Well, what a weekend.
Little did we know that we would be headling the 'Haciendazed' night at La Fleche D'Or in Paris - in fact, I was terrified about the whole affair anyway, so when I found out we were headlining, I was in a mess! The club - which was a wonderful, kooky, odds-and-ends sort of place - was rammed, the set up delightfully professional, complete with a theatrical curtain which opened during the first few bars of A Call To Arms much to our delight. And everyone bopped away! We had a massive English contingent supporting us, consisting of Mancunian comrades and my Brummie family, but it was actually the Parisiens who started the mosh pit - the English just joined in!
I was more of a mess after the gig actually. Bearing in mind I was pissed and overcome, we then had people coming up to us, chanting our name; the boys were being molested, autographs were signed. It was mad.