23/06/2012 19:52 BST | Updated 23/08/2012 06:12 BST

Tales From the Middle of Nowhere (Vol. 2): Where the Cold Is Killing Me

Comrades... this cold is fucking killing me (man!).

Horrible, horrible couple of days. I fucking hate being a sick boy. It's at times like this I wish I was still in a band so I could just shuffle onstage and stand at the back. Not good.

Anyway... all that being said Gdansk was great. What a lovely place. Super nice people.

Did a great show in one of the fan parks. There were English, Irish, Germans, Greeks, Italians and even a few locals there. Lively bunch and all. There was a brilliant sign being held up all the way through the gig that simply read "I LOVE BLUR!!" (the word love being substituted for a love heart). Someone must've made that in the 90s and just bided their time on the off chance that ONE DAY one of those Gallagher boys would be in town. I did laugh.

Legged it sharpish back to the hotel. Sniffling. All bunged up. Horrible. So I'm not sleeping too well, (as you can't breathe all that well with a cold innit?), when at 6am on the dot the fucking fire alarm goes off in the hotel!!! Now usually these things don't last for more than five minutes but this time the bastard hotel was EVACUATED!!!!!! It was barely getting light AND it was raining. So I'm stood outside in a proper fury. Fucked. Colded up to raas when what could only be described as a fucking fat idiot marches up to me and with no pre-amble put's his fat fucking idiot arm around me pulls out his fat fucking idiot phone and says... (and you KNOW what's coming next!)... "quick picture?" My response can only be described - visually - like this:


It's SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING!! We've been evacuated from our beds in the rain and your first thought (after checking if the buffet was open presumably) is to start mithering for a fucking picture?? Seriously?

Fuck off!!!