Wolverton? Where's Wolverton? Don't they mean Wolverhampton?
National Rail Enquiries confirmed that Wolverton featured on the rail line between Euston and Northampton, meaning we would need to go through Hell to get there. We consoled ourselves with the fact that the stop in Milton Keynes would be brief, and decided to go anyway.
Zak's Bar was hidden in a side street, but we eventually made it in. This was going to be an expensive night - the train tickets from London and the gig tickets had already been joined by curry and Cobra. I deducted a long overdue copy of Four Lads Who Shook The Wirral (and T-shirt to match) from my rapidly disappearing quantities of cash. Hell, it was payday.
And lo, the gig began. And Nigel saw that it was good. We sang along raucously to all the bits we knew, and danced badly to the bits we didn't recognise or couldn't figure out. It started with Fuckin' 'ell it's Fred Titmus and went on through Four Skinny Indie Kids, You're Hard and Feedback. Much fun was had by all, and we had lashings of dodgy lager.
Sadly our last train back was looming. We lasted through the joys of Feedback, we danced through Secret Gig and yelled our way through Time Flies By. We didn't make it to the encore, sadly.
We made our way back to Euston station feeling very glad we'd managed to brave Wolverton. The gig was as great as expected - they master classy melodies and that great guitar band sound better than Oasis ever will. And Oasis write crappy lyrics.
Just one thing guys - play Sealclubbing for me next time...