The deafening echo of her perfume flicked a sixpence across the curve of the verander…
…scented peaches from sun-drenched beaches laid out for a long, lazy afternoon…
If you know anything about Jump The Gun, you’ll be certainly aware of our indiscriminate affair with the moment. A moment closer to peace, an indelible etching of a beautiful impression, free from obsession and the rigours of calamity.
Actually, you’re probably not aware of all that bollocks! But it goes without saying that when the dance floor is swaying, it’s a lot easier to catapult woes to wayside and live a life of luminous lights and sound clash nights.
So apparently we’re number one in Molesey! We brought the noise in October and it was met with equally supersonic, electrophonic applause from a right royal rabble of raunchy revellers!
Easily hitting the mid-nineties on a scale from one to perfection, it was a superb treat to perform for a crowd that was so up for a party. It didn’t take long to whip up a tornado of nostalgia, coaxing a storm of wurlitzers to dust off their dancing shoes and pump the dance floor full of adrenaline! So strong was the tsunami army we’d amassed, we couldn’t make our escape until after four encores! It’s unheard of I tell ye, and with no decibelic curfew to speak of, we were only too happy to ramp it up to 11!
Oi, come here ya toe rag…
You Skipp (a.k.a. Crockett) stand accused of soliciting unvirtuous invitations to frivolity, how do you plead…!?
Errrr……
A wander down East Molesey high street even now, four days after the event, would reveal to the wanderer the extent to which this bunch of miscreants have corrupted the populous of Molesey and it’s surrounding climes. They’re reeling…singing scotch bonnet sonnets in the street, dancing to the rhythm of the Brit-Pop beat and sunning their smiles in the echo of a rollocking good Friday night.
That, Your Honour, is exhibit B. We can’t just let these ‘people’ into our town and incite our residents to riot! I implore you to deliver them a suitable punishment, I suggest a months community service, performing the musical Cats on the streets of Croydon, in full pussy regalia!
[Tubbs and Valerie take to the stand]
You fuddy-duddy, bathwater-pissing old stick in the mud! Counting the candles on a cake you made yourself, you plank-spanking, pigs trotter of a beagle smuggler! You high court jester, in a flouncy wig and stockings, spending Sunday afternoon thru Thursday morn, covered in scorn and the crumbs of a thousand porkie pies, half-baked, shitting in someone else’s tube sock just for the halibut! You’re twisting my Gulliver, citizen!
SILENCE! I sentence you to three years of performing the hits of Abba on an Isle of Man cruise ship, writing elevator music in your spare time!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Luckily for us, and as hard as it may be to believe, none of that actually happened!
That was a gig that’ll keep us warm through the winter, it’ll be the tweezers to our splinter…what made it so special? If the world is a conversation, then no one stays sane speaking to themselves. When we perform for a appreciative crowd, we can sing twice as loud, give our all and then some! There is no yesterday, there is no tomorrow, there is only the ‘now’ at a Jump The Gun show.
And with any luck, that deliciously rich impression will help smatter your scrapbook of memories with a few more cataclysmic snapshots! See you down the front sometime soon, we’ll be the ones havin’ it large!!
Where next!? We’re off to Creepy Crawley for a Halloween weekend, Snooty Fox here we come!
– JTG