London QEH, Fri 1st October(5/10/99)

Leigh Hunt:

There was a moth on stage throughout the performance drawn there perhaps by the incandescent stars that are a "national treasure - Half Man Half Biscuit" (copyright J. Peel in his intro) or maybe it was the brilliant lights.

Nigel corrected Peely after the first song, informing us we were watching "Evil Gazebo" before running through the hilarious *Lock* *Up* *Your* *Mountain* *Bikes*. The HMHB fans in the audience whooped and cheered despite being sat in bizarre cinema-style chairs. I think I was 16 the last time I had to sit through a gig.

*Running* *Order* *Squabble* *Fest* was next followed by the glorious *Uffington* *Wassail*. I shook my head manically as I couldn't stand. I guess we looked a bit silly but who cares? 'Luton Town, Millwall, 1985' - does this relate to the riot, I wonder? (Yes - Gez)

"This was a song rejected by Marilyn Manson's people" Nigel intones before an amusing between song interlude about a guy called Charlie Goth. Back to This Leaden Pall again for *Improv* *Workshop* *Mimeshow* *Gobshite*. 60% of people were probably there for Lonnie Donnegan but to give them credit, they did sit through all this noise and swearing though even I raised at an eyebrow at the decision to do *Fuckin* *Ell* *It's* *Fred* *Titmus*. Stony faces abounded as we all failed to hide childish grins.

*Look* *Dad* *No* *Tunes*, the new single, Nigel's ode to "the laughable respect given to feedback" sounded much fuller live than on cd. After deciding that "Meerkats are cliched", *You're* *Hard* got a roaring outing followed by the dreamy majesty of *Gubba* *Lookalikes*. *Turned* *Up* *Clocked* *On* *Laid* *Off* and *Bottleneck* *at* *Capel* *Curig* followed as I realised that those 3 pints of weak lager I'd had in the rather posh foyer ("Are you here for the QE? Would you like a plastic cup?") had gone straight through me and I was dying for a slash.

There was a shout for Dickie Davies' Eyes which Nigel replied to, telling us that they had sold the keyboard so they couldn't. *Paintball's* *Coming* *Home* raised its usual chuckles and in a rousing finale, they exited to *See* *That* *My* *Bike's* *Kept* *Clean*.

Even having to chance to kiss Peel's arse had to be passed up as I dashed for the loos. Stayed for Lonnie Donnegan and he wasn't nearly as bad a I'd feared. I wish he'd covered 24 Garage People though.