Carry me back, baby, where I come from.

Well yes, as Messers Page & Plant might say, 'It's been a long time' (See what I did there?)

But what's been a long time?

It's been a long time (been a long time, been a long, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time) since we've had a 'State of the Dandy Nation' speech.

So, what's happened in the last... Erm... four months maybe?

I'll start with the top ten posts ever. There are a few changes, certainly, but the most noticable thing is that there's a joint number one - Two posts have had exactly the same number of views as each other - Which is so unlikely that it's prompted me to have a go on the lottery this weekend.  (I'm not going to be giving it the whole Smashie & Nicey 'And straight in at number 10' business because I haven't been keeping track of the movement - Yes, this is bad, and I feel bad.)

-oOo-

10 - Our least best post, if that makes sense, is: And then I killed Bobby Davro - The story of a trip I took to one of our great country's theme parks.  Where there was screaming, rending, and the enforced fighting (probably to the death) between two innocent wild animals.

9 - A NSFW Tweet about a time in my life when I used to see live bands on a regular basis, this particular live band were pretty much all naked, and performed repeated coitus with a member of the crowd - \m/ Rockbitch are so NSFW that it's not even funny \m/

8 - Now, this one's deeply personal to me, which I why I shared it with a thousand people who I don't know on The Internet.  It's the story of my Father's death from Cancer.  It doesn't contain many belly laughs, but I've received a few messages to say it's helped people in similar situations, which is nice - Today, my Dad died

7 - You leave me bent and broken by the roadside - The story of the final days of the MK I Dandymobile. And it's repeated, abortive, trips to the car spares shop.

6 - This post is my finest moment, it is because of this that I realised that I'd become one of the true Twitterati, a God amongst men, a harvestman scything my way through a field, reeling in the sheaves of my devoted followers (Oh, and it also got re-tweeted by Rufus Hound and favourited by Al Murray, so I win the Internet, Ner!) - Pogonophilia is for everyone, even the young

5 - Oh blimey, more Death... I guess I'm just of that age where people I know are shuffling off this mortal coil with increasing regularity. - Sabian, the Token Yank - Describes my relationship with one of the nicest colonials anyone could ever possibly hope to meet, except you can't... Because, you know, he's no longer with us.  Holds the record for the most comments from people I don't strictly know, including his family.

4 - Learn to govern yourself, be gentle and patient - Is a 'Steampunked' description, of the workings of the very real Brookwood Cemetery, and British Funerary custom in the 19th Century (The title is a lyric from the glorious The Men That Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing's song 'Etiquette' - Which you should all rush off and listen to immediately.)

3 - I still don't get this one, - No, it is not a 'Slow News Day' - This particular post is very similar to this particular post... No, hang on, I mean that it's just the same as the post you're reading now.  It's a 'State of the Dandy Nation post' from September 2013.  You guys are seriously weird.

=1- The first of out two top posts, with more than a hundred more views than any other (Except the one below, obvs) is - You get me closer to God - Which is a no-holds-barred, blow-by-blow account of the events leading up to, and including, then entry of my Son, The MicroDandy, into the Kingdom of God via the medium of Baptism - If you're hugely fundamentalist, you might not want to read this, it does poke a little bit of fun at Mother Church, and the people who only go there once a year.

=1- The second of our first place entries is about Facebook, especially the people who blindly share sob-stories without checking their facts.  You know, those people who send you things with pictures of fly-covered children who will get a life-saving operation if the post gets 100,000 likes - There's one born every minute - Got a comment on this one from an irate, but anonymous American, which is worth a read on its own - He was very angry, I think he needs to eat less protein.

So, if you want a quick introduction to the sort of piffle I write, you could do worse than taking a look at those (Bear in mind that those are the best as voted for by you, the public, and you're notoriously fickle.)

-oOo-

We now come to the ever-popular 'What have people Googled to find the blog?' section... Depressingly, not as much as usual - I'm putting this down to more of my adoring fans bookmarking me, but popular search terms in the last quarter have included:

Dzit Dit Gaii - Which managed to find my post about Denver International Airport

Tiswas David McKellar - This pointed the seacher towards my review of the 40th anniversary party for TISWAS in Birmingham which I was honoured enough to attend.

-oOo-

As far as hits on the blog goes, in the previous quarter, we had 6,066, bringing our total up to 40,331 at the last count.

Which, as I'm not pretty, don't get my boobs out, don't advertise, don't provide a cogent service of any kind and am just really a fat, bald, bloke who's only just on the right side of 50, isn't that bad.

Nope, not bad at all.

\m/ Rockbitch are so NSFW that it's not even funny. \m/

No, seriously guys, I mean... You've read various posts about the pale underbelly of my life... You've read details of events that may even have nipped at the edges of illegality... Actually, you may well have seen the odd post that tore great chunks out illegality and spat it out whilst laughing maniacally and poking at a koala bear with a greased herring.

You've even read about the time I was trapped in a darkened room with a load of wild transvestites, and had my photograph taken for a German Fetish Magazine.

But this one...

It may not be for everyone... You should probably be at least 18 to read this.

And if you've ever been offended by anything, ever, don't read this either.

Don't get me wrong, everything that happened was between consenting adults and whilst money had changed hands... Well... It was still technically just a Gig.

-oOo-

It was just prior to the dawn of the New Millennium, and I was working for a global producer of aeroplane engines during the day, and drinking copious amounts of alcohol at night.

The pub I spent a lot of my time in was The Victoria Inn, opposite the main railway station in Derby which was at the time, and still is, one of the country's leading alternative live music venues.

This particular day, I was having a conversation with the landlord about the bands that he was putting on and the see-saw, swings and roundabouts situation that you get where 'Cover' or 'Tribute' bands are always very popular, but up and coming original bands are a bit more 'honest' but don't drag as many people across the threshold, if you know what I mean.  there was a bit of to-ing and fro-ing and it all got a bit philosophical until I mentioned a band that I'd only recently heard of, that I thought might well bring in the punters.

They were a bunch of melodious young ladies who sailed under the sobriquet of 'RockBitch'

Do feel free to Google them, but maybe not from a PC at your place of work.

For those of a shy (or quite sensible) disposition, I will give you a quick rundown of the, now sadly defunct, band.

They were a group of young ladies, who I believe at the time all lived together in a polyamorous, pagan, feminist community based in a chateaux, somewhere in France. They all knew each other very, very well. And were not hugely shy about showing their friendliness towards each other on or off stage.  In fact, they weren't shy about showing their friendliness towards themselves either.  In their spare time, they played pagan, feminist, empowering rock music... Which, if I'm honest relied more on the fact that they didn't wear very much than on any huge technical ability, don't get me wrong, they all knew how to play their respective instruments but, well, you know, boobs 'n' stuff.

Fast forwarding a month or so, the band was booked and it was discovered that 'The Vic' wasn't big enough to deal with the number of perverts that had said that they were interested in buying tickets, so a deal was struck with a local Rock club, 'The Rockhouse' to host the gig.

Then someone 'leaked' to the local paper that an all-girl hardcore sex-show was coming to the peaceful little hamlet of Derby-on-Derwent, which generated a potload of free publicity and increased the number of interested parties no end - Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the gig to get cancelled, and everyone was very surprised when it wasn't.

I had the bright idea of getting some of my workmates to attend, as I'd been trying to get them to come out for a beer for a while, most of them were contractors who only lived locally during the week and went home to their loved ones at the weekend, and would otherwise just have been say in their digs, staring at the 1950s wallpaper and drinking 'Happy Shopper' lager.  To a man, they all said 'Yes'. (Please note, one of my workmates was almost seven feet tall, remember this, it pops up later)

The Gig Itself...

Now, I've seen the 'band' at the same venue twice now, once with Mrs Dandy and once without, and I can't for the life of me remember which time this was, I'm sure she'll remind me later, not that it matters hugely I suppose.

It all started off fairly normally, I suppose the band were gauging their audience and the stage was about 40 deep with 99.5% men,crammed together so tightly that you couldn't get a cigarette-paper between them. 

I remember looking at the back of this one chaps head and thinking, "why has that guy got a swimming cap on?' It was only when he turned that I saw the anatomically improbable phallus protruding from the front of it which the lead guitarist 'perched herself upon' repeatedly at various points during the evening.  

There were a couple of moments where the band members 'Openly celebrated each others femininity' via the medium of digital manipulation (No, I don't mean Photoshop) Which, if I remember correctly, raised more applause than any of the songs.

Then about halfway through the show, everything kind of stopped... The vocalist (who was excitingly named 'The Beast') called for quiet and produced from somewhere (She didn't have any pockets that I could make out) a condom, in a golden wrapper, which she held high in the air.  there was a short speech about female empowerment, women's rights to enjoy themselves however they saw fit and all sorts of other things that no-one was particularly listening to.

She then cast the item like a prophylactic Frisbee into the crowd.

Remember my altitudinally blessed colleague?  Well, he reached out one of his baboon like arms and plucked it, unthinkingly, from the air. (I kept my hands firmly by my sides through the entire sordid ordeal, obviously)

He grinned gormlessly at me and shouted into my ear, 'What did I win?' - I pointed at the band, who were all alternating between frantically gesturing him forward and doing that over-the-head handclap and shouting 'Woo' thing.

What he'd won, as some of you may already know (especially those of you who ignored my advice and Googled the band) was to spend the time that it took the band to play the next song, with an extended guitar solo, in the dressing room, in flagrante delicto, with a member of the band.  He toddled towards the stage, and was led away by a pretty young lady who looked him up and down as if trying to work out whether he was totally in proportion or not.

It seems that he probably was, as she came out as the song was drawing to a close, naked but for her boots, and asked them to play it over again.

-oOo-

These are the wonderful ladies from around the time in question, sorry it's not a great photograph, but it's quite difficult to find a decent picture where they're actually wearing clothes.

What? you were expecting them to be ugly?