I have seen some of these worst gig’s submitted and I feel its time share one of PLAN B's Extraordinary nights:

It was a shady old pub in the Kingswood area called the King William, my brother who was the managing us at the time got us the gig so we were suitably concerned as we had just finished a tour set up by him of Bedminster (classic). The night began.

We arrived like most bands with more kit then anyone could possibly need, but you know, we want to put on a good show so they get their money’s worth all £150!!

The set up

 What I can only describe as the embassy world pool championship taking place. 20 blokes crowded around the pool table and I had the job to tell them it was over for the night. They are not happy as nine £1 coins lined up, get quickly taken back. As many bands will testify, moving a pool table in a busy small pub is not easy but it does give you plenty of room to put amp’s and stuff on.

Anyway time is passing very quickly at this point and we are heading towards start time.

Sound check. This being the point where most punters decide to stay or go. You know you're not ready; Levels are on shot and you haven’t had a drink to steady the ship as it were. As the lead singer I am in charge of the PA. I am aware that it has been a work horse for me and was showing signs static build up. So when I turn it on I have to speak rather loudly and low for this build up to fade, so I’m stood with nothing to say, mumbling with everyone in the place looking at me with concern.

At this point a large amount of under aged drinkers enter, pissed up. Can’t be a lot going on in Kingswood on a Saturday night. Anyway the night goes reasonable well, surprisingly the youths were tucked in the corner of the pub around a big table just getting wasted. Fair enough, now and again one would get over excited and approach us cheering and singing along, nice.

Last orders at the bar some how sparked life into this very controlled crowd and every one is up dancing. This is the great thing about playing a back street boozer, everybody pissed up including us, genuinely enjoying themselves. Well all good things have to come to an end, but this party was not ready to finish and as a young band we just kept playing, whipping this drunken audience into frenzy. The landlord signalled me to finish, but I pretended not to see him until he is standing right in front of me shouting "last one! Last one!"

So I do the classic encore manoeuvre ( The landlord is a old C**T wont let us do one more ) the pub erupts and I start to feel a little worried about what I have just announced. For what followed, I suppose I could take some blame.  

The table of youths fuelled on Stella start wrecking the joint. People, beers, chairs flying everywhere, we do what every good band does and play on to this scene, straight out of a western. It gets to a point where the whirlwind of people start to head towards us, or more importantly the kit. We decide that we have had enough and finish. The fighting has taken centre stage with the pub landlord living out has fantasy of kicking young’uns out of has pub.

The Police turn up, 4 riot vans 15 cops. It started to die down but this just turned out to be the eye of the storm when a gang from another pub joined in, both in and outside of the pub. We struggle but manage to get the big wooden doors shut. A little shaken up we start to realise that what is going on out side is a full scale riot (Wicked). Ten minutes pass..... still going..... 20 minutes pass..... starting to feel like the movie Shaun of the dead, locked in the pub with zombies trying to kill us. I look out of the window and one of the twats looks at me though the glass and punches it showering us in glass. I was nursing a cuts to my hand when finally the old bill took control of the situation.

All is calm and I have to go to the landlord for money. He’s got a beer towel wrapped around his head and I’m nursing a bloody hand. He looks at me and say’s and I quote “Quality Son, same again next month” without hesitation I replied “YEP”