The Alice Cooper Allegedly

Monday November 25th November Cardiff

Well far too much time has passed since November and an imbibing Christmas has left me punch-drunk but still it is beholding on me to finish this the final chapter of the Sickbus Chronicles tome for once and for all. The memories of the tour are no longer clarion but with my notebook and pedantic proofreader I shall not falter.

They say [who does ? - Ethyl] that watching Alice Cooper is a peculiarly unique experience, where one sees horror, the other sees entertainment. Where one thrives on violence the other baulks from it. So it was to be with the continuing Cardiff experience. Ever the journo I feel obliged to give a balanced view of this day in particular as I hope the next few paragraphs will show.

Batteries recharged and with appropriate downsized luggage I rejoined the Pink One still attached to its belching generator in Cardiff's now famed ad-hoc Coach Park. After purchasing all remaining inflatible sheep from the local emporium we adjourned to the Springbok for a wee infusion despite the earliness of the hour. As we tended to our sheep, Mr Crowe blew his expertly, I glanced over towards one of many sets of cold concrete stairways that ring the Cardiff International Arena and who should I espy hunched in the doorway. Well it goes without saying if you have been with us since the start of this diatribe you'll know. So I shant say. I am obliged at this point for added colour to say that friend of the bus, Mr Youngman, was already in the alehouse too and was hitting the sauce. This may help to explain his unique behaviour later that day. Read on and see if you agree. After several potions I joined the queue cognisant of the fact that the only place to see Mr Cooper in your home town is from the front. Besides I was to be joined that night, by numbers 1 & 2 from the son department and no 1 from the daughter department, although the less said about her the better. My long suffering other half was also in attendance but had wisely decided to park herself with Mrs Trustram, D at the rear of the auditorium, skillfully avoiding any potential gallimaufry that might ensue.

The early security signs were not good as we were pushed hither and thither and invited to queue, there, no there, no down there, no not on that step. But promptly at six we entered the CIA and ran to front and centre where the lovely Mr F and I braced ourselves either side of the kids ready for the night's festivities. The crowd started to simmer as we once again endured the support monsterettes but I was having a blast vicariously enjoying the beaming smiles of the kids as security plied them with water and all the shiny baubles that kept getting winged stagewards. And then it was Mr Cooper time. This was gonna be a hot one chaps as already a putrid sweat laden cloud hung over the throng.

To a rambunctious cacophony the deathly black curtains parted and there stood aloft were Pat and his young helper, gong thwacker in hand. The kids waved their inflatible companions in salute and we were off... Mr Cooper's fettle was in fine form that night and then it happened. Some reprobate winged his pint stagewards striking the great man who wheeled round and fixed the ingrate with the most Mephistophelian, accursed, atrocious, brutish, cloven-footed, cursed, damnable, demoniac, demonic, detestable, diabolic, diabolical, evil, execrable, fiendish, hellborn, hellish, infernal, iniquitous, nefarious, satanic, serpentine, unhallowed and villainous glance that I had ever seen. A chill ran down my spine, even in all that heat, as we were treated to one of the most singularly vicious Alice performances I can remember. Even the kids sensed it and they wisely lowered their sheep out of Mr C's eyeline.

O dear o dear Alice was not a happy chappy, several low lifes sensing this decided to surf stagewards to have fisticuffs with the great man. One geezer did nearly make it until security in a rare lucid moment took control of matters and frogmarched him away. Not too successfully it would seem because seconds later there he was again straining to mount the podium. This kind of set the tone for the rest of the performance and pimply youths quickly realised they could crowd surf and then get back in the crowd for afters. The security really were a shambles here. Chuck the proles out in future chaps ? The kids were safe as houses all along protected by Mr F and me throughout as we skillfully practiced the duck and lean protective crowd canopy device each time a carcass headed our way. Fortunately for us, but unfortunately for other buskateers, their sense of direction was poor as time after time they avoided us and chose instead to kick the living bejeebers out the the barrier life forms either side of us. This was indeed one of the most kicking shows of the tour. As Mr Forsyth ably commented after the show, "I'll never forget this one - my guardian role and watching Alice wanting a fight - it was edgy".

A recooperated Alice in the second half allowed us time to brace ourselves before the undoubted push that was bound to come when Lost in America and Poison kicked in. The crowd was indeed wild by now and despite several aborted attacks our they shall not pass barrier held firm, the kids were loving it. Such was the pressure though that poor old Dee (who had earlier approached me and given me a newspaper clipping about a geezer who was selling his gaff with a sheep included in the price) was moments away from fainting but did seem to perk up later after a water infusion. It did turn out however that she had incurred three cracked ribs for her troubles. I do hope all is now well Dee ?

In a quiet moment (they do sometimes occur dear reader at an Alice show typically during an Only Women Bleed moment) I heard a scream and a scuffle as a well oiled Mr Youngman materialised just outside our no go zone. Seems Mr Y had found himself on the floor and on his way back up chose to, well there is no delicate way to phrase this, bite the arse of one of the front row ladies. Care to elucidate John ?

Schools Out Party Time was a subdued affair given the number of dirigibles and devices that had already been propelled onto Alice's stage to date but Mr Cooper still obliged by joyfully skewering the kids sheep as they flung them stagewards. Fistfuls of dollars came their way and then it was over. Thanks to Brian Nelson we had after show passes and joined a small queue waiting to see what was occuring. We watched a pantechnicon park adjacent to the stage as the road rats went about their roadrattian business until we were wafted upstairs to the backstage area. The kids had a great time as Messrs Dover, Wright & Singer each came out to see them for a cud chew and photo opportunity. They loved it. Mr Dover made polite enquiries about the sanity of the buskateers and wondered whether I would be at Sheffield tomorrow for the last night of the UK tour.

"Of course" I said "it was never in any doubt !"

Back outside we met up with her indoors who whisked us by car back to the Pink One. I couldn't wait to rejoin the gang to hear what a great time they'd had. Whoops seems I couldn't have been more wrong. After a small after show of pop and highly acidic Pringles I kissed the wife and kids goodbye and headed off out of Wales bound for Sheffield. It was then that the postmortems began.

Suffice it to say several of our party seemed to have had a torrid time. Some things were said in the heat of the moment (I hope) that will stay with the buskateers but for balance I will report that several thought Cardiff 2002 will be remembered for a moronic audience, pissed up to the max, flying debris, crowd surfing morons, dreadful sound and the most inept, nitpicking security they could imagine. I think the roseless showers and farting waitresses didnt help either. What can I say chaps the kids and I had a great time and the Chinese meal was a good night out wasn't it ? See you in Cardiff next tour ?

Tuesday November 26th November Sheffield.

And now the end is near and so we face the final ....

Sod that we've got tickets for Alice Cooper ...

Parked up after lengthy negotiations in the Cooper compound at the rear of the Hallam FM Arena we dispersed to carry out our allotted duties. As part of the procurement team we bought a shed load of hooch and dry roasted for our own after show monkeyshines for tonight was to be the last night on the Pink One for those of a northern persuasion who were scheduled to decamp in the wee small hours. Transportation logistical difficulties meant we had to push the booze laden trolley back through a large crowd of Sheffield shoppers who scoffed at our steering proficiency. Once offloaded the trolley was placed by one of the Arena's many doors as a decoy and we, Mr F & I, went off in search of a drinkie and some hot food as we had come over all esurient. We dined on mexican delights and were joined by Messrs O, F & H and in a rare moment away from the queue the QQ herself for afternoon drinkiepoos.

For the ninth time on the tour we were once again to be found front and centre on the barrier despite some initial bizarre security waylaying tactics. Seems the barrier had once again received a fresh coat of paint and was tacky. Alice was to show his amazement at our efforts twice that night. Firstly we received a name check during Department of Youth "And we've never heard of Billy Sunday, Damon Runyon, Sickthings or couth" said Alice and pointed a gnarly digit at us all. As a prelude to the second "moment" it seems that Ren was dispatched along the front barrier to determine our lavatorial fitness and partially satisfied he proffered 13 VIP after shows to us as it seemed the Master wanted to take an even closer look at this strange Sickbussian variety of UK Cooper fan. Who were we to let the man down ?

Alice seemed quite taken aback when all 13 of us traipsed into his dressing room. We queued up (yep we are experts at that) as Alice signed an item for us all. I got our mutual strangulation photo from last years pow wow signed, others got tshirts and cds signed and I even saw a Christmas Card and Birthday Card get the Cooper treatment.

As we all hovered round Alice for the obligatory team photo I seized my chance. I sidled crustacean like up to the man and just before the flash flashed I hissed in Alice's nearest ear. "You killed my sheep Dolly". Its fair to say he was slightly taken aback by this strange course of events and tried to edge away. Fortunately his way was blocked by fellow buskateers. He was trapped so I persisted "You killed Dolly my inflatible Ovine in Bournemouth last week - what do you have to say for yourself !" "Aah it was you" he riposted. "I didn't understand the significance of the sheep until after that show when Pete (Freisen) told me a particularly disturbing story about a sheep on the edge of a cliff - you're sick !" There was an enormous flash and we were once again (do you remember this photo from last year don't you) partly blinded. Being called sick to my face by Alice Cooper I took as an enormous compliment (anyone in or out of their right mind would, wouldn't they ?) that obviously made me grin because what could have been an ugly international incident was instantly diffused. Mr Forsyth sensing my relief suggested to Alice that maybe he might like to use the murder of Dolly instead of the Chicken incident the next time he met the press. Alice graciously declined saying "O no I think I'll leave that for Marilyn !"

It seems I wasn't the only buskateer to verbally harass Alice either as Jackboot Jill took the opportunity to give Alice an impromptu German pronunciation lesson re: Mein Kampf. Alice finally thanked us all for doing all the shows and after a prevalence of hand shaking we were back in the corridor. O bugger I exclaimed realising I'd left my coat in the dressing room I went back in whence we'd come. The look on Alice's face when the mad sheep dude from Wales hoved back into view was a picture. I grabbed my coat and left with Alice's audible sigh of relief echoing in my ear.

Ensconced back in a beer soaked anteroom we sat there well shagged out but were visited by many of the band who wanted to press flesh and make sure we were not going to any of the German shows. Mr Zag appeared first and winced when he saw us. Mr Wright said he had been stuck in a Groundhog Day type fiasco for the past nine shows never knowing where the hell he was. Mr Dover skipped over and hugged me calling out "woah its the sickest of sickthings". Dear Reader I have to say that in all actuality that is unlikely to be true (although I'd like to think I was in the top 7000 of the European Division). Mr Dover was presented with a very fetching hat and set of gloves (age 7/8 female) by Krishna F, the former instantly jammed the fine wollen delights on his digits for a furious foto frenzy.

Back on the Sickbus it was party time as we all quaffed the old fermented a furious Karaoke session ensued although two of our guests superfan Mr Michael and Pat Novak both managed to stay downstairs and avoid having to perform. As the time came for Si, Bill, Adrian, Annie, Chris & AJ to disembark we gathered in the top lounge for a particularly moving rendition of our anthem Sickthings. Emotions were running high by now and several people were seen to be just a tadge damp in the occular department. I hate long drawn out goodbyes but after a series of group hugs coupled with a sworn oath to do it all again soon, Tony, thankfully, fired up the Pink One for the journey south to Kings Cross and journey's end for the remaining buskateers saving me the bother of enduring anymore sentimental tripe...

Wednesday November 27th November London and homeward to Cardiff.

I awoke just as a shaft of early morning London sunlight pierced one of the two windows I had on the Pink One and temporarily blinded me. It was quiet, too quiet. I strained my one remaining functioning ear listening for clues it was ominously quiet. There was no dawn chorus of Scottish snoring or Staines rasping to wake me. And then I remembered they were gone marooned up north somewhere. The engine was off but down below Tony was busily hoovering up and filling several black bags with all sorts of flotsam and jetsam that the Sickbusketeers had generated. We kindly left a rather cheeky little bottle of Venuzuelan Amontillado in the fridge for the Committments for they were to endure the Pink One next. Tony seemed far too cheerful when I disembarked. We (Jackboot Jill, George, B & L, Desmond, Krishna Forsyth & I) sat automaton like in a McDonalds (thats how vacant we felt) as our former pink home sped away without us ! Sensing an emotional outburst I slipped away into Kings Cross concourse headed for Cardiff and home, and work, and bills, and ....

The Journey into madness was over. Had we arrived ? Indubitably Desmond indubitably.........

The Prologue and the Nauseating Analysis Bit.

Well to borrow a sketchette from the Fast Show people. This last tour :-

• Des was mostly pale
  
• Adrian was poledancing
  
• Paul was someone else
  
• Bill was short of a breakfast
  
• Lisa was queuing
  
• Brian was henpecked
  
• Annie was talking to beer in the fridge
  
• Chris was Press
  
• AJ was sick
  
• George was colonial
  
• Si was lemsipping
  
• Jill was tolerant to the last
  

and jollyjon was largely pontificating allegedly and writing it all down and Dolly was dead.

Gratuitous Name Check Without whom blah blah blah ...

The Buskateers - bless you all but especially you Nathaniel.
Alice Cooper - sheep murderer
Shep Gordon
Toby Mamis
Brian Nelson
Mr Dover
Mr Friesen
Mr Zag
Mr Singer
Mr Wright
Calico Cooper
Pat Novak
The Dogs D'Amour
Andy Michael
Michael Bruce
Chris Pavlou
Pete & Dorothy Trustram
John Youngman
Brett
The Dingles & Pseudo Dingles
Gwyneth Paltrow
Mo
Number 1
Number 2
Number 3
Daughter 1
Sam & Mel
Queeny
Mountain Ash Mike
Bjorn Madsen
Matt Coddington
Desiree Biehn
Zara
Jay Cooper
Dee "Mind the Ribs"
Leighton Rees
Andrew Clark
Darren & Craig
Tony B
Alan White
Steve Roberts
Chris Sutton
The Family Forsyth
Sarabeth H
Mary Crowe & Mr & Mrs Crowe
Tony & Mrs Driver
The Lovely Pizza Maker at Washington Services.

See you on the next one ?

Fin.

© jollyjon December 2002.

Ovination by killer_sheep on Monday, November 25, 2002 on Monday, November 25, 2002 | Permalink