youngest retorted to me when I suggested as much though;But you’d weigh it down too much mum”

Cheek!

 

It's me.. honest!

 

 

Nonetheless there was an impressive turnout of revellers and it was the busiest I have ever seen the town.  Thousands had made the effort and they were queueing round the block to get into KFC and it was  5 in/5 out to get into Lloyds Bar in Centenary Square (where I spent a goodly hour savouring a couple of Pear Kopperbergs until the hunger of my youngest forced me to leave and purchase sustenance for her).  I say sustenance, it was a chicken burger kids meal from the chippy on the corner. 

I had to queue out of the door for that and then got told once I’d ordered that I’d have to wait 5 minutes.

3 minutes later the serving wench with the hair lip asked me (quite brusquely) to wait outside if I wasn’t ordering.  “But I just ordered a kids meal and you told me to wait here!” I protested.   I amused myself for a further 5 minutes watching to see if the fish battering wench was actually going to dip her wrist bandage into the batter mix before Hagar the Horrible’s wife, who was operating the till, asked me if I’d ordered because I seemed to have been waiting a long time.  “Chicken burger kids meal?”  I sighed.   A light then goes on for Hair Lip and my dry as a bone chicken burger is thrust at me in a piece of greaseproof paper.  “Erm where are the chips?” I ask .   “It dunt come wi chips love”    “But I ordered a kids chicken burger meal from the menu – burger/chips/drink = meal” 

We stared one another out for a minute or two in a Mexican stand-off while the Human Fountains (it’s not what you think) did their thing on the main stage.   The Finale was about to kick off and I still had yet to feed my offspring, who was now wasting away on the pavement outside. 

Hair lip caved“I’ll do you some chips for no charge love”     

Yes… you will love… you will.

Kylie gig is it? Nope. it's the opening of a giant urinal in town