So I was at the Dirty gig on the 4^th September, having a beer like, and a geezer squares up to me, all casual like, and he says 'More PUNK!' Can't say more than that I guess. So I gets on with drinking my beer. That's it. That's my story.

Except it didn't really happen like that . I got the truth from Paulo later. You always gets the truth from Paulo. That's his one major weakness. Well that and skunk.

You see We're at The Red Lion again. That's alright. Nothing to be ashamed of there. And We're here to see DiRtY play a gig to a crowd of about eight. Eight fuckers to witness the return of a band that do all they can, to shake the walls from their fetid foundations.

As they soundcheck, one of the bouncers shouts out to Stuart: 'It Sounds better with the welding glasses on.' Whatever ya cock. This place is full of fucking derd niffers. And I have a sudden urge to get out.

I hang around for a bit outside and wait for Dirty to come on stage. And of course, when they do, all hell rains down on our arse. Ah tis a fine thing to see a fully flown Dirty. The highlight of the set is the fantastic encore all swathed in screams and cacophony. This is briefly interrupted by a bout of tourette's and then silence once again.

Outside I have a look around. In front of me I spy Pete the Geek licking pavement. Fucking hell, I hate this place. I shout out to the world. 'YOU KNOW NUFFINK, I KNOW EVERYFINK!!!' And of course that's how it ends.

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