day-glo dreams

I was in Seven Sisters, looking for a club that I was going to play a gig at. After many tribulations I arrived at a crescent of bars. It looked slightly wild west in appearance, a frontier town of sorts, not unlike the set of “Gangs Of New York”. The club was not yet open so I decided to visit a traditional Irish pub in one corner of the precinct.

When I got inside, I discovered it was frequented by a hostile phalanx of gnarly, bearded leprachauns, in biker garbs. They looked not unlike Lemmy from Motorhead, quite warty. Thinking it was just a few such folk at the bar entrance playing pool, I ventured further in, but found there were more and more of these folk. All hostile and quite mutated. Some of them just had stumps for arms, one was carrying a baby that was just a gnarly stump – presumably a baby leprachaun. At some stage they guessed I was not Irish and started singing an Irish drinking song about me being English… the tone of the song was quite derisory and hostile. At this point I decided to leave the bar, despite having ordered a pint of Guinness