Oh man...just sobered up enough to post about the Nicholas Smith gig in Akron. Totally f***ing awesome.
Iain and I got two seats right up front. Nic's opening act -- unannounced -- was Babes in Toyland, who absolutely ripped. They even played two encores 'cause Nic was late, as usual. He showed up drunk about 10:30 with half a bottle of Bombay Sapphire in hand, staggered up to the piano (which he had miked up through a Marshall stack) and tore into "The Lemon Song" while this giant inflatable phallus rises up at the front of the stage. About 17 minutes in, he pops open the lid of the grand to reveal a DJ setup...no shit...he whips on the cans and starts rockin' the funky beat on the wheels of steel old skool and cutting up samples of Grandmaster Flash and Fatback.
After about 30 minutes, Nic then sat down at another mic, cracked open a 40 of Olde English, and starts mumbling something about Mrs. Slocombe’s pussy. “Just kidding,” he says, and then begins to take questions from the crowd about “Are You Being Served” and his much-publicized toe-sucking incident with Fergie and her head of staff.
Some chick to the right of me and Iain asks...get this... if those are his real ears and if she can touch them. So Nic leans up real close to the mic, right, and says, "No, sweetheart, these are my love handles...come back to my hotel and I'll let you tug on them and see," and he starts tonguing the windscreen of the mic. The whole thing sort of deteriorated from there, with Nic getting up, stalking around the stage, and repeating, "I was told I was going to see F***ING AKRON!" So he busts open the stage door and tells everyone to follow him outside. So Iain and I and about 14 people from the gig pile into three cars...Iain leads the way in his AMC Pacer to the famous Goodyear blimp hangar. Nic, now with a University of Akron skank on each arm...God knows what happened in the limo... makes a few jokes about "rubber johnnys" and "that's more like it, that's about right then." He'd heard something about the Roseto Club, but after driving there we'd told that's a private club, and Iain and I have to practically pull Nicholas off the bouncer. Iain suggests Club 358, so the two cars of people who were left got totally f***ed up there...Nicholas is slurping Jell-O shots off of these two sorority sluts' cleavage when this buck from another group asks him to dance. So he takes off his shirt and pours some Jose Cuervo down his chest while dancing with this group...and the club DJ slips Bizarre Love Triangle into the set. Killer.
I woke up with no shoes in Iain's Pacer in the parking lot of the Akron Motel 6. Nicholas' limo was beached up on the sidewalk with the windows up and a bunch of empty Colt 45 cans on the ground.
I don't remember much else. You'll have to ask Iain for the rest of the story.
Have fun at Finsbury.
- but surely ye's would rather be over here to see the Order at Finsbury?
Is that a picture of Harry Hill?
