Thursday, 26 May 2022

Fat-Bottomed Girls You Block the View of the Stage

 It's been a while since I last decided to run my fingers over the keyboard. I've been as busy as a one-armed fan dancer, what with uni assessments, handing out how-to-vote cards at polling booths, and attending the Queen tribute show. We have also welcomed a new family member: my son, for this upcoming 21st birthday, wanted to adopt a rescue dog and we now have a bitzer, but mainly bits of beagle, named Daisey - four months old. 

Last Saturday, my younger son and I travelled to a venue some one and a half hours away for the Queen show. We were fortunate enough to score seats at the end of the front row. We were unlucky enough to be seated next to a gaggle of drunken she-gronks who staggered and swayed by, cackling like chooks on nitrous oxide, slopping Moscato from plastic cups and stepping on my son's foot (one almost landing in his lap) as they lurched into their seats. 'Don't mind us,' one shrilled, 'We've been drinking since four o'clock!'. My son, something of a wisecracker, replied, 'So have I.' 

This particular venue has a flat seated area at the front, which is where we were. Being considerate, we stayed seated until specifically directed otherwise by 'Freddie' for Fat-Bottomed Girls. We did not wish to block the view of those behind us, and it's not fair to expect others to stand in order to see just because we might wish to stand (which I don't, anyway). Unfortunately, the Moscato had annihilated any sense of consideration the lushes next to us might have once had, and they decided to stand up and dance. Being on the end of the row, this meant my son and I had to endure what looked like gelatinous satellites squashed into poly-cotton blend swinging and swaying, obliterating our view of the band. An irritated tap on the back of the behemoth nearest me gave them the hint, but it wasn't long before they were on their feet again, miraculous that they could stand given they had consumed enough booze to sink a battle ship. My disgruntled son remarked, 'Freddie sang about fat-bottomed girls, not fat-arsed beached whales!'. We ended up standing next to a speaker near the wall in order to see the show and not block the view of the elderly people behind us. 

Despite that, we had a wonderful night, which included catching up with an old friend of mine who happened to be at the gig. My son navigated for the drive home and we eagerly discussed our next planned trip to see a tribute band, which is going to be an ELO show in about ten days. Serendipitously, Rockaria came on the radio, and we sang along, operatic bridge and all. 

Anyway, that's it for now. Posting again soon and hope you're all doing well. 

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