Thing Get Awesome in Norwich, Sheffied; Pete's Corner, Installment #1

Our first show was in Norwich (pronounced Norrich, as its residents are quick to point out), and we quickly fell in love with the beautiful ladies of Au Revoir Simone, who are opening for the entirety of We Are Scientists Tour. (Their name is not random jibberish, apparently it means something in French. “Simone Birthed an Beautiful Sandwich,” or some derivative of that.) They are so hot that they quickly became my favorite band ever, and then I saw them play. Now they are my favoritest band ever. If Dyan were to part ways with the Blood Arm and join their camp, their collective hotness would sear a hole directly to the core of the Earth, altering our planet’s orbit, placing it on a collision course with the Sun. Totally apocalyptic. So it’s a good thing Dyan is staying with us.

One of the best things about shows at Universities is that the majority of the kids at the shows are in University, and after the shows we get to party with them. In Norwich we found ourselves in someone’s dorm room along with Au Revoir Simone and the We Are Scientists, and we were Golden Gods. For one, most of us are older than the typical University student, and for two, the bulk of us aren’t virgins anymore. This makes us fucking cool. We spent the majority of the evening spreading our wisdom, dancing, and signing our names on young skin. The awesomeness overflowed. (The above is basically a ploy to get you to invite us to your parties, because our parents didn’t hug us enough as children, and we crave the attention. (TBA parents: I was just kidding about the not getting hugged enough thing. (Mom: I will call soon, I promise!)))


Also awesome: Crazy Pete of Stealer, our part-time lover, full-time favorite Scouser. He came to the show (which was bad ass), then proceeded to drink us under the table. In the meantime, he started a serial novel starring us (which he will hopefully add to again in the near future). In fact, I’m going to make it a Fucking Feature, with an emphasis on fucking, as Pete is so fucking awesome. It’s called Pete’s Corner and the following is the first installment:

Hello alrighty you beautiful lovely people. The Blood Arm asks for your assisstance. They have lost their pet Great White Shark in Sheffield & are desperate to receive it back as soon as possible. Their concern is that the Shark itself was not the property of the band. It was on loaned from a close family friends after many strong arm tactics and Chinese burns. The performed a séance to contact the erstwhile spirit of Abraham Lincoln. In order to a. find the whereabout of beloved Great White Shark and b. to find out what colour the underwear he was wearing was.

After being sidetracked by The Blood Arm, Abraham began to reveal the secrets of The Great Biscuit Connection. A shortcake conspiracy. This was an attempt to sieze power from the almighty biscuit hordes of Superworld leaders of whose constituency was the pensioners of the world. After a tsunami disturbed proceedings slightly, the black market collapsed and Crazy Pete could no longer subsidise his humble band to perform with his earnings as Blackpool’s leading ventrilioquist. He was unable to even make Cheeky Derek talk while drinking a glass of fucking water.

This was a result of his hands being blown clean off by the blast of the wave. After this his act was not in the slightest inspirational or critically challenged, although he did admit to having trouble masturbating.

READ THE REST OF THE BLOG WITHIN YOUR MIND IN THE STYLEE OF JAMES EARL JONES.