Sunlight sears your fragile mind and you raise a hand to
block rays intruding through a window without the curtains closed.
You are in the sitting room of a flat, presumably somewhere
in Wakefield .
On a small coffee table are sat two large glasses half full with whiskey, and
an empty bottle by their side.
You sit up slowly. Down the hallway there is another room, a
bedroom with the door wide open. You can see the feet of a man sticking out of
them. It’s that chap, that guy you were talking to – who was it?
You remember Rob Dee. You remember a group of you coming
back to the flat. Then drinks and whiskey and a guitar and then… nothing.
Still fully clothed you sit up on the sofa and pick up your
bag. It’s really heavy. You look inside and it is full with Philophobia Music
stock. Amongst it all you find a piece of paper. It looks like this:
You smile to yourself and stand up. You pop you head around
the bedroom door. There he is, the great man, fast asleep, spread eagle in just
a small pair of pants. I won’t show you what that looks like.
You leave the flat quietly with a warm feeling inside. Wakefield is awesome.
YOU ARE NOW SIGNED TO PHILOPHOBIA MUSIC. WELL DONE!
