Phuckphitt Phestival- First night

A somewhat disapointing turn out for the first night of the Phestival. Gusset, despite being offered a most generous rider, seemed unable to find their way to Phuckwhitt, and did not show. To be honest, in their communications with me, I gained the impression that they felt that Phuckwhitt and its Phestival were entirely fictional! The Impressionable Jennifers were excellent, and had a first rate special guest, viz., yours truly, but the audience was a wee bit on the thin side. In fact, it was Ginsberg, The Fugs, Leslie, Mrs. Evans, and old Sid Nolan, who was somewhat the worse for drink. He heckled during my performance, and was escorted from the site by the Ludlow Chapter of the Hells Angels, who Leslie had hired as security, at some considerable expense. Sir Sid is not one to take this kind of thing lightly, and was foolish enough to struggle, so they rendered him insensible with some chains from their motorcycles, and he is currently in intensive care at Hereford County Hospital. By the time Bark came to the stage for their excellent set of improvised noise, The Fugs had drifted away, and Ginsberg had fallen asleep; more fool they, as they missed a thrilling show. Ted Milton and Blurt, though perhaps somewhat lyrical for this company, turned on the style big time, but unfortunetly it started to rain whilst they were playing, and Mrs Evans made her excuses, and took herself off to bed, leaving only me and Leslie. Leslie is not terribly pleased at the turn out so far; in fact, he seems to want to blame me, and my policy of keeping the line up secret until the last possible moment. I can understand his pique; if it goes on like this, we do look like falling a wee bit short of the million pound target. Still, fingers crossed that tomorrows line up of second division seventies pop bands will draw in the crowds!