The gig at the BBC was great. Most enjoyable.
I like that BBC theatre. 200 people max. Like a little cinema. It's a bit weird though, eh? The crowd being about two feet away? One is very aware of them. And they stare right into your soul - it was good craic though.
I enjoyed the banter. Right at the end though a blonde lady got up on stage, gave me a kiss, handed me an envelope and gave me the internationally recognised look that means, "You must read this". Nice envelope. Gold. With 'NOEL. X' written on the front. So far, so good. Now...back in the '90s a situation like this would've inevitably ended in a scenario that we'll have to leave to your filthy little imagination.
So anyway, back in the dressing room I gathered round the envelope - not unlike the scene from that film Pulp Fiction where Vincent Vega opens up Marsellus Wallace's stolen briefcase, you know the one? A shaft of golden light emanates from said briefcase on to Vincent's face and Jules says, "Are we cool?" Ok... that one.
So... open up the envelope. A little note... "Dear Noel..." Blah, blah, blah... Phone number... (Ok, get to the point woman!!)
Hang on? Surely not...
D'you know what she was offering?
Free driving lessons!! FREE FUCKIN' DRIVING LESSONS!!
Eat that Coldplay... You might be #1 in England AND America at the same time, but free driving lessons? That's where it's at, baby.
Am currently at Heathrow T5. Flying to the Yoo-knighted States.
Just bumped into Dave Hill from that band Slade!!
In a bit.
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