Sinister: picnic niccy naccy noo nahs

[Honey]

Cheerleaders and perverts,

I see Chris just beat me to the Glasgow picnic report - but that's OK
because he didn't mention anything in the pub - funny that.  I had a
suspicion he'd forgotten it all when he mailed me this morning and
said could I do a report and he would "follow it up".  He wanted to
make sure what really happened I think.

Well the day in Glasgow started spiffingly when, not wanting to be
the first because that's not C!O!O!L!, I wandered in John Smiths and
flicking through their small and perfectly formed CD collection I
found some cracking stuff, including "Songs For The Jet Set".  I have
everyone's favourite Thai listee, Oon to thank for this who sent me
the most fabulous tape of stuff, of which Tomorrows World's "Kites
Are Fun" briefly eclipsed "Je T'Aime" as world's greatest pop song
last week for ten minutes, which is something of a record.

Wow.  Sentence two and I am babbling.  OK - we were due to meet at
1pm outside Fopp Records on the Byres Road for a blissful lazy
butterfly-strewn Christopher Robin picnic - at 12:58 the heavens
opened and it pissed down, which I thought was quite funny.  We met a
huddled group of about 15 wet B&S people (wet as in damp, I should
add) hiding in the shop doorway - guess which dickhead had brought an
umbrella ("for goodness sake Paul, it's a picnic you don't need one
of THEM..").  Chris and Keith looked like bag ladies with their
cheesy straws and dips and fairy cakes.  Anyway, we all bravely
trudged off to the botanics, picking up a dodgy looking character on
the way, some Stuart Smirnoff or someone who "said" he sang in a
"band".   We're friendly types so we tossed him a few sandwiches
without checking his credentials.  When we got there, we sat on a
bench in a line like we were waiting for the doctor, nibbled like
rabbits and fed the pigeons.

It started pissing down again so we ran for the big Victorian
greenhouse thingy and admired a rather plasticky orchid show in true
B&S spirit and Mr Smirnoff showed us his 60s camera he keeps in a
sponge bag.  After a bit the murmurs of "pubbb" from Chris Leonard
got too much, so Keith got us all together, tied our shoelaces and
wiped out mucky faces, and led us off in a row to the pub.

That was it really.  We went to the pub.  We stayed there for - was 7
hours and a jolly time was had by all 15 (approx of us).  All I can
remember is: 

 o Much amusement at Linda's clip from the Daily Record about Arab Strap
   being a "disgrace to Falkirk" (the mayor)

 o The appearance of Keith's genetically engineered clone, Leon 

 o Stuart's story about being trapped in a hawthorne hedge for half
   an hour by a herd of wild ferocious cows

 o An unhealthy fascination with testicles and medical experiments -
   not in the B&S spirit I feel

 o Ghost stories

 o Garlic dip all over everyone's coats

 o Stuart's rain-shrunken dog on wheels hat doing the rounds

 o Chris peeing his pants

It all started running down in numbers around 8 oclock, but Susannah
kept us all going with tales of missing ears.  I can't report on the
rest of the evening, as mummy said I had to go home, but it sounds
like noone else can really either - I wait with bated breath.

Anyway hello to everyone like Anne, Julia, David, Stuart's mate Paul
who promises he'll join the list, oh god I can't remember all your
names, but thanks for coming anyway and especially to those of you
who didn't know anyone at all - we're not that bad really are we?  Oh
and thanks a million to Keith and Anne and Chris and Julia or whoever
it was who bought all the food.  Resounding success seems to be the
general opinion, so there will be more, although whether we will have
the gall to keep calling them "picnics" and stretching the Kitchen
concept to the limit remains to be seen.

Sunday saw a little soiree in Edinburgh with Linda, Keith, Susannah
and Mick, fresh and besuited from an Amphetameanies gig, all stuffing
curry down their gobs.  Guess what we talked about?  Bull's
testicles.  I begin to see a theme emerging for the new LP...

Honey xxx


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.             Ascolta, questo è pish, io sto andando lasciare
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