4th of NOVEMBER 2006

What a fantastic day this turned out to be for me and two old compatriots. We managed to escape the depressing hell of the Highlands and escape for a day of sordid fun and games in the manky city of Glasgow.

We waited for the Mega-bus (£15 return from Inverness) in Charlies Cafe and scoffed some bacon rolls , tea and coffee. This did not satisfy one member of the group - The Whippet - who disappeared to the greasy serving counter only to return with a filthy looking black pudding roll.

The mood was good and we soon found ourselves on the top deck of the bus. I was sitting beside the whippet while Gingerbaws had a deaf granny for company. She took an immediate shine to him and helped him off with his jacket and at one point caressed his tattooed arms! I was more than a little jealous.

The trip to Perth seemed to take for ever and I kept asking the Whippet if we were their yet...Thee joke soon wore thin but I love to flog the proverbial dead hoss. We changed busses at Perth and got a far better seat with a table, Ginjabaws bird followed him and cozied up once again (the lucky bastard).

Perth to Glasgow flew by as Ginge and Mr. Whippy (the whippet) gossiped endlessly about the old worthies of Wick. Every single one of them seemed gripped by the ole daemon driiiink and many had died of overindulgence of the satanic beverage. It felt like I was sitting on the bus with three old wifies but none the less it was fun to listen to their lips flapping about "'is cheel and 'at ain". At one point Ginge boasted that he could easily handle his drink these days and new when it was time to slow down and when to stop; this would later prove to be far from the truth.

Glasgow!!! At last we had arrived and the plan was to make immediately to McClays Guest Hoose, "'Tis only a five minute walk",announced the Whippet and off he flew with Gingerbaws and my good self struggling to keep up. Down filthy streets we did fly and up dingy alleyways, past beggars and rancid whores and ugly wee neds and pretty girls in short skirts with bare legs. Up steep littered hills and down the other sides, on and on we traveled. Ginger and I were totally lost but the homing Whippet led us true and soon we were enjoying the basic but clean rooms of the McClays guest hoose. I thought I would have a bit of a snooze then a cuppa before spending a couple of hours "doon the toon". BUT NAY! It was full steam ahead, Ginge and Mr. Whipps were rattling on the door to my room... " We must away and search every record store in this fabled if filthy city and behave like the overawed bumkins we are!" I gave in without a fight but implored them not to point at things.

We ran as fast as possible to keep up with the Whippet and by time we hit the toon centre we needed food... what kind or quality we did not care. We ended up in Burger King with double bacon cheese burger meals; Ginge and Whipps went for the XL (greedy bastards). Half way through our burgers we noticed how filthy the place was, the table was greasy as hell and we were surounded by Glasgow wifies complaining about the state of the place. Never the less we ate up and left.

The next part of the day was the only real downside of the trip.... shop after shop after shop.... staring at rack after rack of CDs and DVDs and books, fuck me it was boring. With the advent of online shopping we no longer have to be amazed at the amount of stuff available to the City-dweller, we can have it all delivered straight to our door at a considerably cheaper cost. My friends... this was boring. Next time I suggest we go and see a film.

Eventually we found ourselves back at McClays, I had a short snooze but around 4:45 we thought a leisurely couple of pints would be in order before the main event ... MOTERHEAD!!! And off we jolly well went.

We started off in some Irish pub that Ginger had to visit. He has a thing about Irish pubs that I just don't get. They all look the same and they are about as Irish as an American dressed as a leprechaun. This particular establishment was as you would expect, and didn't even feature Irish music! The only thing that I can recommend about it is the draft Guinness and the tasty serving wenches who have the ability to draw a clover on the head of your pint.

At the table I sipped my pint and made a remark to Whippet, I turned to see what old Gingerbaws thought... oh christ, he had already finished his pint. I downed mine and got the second round in. Before I was half way through it Ginga decided another round was in order. I could see where things were headed and I am the first to admit I am no hardened drinker so I said I'd have a half of Guinness.... This brought hoots of laughter and derision from by companions; Ginge refused to buy a half in case the bar-wench thought we were poofs! I gave in and ordered a pint... that would prove to be my undoing. We were really getting in to the spirit now and when a whiskey arrived for Ginger-arse whippet and I gave each other a knowing look.

Not being used to 3 pints in twenty minutes I was well merry now and jokingly suggested we Knock Motorhead on the head and get pissed instead... "Motorhead Motorshmed... let's just get pished". Someone suggested we could just buy a live album. Whippet, ever the voice of reason reminded us there would be a bar at the gig and we all gave a hurrah!

We left the "Irish Pub" and headed towards the Carling Academy... plenty of time for another pint announced Whippy and sped off towards some awful rock club... luckily it was stowed out with old rockers so we decided on the far more friendly "old mannies" pub next door. One pint turned into another 3, Ginge matched each pint with a whiskey (although the tight wad never offered Mr Whippy or I one!). There were some right tarty looking women in the pub, just my type, mid forties plenty of slap and already half drunk... but we had to leave.. so off we went at double top speed.

We managed to sneak halfway into the massive queue and took pity on some wee drug addicted ned who was begging for spare change, we were in top spirits and gave him a couple o' quid each. Let's hope he managed to buy some dodgy gear with it and ended his miserable existence with our assistance. Soonish we were in the balcony bar of the Carling Academy, while my foolish friends went for the rancid Carling lager on tap, I stayed on Guinness even though it was the canned variety.

By time the first band came on I was quite drunk but luckily not too drunk to enjoy them. It was the all girl Crucify Barbara. I would describe them as proper old school heavy metal, they looked great and even though the sound was quite muddy they sounded good too, I have ordered their latest album on the strength of the performance. They were followed by Clutch or Crutch, who seemed to go down well with the Glasgow crowd, I enjoyed them too but not enough to purchase an album. Ginga-Baws was well out it by now and was obsessed with his fucking mobile phone! He seemed to spend more time in the bogs than out watching the bands. It pissed me off at first then I decided it was his loss and just got on with enjoying the gig.

When Motorhead came on it was as expected, pure fucking magic. They blasted through hard rock classic after classic, the pace rarely dropped below blistering and no-one in the crowd could possibly have been disappointed. Highlights for me were Killers, Iron Fist, Metropolis, Mikkey Dee's incredible drum solo and the greatest live song I have ever witnessed... OVERKILL!!! My only criticism of the gig was the sound was less than crystal, Phil Campbell's solos were all but lost in the mix, but that should be rectified soon when my copy of "Everything Louder Than..." arrives.

Sometime during The 'Head, Ginge lost his precious mobile phone and spent the rest of the gig searching for it, at one point he was crawling on all fours in the balcony looking for it, but every now and again he would just get up and enjoy the band, leaping about like a loony and dry humping anyone who would put up with it! Although I recon he saw less than three quarters of the gig he still had a great time!?!

***Note to The Whippett and My Good Self*** The next time we three set out to see a band... No mobiles allowed and keep that nutcase Gingerbaws well away from whiskey!!!

After the gig.... maybe best left unsaid for the moment.

Thanks to all who participated in a great weekend.
The Whippet http://haggischorizo.blogspot.com/ without whom none of this would have happened. He kept his head while all around lost theirs, he kept us on the straight and narrow and looked after us like he was our old dad... He is younger than both me and Gingabas!

Gingerbaws; his madcap exploits (most of which will never see the light of this blog) will keep us amused for years to come. Suffice to say his stroop is on a few dozen security cameras in the mean city of Glasgow. He is a legend.

Mowtaheed; Anyone who is worried that Lemmy may be getting on a bit need not worry, he was in top form and looks capable of keeping it up for years to come. Mikkey Dee.... fookin' hell he quite simply is the greatest drummer in the world! Phil Campbel put on a great show in the shadow of the Legend Lemmy and the Colossus Mikkey Dee, two thumbs up!

Girls in short skirts and bare legs!!! 3 old codgers who should know better had a great time leering at all the beautiful young ladies walking the late night streets of Glasgow on their way to pubs and clubs. Bloody hell!!!

Glasgow, the city needs a good scrub but at least it reeks with atmosphere. This is supposed to be one of the most violent cities in Europe but we witnessed not a single bit of trouble. Not a voice raised in anger the atmosphere was never less than jovial, a city of people out for good time.

Me good old china; Mr. Mollofski, for looking after my trusty hound Mangy Molly while I larked about "doon the road".