For some reason I don't know, and probably don't want to know, the nasty Beorbrand has changed the BBB concert time. What was a perfectly good concert time of midnight, has now been changed to a very foolish 3 pm. On Sunday, no less.
Oh dear.
What respectable rockstar is out of bed at 3 pm on Sunday? Hullo? Excuse me, Mr. Piper Man? Don't you know anything? I guess you just have no idea what being a rockstar is like. Well, of course you don't. You aren't one. Pfft.
Now, midnight is a good time to start a gig. The old people and the young people are all safely tucked up in bed, and the bar is packed with CECs, all ready to party, and mostly half-drunk already. Oh yeah. What more could a rockstar ask for?
And as it gets later and later, the drinks keep on coming and the inhibitions keep disappearing, so that by the time you get to 2 am, even a bagpipe player might get lucky. Well, maybe not a bagpipe player, but certainly a drummer. By the time those CECs have felt that pounding beat for 2 solid hours they're ready for almost anything. (Except pipes.)
But instead of this we get the 3 pm crowd. Family groups. Geriatrics. Prayer groups just out of Temple. All stuffed full of righteous inhibition, and no dance moves. They stand there grumpily, wondering what on earth to do when the beat starts, when the rhythm starts to move their feet. Should they get up and boogie? Should they leave? Should they complain about the noise?
What about if their children hear a rude word? How can they cope with the typical BBB degeneracy? What on earth will they make of Sarasti? Actually, that's a good question. What can anyone make of Sarasti? Well, maybe let's not go there now. And there's Carica, the Drunken Bobbit. Hardly your typical familial role model there, wouldn't you say?
So when BBB gets up on stage, and Beor starts making his obscene hip gestures, Carica stumbles around in a drunken haze, Sarasti ogles anything with testosterone with her tongue hanging out, I stand there looking sexy, and all the other BBB rapscallians spout their usual innuendo, we look out at the sea of kiddie faces, at all the walking sticks and family picnic baskets, at all the earnest grandparents and icecreams, and we think to ourselves... what has BBB come to?
Next it'll be the lunchtime concerts at the Shire Music Golden Guitar Awards.
Oh dear.
What respectable rockstar is out of bed at 3 pm on Sunday? Hullo? Excuse me, Mr. Piper Man? Don't you know anything? I guess you just have no idea what being a rockstar is like. Well, of course you don't. You aren't one. Pfft.
Now, midnight is a good time to start a gig. The old people and the young people are all safely tucked up in bed, and the bar is packed with CECs, all ready to party, and mostly half-drunk already. Oh yeah. What more could a rockstar ask for?
And as it gets later and later, the drinks keep on coming and the inhibitions keep disappearing, so that by the time you get to 2 am, even a bagpipe player might get lucky. Well, maybe not a bagpipe player, but certainly a drummer. By the time those CECs have felt that pounding beat for 2 solid hours they're ready for almost anything. (Except pipes.)
But instead of this we get the 3 pm crowd. Family groups. Geriatrics. Prayer groups just out of Temple. All stuffed full of righteous inhibition, and no dance moves. They stand there grumpily, wondering what on earth to do when the beat starts, when the rhythm starts to move their feet. Should they get up and boogie? Should they leave? Should they complain about the noise?
What about if their children hear a rude word? How can they cope with the typical BBB degeneracy? What on earth will they make of Sarasti? Actually, that's a good question. What can anyone make of Sarasti? Well, maybe let's not go there now. And there's Carica, the Drunken Bobbit. Hardly your typical familial role model there, wouldn't you say?
So when BBB gets up on stage, and Beor starts making his obscene hip gestures, Carica stumbles around in a drunken haze, Sarasti ogles anything with testosterone with her tongue hanging out, I stand there looking sexy, and all the other BBB rapscallians spout their usual innuendo, we look out at the sea of kiddie faces, at all the walking sticks and family picnic baskets, at all the earnest grandparents and icecreams, and we think to ourselves... what has BBB come to?
Next it'll be the lunchtime concerts at the Shire Music Golden Guitar Awards.
I can see you're in dire need of less geriatric attendees...hopefully, I can oblige.
ReplyDeleteI also felt that yesterday's afternoon concert was rather subdued. It was a lovely concert. I had a great time, but there weren't the usual hijinks one has come to expcet from a BBB concert and a BBB crowd. There was much more grief from the general crowd than the last two late night concerts had put together.
ReplyDeleteBecause of the time of day I didn't feel that it would be appropraite to throw unmentionables or elven throwing stars at members of the band. I know this is a family game, but you can be a bit more bawdy at midnight on a Saturday night than a Sunday afternoon. I do hope a solution can be found. Perhaps a more out of the way location in Bree such as the Mess Hall or that lovely stage on the west side of town near the cat house.
~Alinniel of Landroval and a CEC
Oh please. I heard tell some yahoo was going to get castrated if we didn't change the time. Ye of little faith.
ReplyDeleteYou will just have to brush up on your accordian, to please the temple-goers. Balloon tricks, too, for the kiddies maybe, with bat fur...
We must liberate the CECs so they may grace us with their elven-throwing-star abilities! I want a show!
B.B.