All Alone with Meatloaf’s Mum
There’s always an element of apprehension when we book a “turn” at the club as there is no way of predicting what we are going to get unless you are brave enough to conduct some serious market research amongst local clubland. Likewise you cannot satisfy everybody and most of us turn up knowing that no matter how bad it might turn out at least its a few quid in the coffers towards the electric bill. Touch wood and so far no major disasters at least if you discount the act that kept blowing the fuses all night – note to promoter keep the ovens off when the turn is on – and a lot of good fun. So once again we had a full house all sat in eager anticipation of the latest act booked by our very own Brian Potter, Molly the club’s Chairman. In many ways it was a sad evening as Our Brian had lost his mum after a very long illness only a few hours previous and so was in need of a good drink and, for once, the chains were unleashed by Mrs Potter on “medicinal grounds”.
Last night we had a Meatloaf lookalike from Dewsbury together with a young Chrissie Hynde clad for most of the night in clingy, split leather which certainly kept the punters fixed in their seats. She brought tears to their eyes in more ways than one with her trademark splits prompting one local, Lusty Linda to try it only to prove that a crate of Magners and poise and grace on the dance floor do not work well together. The night did not kick off well though as, due to be here around half past six a very tetchy Meatloaf’s mum barged through the door having traversedAll Alone Roadfor the last hour in combative mode. I tried to explain that I was not responsible for the inadequacies of either satellite navigation or our “stage” which is the bit of the carpet where the pool table normally sits. She gave it a hard look and for one moment I thought Our Brian had booked Simon and Garfunkel…artistes…what a temperamental bunch.
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
Given at this stage the only punters we had in the place were Shutty’s missus and the kids the night was not looking promising. As usual we had splashed the cash on the Co-Op’s value tortilla range guaranteed to get the locals thirsty as a desert rat with enough salt to destroy the taste buds as well enabling the local ale to flow down almost unnoticed. In terms of a culinary experience it’s a bit like eating damp sandpaper. Meatloaf’s mum was not happy though as she surveyed our “arena”.
“Have you got a smoke alarm here?” she asked to which the obvious answer was yes we had. “It’s just that we do a smoke and light show and once that smoke starts pouring out you’ll have more fire engines outside your door than you can count” She had obviously not noticed that our drive is that narrow the only fire engine getting down there is a toy one. Bloody hell I thought, Our Brian has really booked a top turn this time. Own lights and smoke…no need to stand behind the bar all night flashing the wall lights on and off this time.
Once I had rung the alarm company and warned them of wailing sirens from the Villas Meatloaf’s mum started to set up the rigging whilst Meatloaf himself tucked into a few pints of Carling to loosen his vocals and the delectable Chrissie retired to our luxury changing rooms…the disabled toilet.
Paradise by the Dashboard Light
With tension mounting and a packed audience now sat expectantly including a VIP party of our Saturday night regulars having per-booked front row seats via Ticketmaster smoke began to seep through the toilet doors and the music blared into life. Out came Dewsbury’s very own Meatloaf to rapturous applause and Lusty Linda waving her arms around frantically causing her low cut top to battle vainly to keep its contents under control. They were definitely not French silicone falsies in need of removal and many an elderly head was clipped including my dads with eyes redirected by dismayed wives back towards Meatloaf.
Watching from the protection of the bar it was a tense beginning as Meatloaf seemed intent on covering Bat Out of Hell in its entirety and stern faces sat in the VIP lounge which was understandable as they had run out of tortillas. Oh dear the next committee meeting could be a long affair. Fortunately though, the door opened again and this time Chrissie rescued Our Brian and me from a public lynching as she captivated the crowd even more than Lusty Linda’s plunging neckline. Even Haighy our Presidente was tapping away merrily as the duo put on three excellent sets ranging from Meatloaf to the legendary Bay City Rollers. By gum the club was rocking!
All Revved Up With No Place To Go
Soon it was all over with the club’s stock of Magners decimated, the VIPs escorted into their private taxis and lookalike Meatloaf’s mum relaxing with a pint of our famous taste-alike orange coloured lookalike orange cordial…we do things in style at the Villas. Three encores, rapturous applause and my dad taking photos of anything that moved but mainly Lusty Linda who was still showing signs of life despite collapsing in a heap having failed at another attempt at the splits. It was time to lock up and depart…until the next time…what will Our Brian come up with next?
Paul Thompson says
Get Idle Pop booked no mess! Great band if I say so myself!
Wendy O'Malley says
Great read Mr Wilson,loving the coverage on Lusty Lynda!!!! Yes indeed your dad was very taken with her Gok Wan dress, that does exactly what it says on the tin,”getting the bangers out on display”
great night as always!!!!