YOU HAVE SPENT FIVE POUNDS
You sip your fruity beverage as you lean on the bar. Buen
Chico politely launch into their opening number, which you (should) recognise
as being from their brand new EP.
This is good cocktail music, you think, as you realise you’ve almost drunk half the thing already. The place is bustling nicely, some sat on the plush sofas round the corner, most stood scarily close to the band. Scary for the band that is. No-one in the audience seems to mind the close proximity. It’s a perfect mid-afternoon festival outing.
You take out your programme to decide where to head next. A
gentlemanly figure gently nursing a pint of ale looks over your shoulder and
mutters in a deep Yorkshire slur.
“I’d check out The Do’s if I were you. Have you heard ‘em?
Good eggs, them boys.” He scratches his chin with his spare hand in slow motion ponderance.
“Though you’ve got Howard Marks in the theatre in ten
minutes, it’s a tricky do Long Division int it?!” he chuckles quietly to himself
then looks towards the empty stage, in quiet contemplation.
You feel this wise character speaks sense.
Do you
