Yesterday I woke up at 8.30. Maybe a couple of minutes before that even. I got out of bed, showered, cleaned my teeth, and actually did my hair, though it looked the same as it always does, which is quite messy. We were going down to Brighton to have a photo shoot for our band. I have lost eight pounds in the last month so I would look better for them. Rowan has also lost weight for the same reasons but on top of this, he has bought an entire new wardrobe and some make-up and spent a fortune on having a stylist do absolutely nothing to his hair. Rowan loves cameras and is invincible around them. Joe attached his girlfriend so she could follow him around advising him on what to wear, how to stand, how to arrange his face and to apply eye de-puffer and anti blemish cream when ever needed. Al wore sunglasses and Will stole a jacket from a dirty young pick pocket.
We started travelling down South at around eleven o’clock. It was a long hot drive and the M25 was brutal. When we got there, we were told there was a big gay march going on. We saw lots of man shaped women and one fruity looking chap hiking proudly by the motorway, though I doubt he’s the only gay from what I’ve heard about Brighton. If he actually is, then that is a weak march and the gays of Brighton need to take more pride in themselves. Meanwhile, I excelled myself at comedy with the following joke. I am so funny now, I pull these kind of originals out instinctively.
Joe – What do you call a man with a seagull on his head? Cliff!”
Me – What do you call a man with a car on his head?
Someone else- Jack?
Me – No, Al Fayed.
It was at first greeted with silence but once people realised how awesome I am, lots of laughter followed. From Joe and Rowan, anyway. This masked the tutting that was going on in the background. I was pleased with myself. I admit it was not in the best taste, but my genius will not be boxed in by trends and boundaries. Basically, I cannot be stopped.
We parked up and were told our entourage would be late, so we went for food in a delightful looking pink tea room. I had a cherry pie to be like Twin Peaks. It was damn fine cherry pie and I wanted to tell the waitress so, but I knew conversation between us would be difficult. I don’t know what “Helloy” means. It’s a whole different world down there. They have “super doughnut peaches”. Are they filled with jam? Can they be destroyed? I guess it’s one of those things that northern people will just have to keep on wandering.
Joe asked if he could charge his camera battery in there. The waitress asked her boss. We heard the booming reply come from the kitchen – “I have to pay for the electricity you know.” Joe looked bewildered, but he was allowed to plug his charger in after offering 30p. We all listened to the flying monkeys settling down out back and sat in silence, shocked that one person could be so stingy. The waitress was very apologetic and we ended up not paying because we don’t pander to the man. The room the toilet was in span upside-down when you were in it, but you never quite fell over.
We then went down to the beach front for the photos. It was actually professional. They had a massive inflatable air mat, generators, big lights and thousands of pounds worth of photography equipment. The photographer apparently does work for FHM, amongst other high profile organisations, because his thing is making people look beautiful. It must have been nice that mother nature had done the job for him today. There was a big crowd gathered and rather than tell people we weren’t actually famous, Rowan spoke in a Sheffield accent so people thought we were the Arctic Monkeys. I thought they were a little too high profile and people would recognise we weren’t them so I opted for walking around singing “what’s that coming over the hill, is it a monster?” People weren’t fooled and left quickly.
Because there are three brothers in the band and because we play lively shows, the motivation for the shoot was fighting and movement. So the majority of the pictures were of us bundling down some concrete stairs and pushing the front two into the crash mat. The mat will be out of shot in the actual photos. Al used this idea as an excuse to hurt everyone. We won’t see the finished article for a week or so, but here are some candid shots.
We also had to do some proper “moody” band pictures and this is when the darkness descended, as it inevitably does. Joe was not happy and made it clear. We all shrugged it off and brooded and smouldered, but Joe was gone for the day now and hated everything he could see or hear. This concept didn’t last long before we were told to leap around the rocks like idiots and throw stones at Rowan. The photographer had successfully sniffed out the essence of the band. Here is a previous photo of us from before we were famous. A game for you – look at it then try and guess what Will spent today’s photo shoot doing (Will is top left).
Answer: Holding his shirt down.
We were there until around 8’oclock and we tried various different wardrobes and locations, because that’s the way we do it in the industry. After we finished and said goodbye to everyone, we went for fish and chips. Al was a hungry and desperate man and nearly killed Will when he pretended he was tired and wanted to go straight home without eating. Because we couldn’t stand his intense whinging, we let on that we had arranged to meet the others at a place a couple of miles away. He would not have this and tried to make us stop at every food establishment he could see. He was glad he held out in the end though, because the one we went to served alcohol and that’s the only thing he likes more than food. I had a battered sausage and chips and it was swift and ultimate justice after the last couple of weeks of eating fruit and running a lot. We got back to Nottingham at about 3am. We weren’t famous again.