I’m sorry Mary


I had 60 quid to last 10 days and spent 30 of it seeing The Delta Riggs play in a small room above a bar at Camden Town. Why? Because I love booze, women and rock’n’roll and damn everything else.

Rock’n’roll is old. The Delta Riggs don’t care, they believe in rock and fuck those who don’t. I don’t care either, I just want it delivered with soul. The band isn’t from here, but the room is crowded and while some think it strange I know all the words, the tall blonde girl shaking next to me doesn’t.

Elliott hangs off the microphone, long limbs draped over his face, and growls out the songs. The opener, Mary, is about trouble with a woman, just like most good rock songs. ‘Elizabeth, I think your sister’s gunna leave me’ says Elliott, after previously telling Mary ‘don’t you come around here woman’.

The tall blonde wanted to meet the band after the gig and I told her to follow me. She didn’t need me to lead the way and she took her friend up the stairs ahead of Elliott and I followed.

There was someone smoking in the room and I asked if I could join in. The blonde girl was sitting on the couch with some of the hangers on. I hadn’t lost the girl to the band, I lost her to the hangers on. I sat on an amplifier drawing on a smoke and the bass player walked in. ‘Nice shirt’, he told me, before taking the attention of the girl I had been talking to.

‘I’m not cut out for this rock’n’roll lifestyle’ I thought, as I stumbled out of the room and back downstairs to the public bar. There was cheesy, singalong modern rock songs pumping, the kind of stuff I love when I am drunk. The tall blonde walked through the crowd as Mr Brightside blared from the speakers, I caught her eye and she hugged me. She only went upstairs because her friend was a wannabe groupie.


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