Seeing as how it's 'my memories of Miss Beth' day in blog-land {see Ridder, quite possibly the world's best Silly Blog}, I shall take this opportunity to, weddings and funerals style, to pay tribute to our glorious front-lass...

Aherm...

For the past twelve months or so {with a brain like mine, frankly, it could be twelve weeks, or even twelve days...} it has been my pleasure {the vomit-inducing kind...} to have Beth as a 'musical partner in crime'. Or grime.

As a result of our carefully researched experiments in combining shouting, drum machines, Pop and Crisps, Cake, booze, crying and other stuff, I have done more puking in the past few months than I have since my cider swigging early teens. I could blame her brownies, but that wouldn't be true. I have also made a lot of fun music, and had a load of fun making that music.




Punk Rock Chick of Doom by night, favourite cake-making aunt by day.

A fucking brilliant voice, excellent taste in music - and footwear, brilliant company, likes Black Books, lives for Kate Bush and Curve. What more could you ask for in a band-mate?

Patrick 'The Saint' Crean, he of the bass guitar and shavey head, has actually been drafted in as a sort of sick-buffer as much as for his bass playing abilities. I thought that if we had a 'sensible' third member we in turn would perhaps behave in a more sensible, sober manner. And plus the fact that 'threesome' sounds funnier than 'duo'. Ha ha... {S.W.I.D.T. ?}

So thanks to Beth for the sick. And the larks. And here's to a future hopefully filled with cake, shouting through guitar effects, piss-poor corner-shop quality wine, and sick. Bring it on.

Happy birthday Beth. You really do Rock xxx.