Day 5: my bones ache almost as much as my head now. I've got the onset of a cold looming over me, or is it hypothermia? Parkinsons? AIDS? It wouldn't surpirse me, there's only so long you can drink with Klaxons before you wind up catching the big one. But there are anti-viral drugs you can take these days, and with a good diet... "its not the death sentence it once was" - Or so a heavily tatooed photographer told me the other night in Sheffield.

Which reminds me: Sheffield. It was fun. Joe and Simon Klaxon dragging a projector screen from its moorings down on the heads of anyone stupid enough to be in the way, Simon running with it to the door before being clobbered by five bouncers who took it upon themselves to dish out some mean justice and split his eyebrow open, squash his nose against a pillar and kick his ribs until they hurt. KILL ALL BOUNCERS. As Primal Scream should have said, if they had any sense, which they don't. Then trying to find our soundman, who had climbed onto an airconditioning unit, 20ft from the ground, bringing a dole chair with him, and sitting - just sitting, watching the night pass by, before having to argue with yet more bouncers who wanted him to get down. So he did what any reasonable citizen would do, climbing into the airconditioning system and crawing around the club, attempting some kind or warped James Bond escape routine. But getting caught short on the way round and having to piss on all fours in the very same air conditioning tubes. Good times & wet knees.

Its good to have a soundman whos on our level, rather than one we have to attack with instruments. Saying that, he's already been sacked 14 times so far. He reckons he's going for the big 100 before the end of the tour. I think its entirely possible. Maybe he enjoys it too much. The only way he'll learn is if we dock the cunts wages. Then perhaps he'll be less inclined to blast 2 grams of gak up his beak in a single afternoon & concentrate on getting the levels right.