The next moogieman gig will be at a more far-flung location than usual. The Campania pub sits high among windswept rocks. The cracked baroque facade is occasionally hit by spray from the crashing waves below. On clear days its haughty turrets are visible from the coast of France.
But inside there is an ocean of calm … until, that is, moogieman performs his song about the International Obfuscated C Code Contest – The Apostate Priest Of The PDP-11. The Campania errupts in outraged fury. The first performance of the Rite Of Spring was like a Daniel O’Donnell concert compared to this.
The promoter, pale and shaking, ushers us out of a side door – an act of selflessness for which he will later pay dearly. We barerly escape with our lives and flee to the relative safety of Fort Clonque, an ex Napoleonic and then Second World War German naval battery, now renovated as a holiday home.
The nightmare continues. A diary entry from several days later reads:
The main gun emplacement has proved to be an excellent redoubt. But 13 against two-and-a-half thousand are not odds that can be defied for long. Food is running out. Ammunition for the big guns is running out. In fact we started out with only a few decorative cannon balls welded to the floor and no powder to speak of. However, under the unwavering command of our musical director Matt W the men have been put to work manufacturing ordnance from fixtures and fittings while the ladies have been preparing black powder from charcoal and urine.
Find out what really happened next week …