We meet up with Mike and Sam in the King's Street Run and have a mellow night.... Except the Rat who just squeaks by getting busted rolling a number in the park outside... Picture the scene:

THE Rat IS SAT WITH HIS BACCY IN THE PAPER, ABOUT TO REACH FOR HIS STASH WHEN HE GETS THE TORCH-IN-THE-FACE BIT...

Cop:  'Scuse me mate, can I ask you what you're doin'?
Rat:  Just rollin' a fag mate. Me freinds are in the pub round the  corner and they're reminiscing about their old times, so I  stepped out for a bit.
Cop LOOKS AT THE ROLL-UP
Rat: ...Yeah, I'm in a band called Broken Brow, you see, so we  just played here last night and we've got a day off before  the next gig...
Cop: Alright son, I won't search you. We thought you might be  someone we were looking for, 'cos some people do come and do  drugs in the park and you could have been rolling a spliff.

Cop LEAVES, DRUM ROLL, CURTAIN, APPLAUSE WHILE the Rat MAKES UP HIS SPLIFF AND SMOKES IT RIGHT THERE, TO "CALM HIMSLEF DOWN AGAIN"
'Well, I just had to after that, y'know. Get my head together again.'

Tour Day 10, 2/10/97 - SHRIVEL

5 hours hard driving up to Sheffield and a hideous headfuck with their incredibly complex one way system. The Rat kips in the back all the way missing out on 30 miles of roadworks on the A1 and the carcass of a huge dead pig. Mind you, I don't notice the huge dead pig either, which is more worrying 'cos I'm the driver.

We finally locate the Boardwalk and discover that Headvice - the local support band have pulled out at about 3 hours notice. Their posters say 'Headvice - no compromise' NO BLOODY SHOW more like!!! and no bloody use. They better have a fuckin' good reason for blowin' us out at such short notice. Still, Ken at the Boardwalk has sorted out another local band - Gasworks - who've piled in at the last minute straight from work, they're already set up when we arrive. They're sound lads and we get to use their drums and bass amp which saves some unloading.

The Boardwalk is well flash, we've got Metallica's old practise 10K rig for front-of-house and we've got a lush dressing room. While Whitesnake, sorry, GASWORKS soundcheck (they are just like Whitesnake according to the Rat, me I wouldn't know) I go on a quest through the rather posh streets of Sheffield - it's a fuck sight nicer than when I was checking it out with thoughts of going to Uni here NINE years ago :(! Still bloody cold though! Lo! past the McFukkers and the Bugger King I go in search of a Chinese. Frankly, I believe that every major city centre should be built around a Chinese and not vice versa. Being able to buy curry sauce and rice at ridiculous times of the day and night is one of the crwoning pinnacles of civilisation as we know it. I finally locate one (Mei's Chinese Restaurant) and end up chatting to the old chinese geezer who serves me... he actually wishes us success in Sheffield. I purchase rice and curry sauce and some VERY strange veggy THINGS which call themselves bean curd rolls and then I sod off back to soundcheck.

Post soundcheck: George is down and unhappy about Adrenal Junkie on the borrowed kit. The Rat is buzzed and he's talkin' talkin' talkin'. I'm trying to chill out and write, but with little success... 'specially when Gasworks pile in to change and we're treated to a view of Matey's bizarrely huge nappy style briefs... they're a bit grey and, well... bobbly... maybe theyt're his grandad's cast off pants? less than appetizing.

Gasworks play over their set, but frankly it doesn't matter, there is only about 10 people in the 400 capacity place. As well as the original suppport pulling out, apparently the paper screwed up the advert

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