4Q / PMT – Attendance: 2 (who fucked off)

Monday night in Sheffield, Take 2

Two days before the gig I phoned Spike to confirm Blitzkrieg were on the bill. “Nah mate, we’re not doing it.” AAAAAARGH. After all the fucking hassle I’d gone through with posters, I felt like puking. Tried Metal Duck – no answer. Luckily PMT stepped in at short notice. Nice lads.

I hitched to Wrexham to grab the van, and our four intrepid heroes rattled over the Snake Pass to Sheffield. That road is less a carriageway and more a rally stage – I swear one day I’m getting a rally licence just for the hell of it. We met PMT at the venue, Take 2, and soundchecked to… two people. They both left before either band played, leaving only the bar staff as our audience.

PMT went on first (not that it mattered!) and as ever, were truly excellent.

So we did what 4Q always did – turned the void into noise. PMT’s Martin wandered around with two balloons under his shirt, Cumi shouting:

“Hey, where’s your nipples?”

Me: “Shut up and let me feel your tits, come on…”

Straight into Nein Werk, Video Party. No crowd, no problem. Every song an in-joke. Cumi announced:

“This is called Not Now Not Never – it’s about his dick.”

Me: “There’s nowt wrong with my dick.”

Cumi: “It does the bizz, does it?”

PMT’s bassist joined us to mime during 1984. Their guitarist jumped up for Dope Fiend. By the time we hit PMT, the whole of PMT were onstage singing the chorus with us. May as well – nobody else was.

We rattled through Jerks, then there was a row about whether it was the last song.

Cumi: “This is our last one – it’s called Systemisation.”

Me: “No it’s not, fuck off. There’s three left yet, he just wants to go home.”

Cumi: “You’re joking… oh sorry, I forgot about them.”

So we thrashed out God Save The Queen, then Twisted Tabloids, then finally Systemisation – but not before I told everyone (all five of us on stage) to ballroom dance. And we did. Ballroom dancing to Systemisation in an empty Sheffield cellar.

Cumi: “Thank you.”

Me: “You’ve been a wonderful audience.”

Cumi: “Kill him.”

Me: “Kill him, but love me.”

We packed up, skint, and had to scrounge petrol money off PMT for the drive home. That’s it – Sheffield, you’ve seen the last of us for a long time.