The Dark side of the Hyde

'Is there anybody out there?' Christ on a bike Roge, are you blind, there's fookin' thousands of us. We've all overcome our mass depression of an hour ago, purged all thorts of Ingerland from our minds, trudged a thousand miles from Notting Hill Gate, just to see you mate, knock off the rhetorical questions and break out the giant pig. Alas, Roger was too busy inflating his ego to inflate yon floaty pig, but we forgive him for that for yea, he is Roger of Waters and judging by the way the aging hippies in front of us waved their pudgy arms and shook their haggard follicles, he is a Rock God(TM) It gradually dawned on me the appeal of attending a Robbie or Kylie concert for the teenies and housewives; it really rocks to be able to sing all the words to practically everything at a gig. This would be a bit smug and irritating, were it not for the fact that everyone, as far as the eye could see, was singing word perfectly too.

Roger was on stage for the duration, and he and his trusty session musos performed a brace of Floyd classics with effortless glee. Except for a brief moment in the middle when he disappeared up his own rectum in search of his latest political opus, the profoundly named 'Leaving Beirut' I will let you discover the magic of this song for yourselves, I am unable to talk about it without losing control of my bladder. After a ten minute break while a crack medical team extracted Roge from his rectal passage, it was off to the Dark Side of the Moon for us. (No Spencer, not his moon)

This naturally, was brilliant. Every moment of that album was executed to perfection, every agonising wail of 'Great Gig in the Sky' every bang clang pip bong of 'Money'. Everything. The grizzled hippies were reaching nirvana by the time that final heartbeat palpitated off into the distance. I sang my garbled version of every song with such crazed gusto my lungs fair ached. Roger couldn't bare to leave it at that of course, and dashed back on to do 'Brick in the wall Part II' but it was fine, he didn't have to, we were full to the brim and anything more was just greedy. Roger, you earned your crust of bread that night. Ingerland, I want my money back.

B