The next contribution is from Little Devils. They do a lot of touring around the UK and Europe and bass player Graeme Wheatley has shared some of the more surreal things that can happen when a bunch of musicians are on their travels.

February: Dover Priory

A venue that appears to be part of a David Lynch movie. The gig was as wild as ever – the audience barely human by the end of the night. The lovely but completely incomprehensible landlord, Eric, said something like “Your room is a bit cramped and the door doesn’t lock properly” I expected nothing less. In true David Lynch fashion, I probably expected worse – and so – it was no surprise when I went up to bed several drinks later – that I found I was in a storage cupboard. The drinks had had their effect and so, finding a mattress that was at least on something of an angle less than vertical – I hit the sack. 15 minutes later, the homicidal maniac from the movies burst thru the door and said something like “What the fuck are you doing in here? Your room is next door – this is the cupboard!” Fortunately, Eric is the soul of discretion and has only told every single musician who has played the Dover Priory since this happened.

June:Tramblues Festival Antwerp

We were met by the host and introduced to a lovely person called Vee who explained that she was there to look after us for the whole of the evening and that, in true Belgian style, all food and drink was free for the entire evening. Being the true professionals that we are, nary a drop of alcohol passed our tightened lips pre-performance. However, post-performance is another thing – and the Devils went for it! Big time at the festival and then at the after festival party – way into the wee hours. At around 4.00am we were sitting outside of the party taking the air and trying not to fall over from a seated position, when the host re-appeared with the wonderful idea that the Little Devils could close the party with a wee jam session!!! All we can say is thank God the audience were in a similar state and no one had a camera!

July: Maryport Festival

Just prior to setting off for the festival, Ian, the organiser, called to ask if we could squeeze in an extra show. Money talks – so we readily agreed – the extra payment meant we could eat! What we didn’t quite realise was there were now 3 gigs on one day followed by a fourth on the day after. Each gig on the Saturday was incredible – the audiences really carried us along on a wave of frothy bluesy enthusiasm and energy – each gig we raised the roof and played til the money ran out! A knackered bunch of Devils crawled into tents at about 2.00am after playing for around 9 hours. Next morning we jumped up and prepared to launch ourselves once more into the fray – but – there was a problem. Somewhere along the way, Yoka had left her voice behind! 9 hours of bluesy belters and raunchy rocking had taken its toll – there was nothing there. We ladled honey and paracetamol in generous doses into her and poured port and brandy onto the broken larynx – and the show went on. We managed to make the last gig and a great time was had by all – even if some of the songs were more instrumental than usual!

October: Isle of Wight Weekender

We played an acoustic set in the afternoon which somehow managed to set off the fire alarm – but this didn’t dampen spirits, and the evening set went down a storm. We finished the final number and the drummer had no choice but to make a swift dash for the loo; so as not to keep the audience waiting, we started part one of the encore without drums for the first verse or so. Or so we thought. First verse came and went. Ditto chorus. Then the second verse and chorus and still no drummer. Eventually, young Alan appeared and tore through the crowd to manage to get back for the middle 8 – he had been imprisoned in the loo by a couple of members of the audience who, with the assistance of a lot of alcohol, had decided this was a great prank. They reconsidered after getting the evil eye from Big Ray!

November:The Hope Tavern

We arrived in Market Rasen as the gentle folk of the town were quietly enjoying their Sunday lunches. Barely a murmur broke the pleasant afternoon atmosphere and we too picked up on the sentiment and quietly got our lunches and sat down to enjoy the pre-gig feast. “Anyone say Grace?” I innocently asked. “Thank Fuck for Food!” said the angelic Pintsized Powerhouse in a loud and clear voice….. There was a prairie tumbleweed moment amongst the good people of Market Rasen – fortunately followed by laughter!