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On Saturday April 15th we gathered in Kastrup
Airport. Our destination was London! A very big thing had happened....
The Man Himself - The King - The Godfather of Us All - Mr. Jon Fucking
Spencer and Mrs. Christina Martinez had asked us to play with Boss Hog
on the North European leg of their tour. Without hesitation we accepted
the offer, scraped together a bit of the ol' cash, said bye to family
and friends and found ourselves there at the airport of Copenhagen.
Right from the start, this week of our lives turned out
to be very interesting, a week where we learned a lot about ourselves
and - even more so - a lot about eachother!
When the plane took off from Copenhagen, 5 happy people leaned back and
enjoyed themselves. The only problem being that we had booked 6 tickets
for this flight, and this is where Per Sunding enters the equation -
and he will do so many times in this story. Per Sunding aka "The Swede"
did not make the plane!!!! Curiously, nobody had the slightest idea
where he was.
An hour and a half later we found ourselves in Heathrow -
one bassist short - in dire need of a fucking Pint! Per arrived on the
next plane and we spent the rest of the evening under the influence of
alcohol! At this point I have to point out, that none of us has ever
been the object of such a quick flow of nick names as did Per aka
"Verschwunding" aka "Liget i Øresund" aka "Øresunding" aka "The
Psychopath"....
On monday the 17th we were on stage in London - the first
gig on the tour. London Astoria 2 was packed with eager Englishmen and
ladies, and they got their Pounds worth. A Team of Tremolo in very good
form entered the stage in such a fucking wild manner that even the most
boring Limey bastard had to succumb to our charm and enthusiasm! In
other words.... We kicked the ass of the Brits! Boss Hog did a nice
show too, but anyone that had just witnessed a killer Tremolophonic
outburst knows that.... need I say more?
As we sat on the plane to Amsterdam the next morning, we again had to realize the astounding genius of Per
Sunding.
During the night he had lost his suitcase and all his treasured
belongings in a taxi cab in London! As we flew over the English Channel
we were in a hung over state of euphoria, and we had to take to the
small bottles of Wine (Swine) the Brittish Airways so generously
distribute to perverts like us. After all this is the patented Sune
Wagner cure for heavy hang overs!
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