deathboy | Imagine...

Imagine a room full of nu-media types, slapping their own backs and wanking their-selves off to a hugely pedestrian non-Dj who's playing a break-CD despite the decks in front of him.

Imagine 50% of the people in the room suddenly turning out to be goths.

Imagine all the free drinks suddenly being drunk.

Imagine a crowd of goths moving from their restive state to their excited state.

Imagine a wankly organised, onanistic awards ceremony attended by only the people accused of the awards of the night suddenly filling up with Wasp Factory.

The booze got drunk.

Mel started angle-grinding.

The camera-kids went wild.

The goths were out in force.

An utterly self-masturbatory self-back-slapping awards ceremony for the select few just got jumped by the Wasp Factory Crew.

The Nathan Barleys of the world just suffered an Extreme Industrial Invasion.

To the sound of Tarantella Serpentine, Mark Eris and my filthy self screaming "GO HOME. GO HOME TO YOUR EMPTY NU-MEDIA APARTMENTS, YOU FUCKERS!" and the blitzkrieg of hard industrial beats, the Hackney Ocean just took a very unexpected Chaos-Blast *right up the wrong 'un*.

Tonight I felt faintly anarchic.

I feel the need to do more.