Now read the following closely dear reader ‘cause you may be able to unravel the mystery you are about to look upon in the following words:
Richo had come home at 4a.m after another night of savagery in the Valley. Drinkn’ up a storm in his cup of... wait for it: BOURBON AND COKE yuk!!! I had woken thrice during the night, twice I saw someone that resembled Richo stumbling in home from his night O’ Savagery on the town, twice. But the last time I awoke was very strange indeed. I’m not sure if I was dreaming but I saw some one leaning over Jamie, almost touching but not daring to wake the soul from slumber. This hazy character of my imagination it seems had long fingers and a rather alarming pointy bald scalp. It’s dark clothes looking more like rags sewn together in a hurry. Its breath could be heard wheezing in and out, in and out. The glint of a knife in it's eye's, yet harmless, somehow harmless. Thinking nothing of it (as you would) I soon drifted off to dreaded slumber. I awoke the next morning feeling pretty much the same – like a guinea pig for the school of lobotomy. Jamie was running around our prison style room looking for his wallet to make a call, Richo was in a deep sleep after his last big hit on this evil damned town. Wesley was also pacing the room looking for his bag in which he suggested to Jamie that his wallet may be in. After an extensive search we found nether bag nor wallet. I got up and brushed the webs from my eyes, my bag was right there near the door but my pants had mysteriously moved from beside my bed to the door which was left ajar all night so little Richard could come back in. I looked for my wallet which was in my pants and do you think I could find it? No, my dear precious readers, My wallet had been swiped from under my nose.

We all looked at each other and felt the ‘dodgy meter’ click up a notch. Upon inspection of the entire room we found Richo’s silly ‘indie’ backpack was gone too with band money and borrowed camera among other things. We solemnly woke poor Richo up and told him the news that we had been robed. Some dodgy scum had come in while we were sleeping no less and partook of our bags, wallets and band money and didn’t even leave a thank you note or a ‘stealing permission slip’. Richard looked sour and gray and upon hearing the cursed news he sprang up and ran into the bathroom, his scream was heard in Buladelah some say. This was it the ‘Bluebottle dodgy meter’ had been rising with every article stolen and finally when Richos screech had die down somewhat and his words formed actual words instead of babble we heard the words:
"... the bastards they’ve taken my turquoise toothbrush..." that was all it needed, we all heard it, the ‘dodgy meter’ snap. The old Bluebottle ‘dodgy meter’ had at last broken its back and was left smoldering in our hotel room.

We were of course issued with another brand new ‘dodgy meter’ that very day. We all went to the cops to report our theft and were patronized with pats on the back and ‘that’s just too bad guys’. What could the cops do about I thought it was probably them that had my wallet. The rest of the ill-fated day was spent at a BBQ in the suburbs. I was feeling 0.06% healthy. I promised my self no alcohol tonight, no – alcohol – tonight...

Night Five – Triumph at last

Pulled up to Ric’s cafe/bar in the Valley and loaded in with people staring at us like we were aliens from Krypton. Ric’s is a kind of cool-cat bar with laid back beats and expensive drinks, every time I’ve been there it’s been full of pop\rock stars talking to themselves, to each other. We set our stuff up and ate dinner across the way at another cool cafe called ‘Fat boys’. Tonight was gonna be a Bluebottle experience with me on first playing solo stuff then Jamie on playing his solo stuff then Bluebottle playing as a band. A novel idea. I found a constant stream of red wine entering my mouth via my hand. The room was filling with all sorts of fans and other people who just go to Ric’s every day of their lives. The Bluebottle collective hit the stage after our solo sets (that went quite well if I do say so) to an outlandish applause.

We had to can the first song due to a string breaking on Jamie’s guitar, we would have changed the string if the pack of strings we had bought weren’t in the stolen bag!!! So we had to make do with a different guitar, a guitar that stays in tune about as much as I’m on time (never). The set was full of somehow newly found energy and vigor. I broke my promise to myself that tonight would be an alcohol free zone for me, but by the second encore it didn’t matter to me. The world for me was as big as Ric’s’ cafe that night. After show entertainment was presented by inebriation, and was brought to you by bloody marys. Members of the over exited crowd rushed the performance area and took hold of Richos drum kit and a Mic and cut loose. A certain member of the audience sung a tune to the effect of ‘com’on baby don’t ya know I love ya, com’on babe lets rock the boat...’ and so on and so forth. The after show performance poetry was quickly cut off by management and escorted out of the building.

So tonight a change of heart from Brisbane, with much yahooing and real life appreciation for we were doing. Sure it felt strange – good strange, but strange never the less. Bris-vegas didn’t want to know about our single launch when we played at the 'dodgy' Buffalo Club but when we play at a cool place like Ric’s’ cafe they came out of the woodwork. The words of Mr. Peter Fenton were left ringing in my ears from the last time we were up here with Crow he said:
"Brisbane my dear boy, Brisbane is the city of the after thought."

How true. But we'll be back, Oh yes we'll be back...

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