This might help make sense of the last couple of months. Last time I wrote anything here I was about to set off for Amsterdam. I did exactly that at some stupid time in the morning - like half past six - with only two hours sleep. I drove to Harwich and got a catamaran or a hoverboat - some such rubbish - to Rotterdam. The vessel (as I might call it) was full of arseholes. But wherever can you go now that isn't full of arseholes? Not that I'm complaining - I'm in New York at the moment and that's a city full of arseholes like no other arseholes. There's no need for TV here - top class entertainment, you can watch it live on the street or in a diner.
But I wasn't really in the mood for that sort of thing on the journey to Rotterdam so I paid five pounds to watch an instantly forgettable film in a freezing cold cinema. I'd just paid eight pounds for breakfast and found that all I wanted was camomile tea and a poor excuse for a croissant. So they did quite well out of me.
When I got to Holland it became apparent, by degrees, that I'd sort of fucked-up on the preparations - I'd forgotten to bring a map and I had no foreign currency. Luckily I had a full tank of diesel. I drove north through heavy traffic, stopping at the occasion services to check the route on maps that I had no means of buying, and hit Amsterdam at the peak of rush hour. I had no idea where I was going so I just headed for the centre. It took a couple of hours to find the Paradiso because the streets weave around between canals and when someone tells you straight on they don't tell you that the road bends around all over the place. I'd forgotten about Amsterdam - it's been quite a few years since I last played there.
So I arrived late, but it didn't matter because they were in chaos due to an all day DJ convention that was scheduled to re-convene after I finished playing. The promoter told me my gig would have been full if they'd had time to advertise, but the date had only been confirmed two weeks previously. It's an old story, a useless agent working part-time from a corner of the kitchen table, looking after the kids while the wife earns the money. I didn't actually know that yet but I was beginning to get the idea as the next night was a night off - Hamburg had just been cancelled.
I stayed in a disgusting hotel in Amsterdam -the Quentin. It used to be my favourite, almost a home from home. But it's been taken over by moneygrubbers and now it's got twice as many rooms as it used to have. Mine was in the basement. I had to half climb over a corner of the bed to get to the bathroom (which was bigger than the bedroom itself). The TV was perched on a bracket, there was no remote, and the wall next to the bed was damp. The window had curtains but some of the hooks had come away, so when I drew them they didn't make much of a difference. I fell asleep watching a Dutch dating channel - a succession of plump Dutch divorcees. Their hobbies all included walking and watching television.
The next night, as I didn't have a gig, I booked into a hotel in Den Haag. I got a bit of sea air and visited my old friend Tintin. The hotel was cheap and nasty. I fell asleep watching A Touch Of Frost dubbed into Dutch.

I didn't know what to do with myself the next day as there'd been another cancellation. I took a walk around Krefeld but it wasn't a fun sort of place so I drove to Cologne and booked into a posh hotel for an extensive and expensive de-bugging session.
After that it was Frankfurt, day off, Munich and then Schwabisch Hall - which should have been a day off except that I would have had to pay for my own hotel room. The gig in Schwabisch Hall was in a pavilion cafe sort of place in the middle of a park - not the best idea on a freezing Thursday night. The owner told me he only booked me because he knew the agent and the agent had pleaded with him to do it. That made me feel great about it all to start with. After the soundcheck I went to an Italian restaurant - on my own, table for one etc. They make you feel like a fucking leper - hello I'm Billy No Mates come to cast a deathlike glow over things, have you got a table in a draught / next to the boiler house / out of sight and preferably near the extractor fan?. Same thing every night - I can feel the other diners, mostly couples, eyeing me nervously and I can tell there thinking don't want to end up like him.
As I left the restaurant I heard tinkling bells and saw little flashing lights. I thought it must be some bizarre local custom, a bit like trick or treat. But as I got closer I could see grown men in yellow fluorescent anoraks. They were all roped together, descending the hundred or so steps that lead down into the park where the venue was. They were climbing down backwards and they were all wearing breathing apparatus. I think they were the local fire brigade on an exercise but I can't be sure. I thought it might be the end of the world, or at least the beginning of World War three but I wasn't too bothered because I didn't really want to do the gig.
I walked into the pavilion place and it was full of children. The promoter said it must be the youngest audience that I would ever have played to. 'Not if I can fucking help it' I said, 'I'll play when they've all gone.' And the promoter explained that in which case I'd be playing to no one, and anyway, they'd all paid to get in, three children to each adult ticket, so I was sort of obliged. 'Well thanks very much' I said. A big fat Father Abraham character had bought them along and they were all very excited about the concert. They were firmly ensconced, busy spreading each other with melting ice cream, and they weren't going to leave until I played. I didn't have much choice so I got on the stage and started up. It took six numbers to get rid of them. The fat cunt thanked me very much as he got up to leave. 'Are they all yours?' I asked. 'Yes indeed' he said, 'and there are plenty more back at the hostel'. 'My!' I said, 'you have been busy.' But it was lost on him.
The promoter insisted that I did a second set so I delivered one to a couple of students and an old man with a dog. The old man drank lager, the students ordered sandwiches and the dog kept barking at me. It was depressing but I left with the full fee. Here's a picture of the weather:

It was shaping up as a contender for the worst tour I've ever done but the best was yet to come. Some dozy twat in a large four wheel drive jeep drove into the back of my car at a set of traffic lights. There was a bang and I was jolted in the seat. I didn't panic, just sat wondering what had gone wrong now. It slowly occurred to me that I should get out of the car and have a look. The twat in the four wheel drive was staggering around behind my car, holding his head in both hands and shouting 'Scheise, scheise...' which is German for shit, shit...
'You silly cunt,' I said. 'What have you done?'
He'd actually written off my car, that's what he'd done. Here's a picture of the damage: