Edinburgh Pie / Volume 3 March 14, 2016 07:46

I travelled all that way for a munch on Prosumer's pie on Saturday morning and didn't get so much as a sniff of it (his pie). It turns out that Prosumer had invited me to chomp on his pudding on the Friday, NOT the Saturday, so when I arrived at his house I was told by his butler that he was abroad DJing. I'd got my Fridays and my Saturdays mixed up again. I'm always doing that, ladies and gentlemen.

I arrived back in London yesterday from Edinburgh - I went there especially to eat some of Prosumer's apple pie. Upside down smiley face. Edinburgh is a nice enough city, but I found telling everyone I spoke with that I was from London, and therefore superior, quite wearing. After a long afternoon of drinking bottles of lager in the smallest pub in the world, I fancied getting absolutely fucking terminated on ecstasy E tablets in a proper club, so I went on a fruitless search for the famous Sub Club; home to Optimo, Harri and Domenic and, probably, Slam. Marcus Worgull was playing on Saturday night, and I like him.

Up and down Grassmarket, all around the castle, stepping around the thousands of scattered and shit-faced homeless: nothing. I saw flyers for DJ Rolando at a club I can't remember the name of, but nothing for Sub Club. None of the pasty-faced old Scottish slappers I was chatting up in the Beehive had even heard of the place!

On the walk back to my Airbnb up Broon's Place with a filthy old dirty on my arm who was gagging to get rattled off of me, I finally came to my senses. I dropped my kebab meat and chips all over my shoes, sank to my knees and screamed, "GLASGOW! SUB CLUB IS IN GLASGOW!"

I'd got my Glasgows and my Edinburghs mixed up again. I'm always doing that, ladies and gentlemen.

Yep, that was today's Hotflush Recordings daily blog post. LOLoutLOUD. See you tomorrow.