That old chestnut or how I got my first real gig injury

April 9, 2005

So I got hit on the head I can cope with that. So I was assaulted with a flying drumstick at an Interpol gig at Brixton Academy, to be specific, I can cope with that. It's all fine, a little concussion, a dirty yellow bruise in the middle of my forehead, and the minor ridicule of my friends, it's all ok. But to add insult to injury, I didn't even get the drumstick! Some blighter with no soul snatched it the precise moment after it bounced off my obviously resilient skull with a resounding crack (and yes, everyone did turn around and gawp). And it did hurt, for the record; yes, pointy flying objects of a wooden nature landing on the human skeloton hurts like buggery. All aspiring pop stars please beware. Why didn't I sue, or go to the hospital I hear you ask? Well to be honest, I don't think I was in my right mind, and vodkaslut's concerned 'shall we go to the ambulence' soon turned into 'shall we go and have a quick Chinese?'. It's amazing how quick these things lose their currency. Maybe the copious gin- drinking had helped numb the pain somewhat. Oh well, have to chalk that one up to experience I guess.