Livewire at the Showroom

Asked by local music magazine al-Musikia al-Haraam when the album would be out, the band responded in vague vaguenesses.

 

'Oh, you know....' said the Band Leader. 'When some people in the band actually get it together.'

 

'What do you mean together?' growled the Bass Player. 'Who organised the Harley gig? Huh?'

 

'You mean the gig we seem never to have been paid for?' asked the Kiwi. 'Yeah, I wonder who.'

 

'What? We got paid!'

 

'I meant in something other than spare parts and Harleywear.' The Kiwi edged closer, stray light glinting off his golden Harley t-shirt,

 

Through all of this the Drummer said nothing. Just tappity tapped his sticks against the edge of a large tea box. Tappity. Tap.

 

'Perhaps if some people,' said the Band Leader with an icy look at the Bass Player and his dull grey logoless weekend clothes, 'actually wore their Harley junk as specified in the gig brief, perhaps we might get a look in.'

 

'Perhaps if some people actually rode a Harley,' snarled the Bass Player through gritteed teeth and bike gang tattos, 'they might play a little less like a, like....'

 

'Less like a what?!' The Kiwi stepped in between the other two 'men' and glared at the Bass Player. 'Huh? Huh?'

 

At that point it seemed that it was only the presence of the reporter that prevented an all out brawl.

 

Tap. went the drummer. Tappy.

 

'So' asked our fearless journalist, 'you don't know when the record is scheduled for?'

 

'Oh yeah, sure we know.' the Band Leader folded his arms.

 

'When?'

 

'Depends.....'

 

Tappity.

 

Tap. Tap.

Done