“I’m just so glad I left there, you know? I’m just… I’m just ready for a new challenge and that place was bringing me down.”
If you’re bored by that extract, be thankful you weren’t there to hear it live. This chat lasted for five more minutes, and concluded with the booming-voiced rugby-type boaster showing his fawning female companion his latest gallery on Facebook because “you know, all I really want to do is shoot anyway. Working in an office is a waste of time, yeah?”
Overhearing a stranger’s existential-crisis-cum-seduction technique would be banal and annoying enough if you were in a pub, café or on a bus. During the final song of an Other Lives’ set? Well it’s nothing more than a sure-fire way to boil my piss.
I’ve a huge, huge problem with people talking at gigs, which is about to become abundantly clear.
To anyone who’s chatted in front of me at a gig, loud enough for me to hear DESPITE MY EARPLUGS, yes, that was me standing inappropriately close to you and obviously listening in until you felt uncomfortable and moved away.
I’m not afraid to get my creepy on and I’m not sorry.
Plus you’re boring.