Monday 13th Paris, France, La Bataclan
Ah, gay Paris!
Today marks the upteenth time that Cradle have played the French capital but only the third time playing away from the sordid length and breadth of the Champs-Elysee, where the last time Dani was there, he was beaten up quite severely by the French Police and imprisoned overnight for breaking a lamp in his room and conducting an argument from his balcony with his wife, who was also manhandled, bruised and told to fuck off for being English. Ah, the old rustic charm of the place.
So he at least was grateful for the change of address today, i.e. not prison.
I believe the band have played this venue once before on the 'Damnation And A Day' tour in 2003 and i can see immediately why they like it. Typically French and very Folies Bergere, the venue is essentially an old theatre and typically run down, but in a quaint, antiquarian kinda way that is reminiscent of so many of these old Parisian venues. Breakfast is served at the bar and almost immediately there are television interviews for Paul and Dan upstairs in the dressing rooms.
There are some really colourful characters on display here today including the man who comes dressed up as the eighth member of the band and several girls who don't seem to have actually got dressed at all! All of this is being televised out across the megastore and every now and then everyone cranes their necks up to see Charles undertaking his best Christ impression, what with his highlighted beard and moustache combo, all lit up in heavenly relief.
Afterwards and with freebies claimed, the band head upstairs to munch on hors d'oeuvres and peruse their albums and then it's back to the venue through the crowded rush-hour traffic. It is here that we glimpse our first sight of Christmas livery, with many of the shops on the Rue Etienne Marcel and the Place des Victoire totally bedecked in sparkling lights like fizzy bubbles in a champagne flute. As we make our way around the rest of Europe no doubt this will become an ever-increasing sight, as we draw nearer to the dreaded Xmas holiday season. But for now this is all the magic we get, for no sooner have they disappeared into the lengthening night than the sight of the venue looms up ahead and before we know it the Deathstars have taken to the stage.
We watch from the upstairs balcony as all hell breaks loose down below and on several occasions have to slink back into the shadows to avoid detection from the audience members. They go down a storm (despite the onstage mock-fellatio, i mean girls fine, but men...?) and soon it's time once again for the Filth to do their thing.
The set-list stays the same again tonight as last night worked well and the band hit the stage to an uproar despite the muddy sound. Paul's in-ears keep slipping out due to the stifling heat on stage and more fans are shouted for to cope with the intense rise in temperature, but despite this everything goes well and the crowd are manic and insatiable to say the least. How anyone can be standing by the end of the hour and a half set is beyond my girlie comprehension, but standing they are and still in high spirits.
After the show i hasten outside to talk to some fans and to grab some proper refreshment from a bar, namely champagne. There is a girl here who has travelled all the way from Morocco to see the band play, as well as a mum and daughter who insist on wanting to fuck anyone willing from the band. Together. The offer is politely declined, much to their disappointment (well, after all this isn't Cradle Of Milf!) and the band, having picked off the stragglers wanting autographs, retire once more to the bus to smoke, watch Dave play American football on the playstation (yawn!) and run up and down the aisle in their underwear until the futility of it all kicks in and they retire to their respective bunks to read, sleep and masturbate. Delete where not applicable.
Tomorrow is a travel day which means parking up in some small provincial town, getting a hotel room to shower in and heading out for more shopping and some fine French cuisine.
Viva la fucking France!