Five minutes later both Georges and Stuart come in and we sit and chill out for a while. By 2 or 3am I'm almost wound down enough to sleep when we head back to the van. And there's the Rat outside the door.

"Jon" he says, following me as I walk ahead to the van "We're going to play a game, we're going to hunt you down and kill you and eat you."

In-fuckin'-credible! I can't believe this c***, he's just got my fucking adrenalin leaping all over the place again. I'm wound up to twenty and ready to fucking go. If the bastard was a bit fuckin' smaller I'd beat the shit out of him right here and now. As it is if I feel him fuckin' touch me at this moment I will swing for the wanker.

"Fuck off and keep your stupid fucking games to yourself" I shout back at him, walking faster.

By the time we're back to the van (parked over the other side of the M/way) I'm still seething, it takes me a while to calm down enough to get in the van, (where the Rat is talking bollocks at the top of his voice), and sort my gear out to kip down. We kip down. The drunk Rat is out like a light. I'm trying to kip in the back of the van next to him and George bloke kips accross the front seats. I'm just slipping away when the Rat starts writhing in his sleep. His face and arms and elbows keep threatening to catch me in the face and if I didn't have some of the gear stashed between us he'd be climbing all over me. I keep pushing him off, but he keeps writhing back over me. This is not conducive to getting any Zzeds. Eventually I sit up and start trying to wake the c*** saying "Phil, wake up and shove over". Nothing wakes him. This cycle repeats a few times. Eventually George says "Look Jon you're keeping me awake, why down you move to sleep head-to-feet." Good call. Then at least the gear will be between my head and the Rat. He's kept me awake so long I have to piss. I heave the bastard over to his side of the van - he's a totally dead weight, heavy as fuck - and I get out in my boxers and a T-shirt and stand in the rain, on the wet tarmac in bare feet, in this deserted car park, in October and just piss on the ground right next to the van. I am living in a fucking nightmare. In the thirty seconds this takes me the Rat has managed to sprawl all over the van floor. I have to lift the bastard again just to get into "bed". With my head and body protected from the Rat by the gear I manage to get some kip, 'tho I have to kick the bastard off my feet a whole bunch of times.

Tour Day 17 9/10/97 - DESOLATION BRISTOL

I'm knackered when I wake up about 10. It takes me an age to get sorted out. The A4E / Lottery fuel money ran out a while ago and I fill up the van's huge tank on my credit card, taking me back into debt for the first time since I packed my job as a telemarketeer in April.

It's a long difficult drive to Bristol, on crappy A roads. When we pull up to eat a bit and take a break, the Rat takes the chance to tell me once again how we've wasted the A4E money doing this tour when we should have spent it on recording. And once fucking more I point out how I put the whole plan and budget together at 3am with just 48 hours notice to deadline, when he wasn't about to give the benefit of his wisdom, and even if he had been he wouldn't have bothered putting any effort into the application, 'cos he's totally pessimistic. And idle. The Rat agrees with this but this does not stop him excercising his hindsight. Eventually we get on to discussing how we should go about the album, which at least is a bit more productive.
As we're heading into the west country the Rat wants to buy some cheap farm scrumpy on the way. I am not so keen on anything that helps the Rat get wasted, but we pass a big sign just outside Bristol and we have to pull over for the Rat to procure his booze. He returns to the van after 20 minutes with a half gallon of scrumpy. And we drive into Bristol's rush hour. And get lost. And get directions at the cop shop. And drive out of the centre again to find The Fiddlers up the arse end of a grim industrial estate. The bloke at the venue recommends we not go into any of the pubs around the area, 'cos it's pretty rough. We're kipping here tonight.
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