AC/DC vs James Bond..

That, folks, is that. AC/DC play their last European show tonight, then they head off – apostrophes and all – to the US to continue the tour.

Unfortunately for us, visa issues and red tape dictate that American drivers are used for that leg. It’s a shame; crew and drivers have worked harmoniously together for such a long time, yet we must remain east of the Atlantic. So, to the band: we salute you.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the odd chuckle since January. I’ve tried to give an honest, lucid – and certainly lurid – account of touring. I owe Namibian a debt of thanks here. Without his ridiculous quotes, I may have faltered.

As you know, he became the storyline’s protagonist very early on, providing me with endless material almost every time he speaks. I must also thank him for a brand new thermos flask that I am supposed to rinse out after use before handing back to him.


On the Road again..

You’re assuming I’m retiring from the front line after such a long tour? Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, as I write this, Wrecker Jon is ably piloting me round Lyon’s ring road.

We’re bound for Barcelona where I – and most of the characters you’ve already met – start an eight-week tour for a band called U2, also popular it seems.

What isn’t popular, though, is blogging. I’ve been told, categorically if inexplicably, not to blog on this next tour. Rather than a promotion for meritorious service to the blogging industry, I am brushed aside like a dried dog turd.

The advice to cease, however, shall be heeded, and to hell with Crazy Sandra’s wrath. When she emailed me to say, ‘I will hunt you down and fucking kill you if you stop the blog,’ I’m sure it was just a figure of speech.

There are a couple of guest blogs pending though, so I can’t shut down entirely. And there isn’t really any reason I can’t intrepidly report on a few more cities. So there may be the odd blog still to come. U2, however, will not be mentioned; I shall use code.

Between now and the end of August, if I say something like ‘still on safari’, or ‘our current secret mission’, you’ll know what I mean. I’m being serious, though – no pictures of trucks and stadiums. Boo!

But I’d like to say thank you for following the blogs on both the AC/DC tour and the Tina Turner Tour. And thanks to those of you who have emailed your comments.

Secret Service

To conclude the AC/DC European Tour leg, all this talk of secret missions has reminded me that there’s a new James Bond novel on the shelves. Enitled Devil May Care, it’s the usual terrifying trail of greed and betrayal you’d expect from a Bond book.

But did you know that Ian Fleming wrote each of his rollercoasters in just six weeks? Wow! Could I write one in September, do you think? After all, I’d need only doll up a few blog entries, add a villain – Little Dick, or Namibian as Blofeld? – and recall a couple of femmes fatales.

The unsmiling Namibian need hardly alter, but we’d give him a thick, Bulgarian accent and exacerbate his limp. Hee hee, it’s barely even fiction. But which of my pals would suffer a flesh-crawling death? Hmm, tricky.

I, of course, would be James. Yes, keeping the British end up. Ooh, just think of it: three hundred sheets of besmirched foolscap. All speed, no limits – a gorgeous autumn project.

Reality check: after six weeks at home, I’ll still be trying to boil an egg..