Playing different venues every week means you can never tell how a gig will end up. Even if you’ve played a particular club before and you know its always went well, there is always that chance of the dynamics in the room being wrong, which is trade talk for a cunt in the audience being a cunt. That’s maybe a bit harsh as they might just be being an arsehole. So driving to a gig I always hope that it will go well but you never know. Last night though was the uniquely depressing situation of knowing I was driving to a gig to almost certainly die on my arse.

This was a gig in Invererry that is just by Aberdeen. I mistakenly thought it was in a club in Aberdeen that I had played  before but my fuck up meant at 4.30 pm I discovered it was for a boxing match between Scotland and Norway and I was supposed to be on stage(in the boxing ring) at 8 pm. Driving fast isn’t my thing, mainly because I’ve got a shitey motor that makes it impossible to drive fast, but tearing the arse out of that old Citroen meant I got there in time. There must be something sadistic in the fact I was intentionally speeding to a place were I knew people would hate me.

So I get there and notice some kids are in the audience. I have to mention to the organisers that the word cunt may be used. I’m told no cunt gets using the word cunt in front of young cunts.Cunt’s I think to myself.

So I step into the ring, which has to go down as a weird place to perform in and start my set. I can hear someone shout out “gees a windmill Gary” so possibly a fan in the crowd! Things are going slightly better than I thought they would until I mentioned Rangers and Celtic. Who would have thought 32 people from Coatbridge  would be up there to watch the boxing. As the boos started I decided to bounce off the ropes like a battered boxer, purely for my own benefit.

“a used tae like you” was the last thing I heard as the theme from Rocky started.

Knowing the envelope with my payment had already been stashed in the car meant no awkward moments were I had to become Sleekit Stallone and fight for my money.

The words of encouragement hadn’t ended though as just as I was leaving the building one of the Coatbridge mob  shouted “that’s no the Gary Little a know”.Cheers friend…

So thats my boxing career ended, but I’d rather have a stack of shite gig stories to tell instead of “a stormed this club” tales.

Next week though I will be enjoying myself at the Glasgow Stand! Cheers