Manchester.

A mighty fine time was had by all. Except the roof of the lift lobby, which suffered my PAAAIIN.

I arrived in Glasgow at around 6, met Andy and then became inexplicably lost-ish around the Kingston bridge... No matter, we got to Andy's flat and made a michty prawn curry. After several games of Pro Evo we headed to the QM for a couple of pints and some Vicky related banter. We then came back to the flat and cooked twelve sausages: Four to be eaten on bread then, and the other eight for sandwiches on the train- a masterstroke you'll agree.

A leisurely start on monday morning saw Andrew and I awake at a reasonable time, do the morning things only to find out that a disaster had struck. Upon pouring the Frosties, it became apparent that man cannot survive on milk and 6 broken Frosties alone. We hastily made our sausage sandwiches, packed up our gear and headed via Subways (One for a sub of the day, the other to get into the city centre), piled into the train and got a couple of seats in the 'quiet zone'.

A cool three or four hours later we pulled into Manchester Piccadilly and met Beast and his mates Chris and Sarah. Another train ride saw us in the modern metropolis of Salford. Really, with no disrespect meant to anyone we met over the past two days, Salford is probably the bleakest place in the world. Everything is grey. Peoples hair, their faces, their eyes, their sky.

ANYWAY: A quick Tinnie in Beast's abode, dumped our gear, jumped on another train and headed back into town. Due to horrendous bad luck or Beast just being a dick to us, the first two planned pubs were vetoed on the grounds of, 1: Being full of hippies, 2: being closed. So we ended up in a scream pub chugging down Carlsberg (Boak) and chewing on burger - A quality meal.

Another short walk and a bizarre meeting (A couple of guy's we'd not seen since high school) and we arrived at the Academy, had a pint with Fran and Alison and headed for some face melting biffy action.

Unsurprisingly, Biffy were tight as fuck, loud as fuck, and gid. As fuck. Setlist:
57
Who's Got A Match?
Some Kind Of Wizard
J.D.I
Saturday Superhouse
Questions & Answers
Now I'm Everyone
Liberate the Illiterate
M.R.I
All The Way Down
Get Fucked Stud
Kids From Kibble
Love Has a Diameter
Glitter & Trauma
Justboy

Living Is A Problem Because Everything Dies
Scary Mary
There's No Such Thing As A Jaggy Snake

Inclusion of Scary Mary was great, as I didn't expect it at all. LIAPBED blew me away live, I was beginning to think I didn't actually like it but live it sounded huge. Being in an English crowd was fairly odd on the whole, as I'm not sure I've ever seen Biffy actually sing the first verse of Justboy, as they usually leave it to the crowd, but still an excellent gig.

After this, my memory does get a little hazy.

We met up with Beast's friends Chris, Sarah and Shane and walked back towards the train station and to a club called 'The Ritz'. Andy and I are still not sure whether or not this is intentionally ironic, or just a happy coincidence. This club was easily the biggest dive I've ever been in, full on metalheads, and a girl who insisted on dancing on as much of the floor as she possibly could at one time. For a minute, suicide seemed a viable option.

Then the good news, Fosters, £1.25 a pint. Thank you very much, I'll take an ambulance outside in four hours.

A classic music choice also brightens the evening, as we go from Machine Head to 36 Crazyfists, take in a bit of Korn and Limp Bizkit on the way to the main event, Pantera and Killswitch Engage. This hour and a half of songs is almost certainly why today I cannot speak. At all. The night went on, I'm pretty sure I danced at some point and swore a bit more. Somehow the night managed to not end on the Stone Roses/Oasis/Happy Mondays. After some (long) goodbyes were said outside to Fran, Alison and friends we stumbled upon a Kebab shop and into the back of a taxi, (The driver did not sound happy at two pissed Scotsmen, two pissed English and Andy climbing into the back with Kebabs in hand, although I may have imagined this. ). After SONIC BOOM-ing a roof, and generally talking some drunken pish, we all retired to bed.

10am. Ten-fucking-am. Morning. Sleep time.
*jingly jangly*
"Hi could I speak to Graeme please?"
"Eh, aye, I'm Graeme"
"Hi Graeme, I'm just phoning from the Union to tell you that you have in fact won two weekend tickets to T in the Park"
"EH?".

I don't even want them, I'd rather have slept for longer. Either way, I'm now halfway to paying for Benicassim through TOUTING.

A slow morning takes place in the Beast flat, where we watch Futurama, have cold showers and generally call me a 'cunt' for winning tickets that I don't even want. We then make a trip to Salford Shopping City which - for those that are interested - is bleak as fuck. We have another subway and head for home. Another train ride takes Andy and I to Piccadilly, and we hop on the megatrain heading North. Andy sleeps the whole way, and I finish the newest Christopher Brookmyre whilst listening to whatever metal Andy's iPod could supply me with.

All in all, our Manchester trip was awesome as fuck. We met some cool people, drank some cheap booze, saw a good Biffy set and visited the biggest dive in the world.

I'll post pictures soon.

Y'all ready for this?

Yo.
Over the next week I'm going to be tanning across the country to follow Biffy Clyro in Manchester, Edinburgh and then Glasgow. I'm currently charging my camera batteries so I'll post reports of the gigs as well as a vague photo diary. I can't actually wait, a day in Manchester with Beast and Andy is going to be superb, a night in Edinburgh with Andy, Vicky and Ed will also be superb, and a night in Glasgow followed by some heavy drinking will be some heavy craic.

Also:
I'm trying to get a job. Applied for Lidl, Morrisons and the Spar. I don't really want any of them, but I need the Benjamins, so I guess its got to be done.

Stay Classy,
G

P.S.

I did this to my head.