We’ve just been chilling in Las Palmas……or trying to. The fact is Las Palmas sucks. There’s something about Las Palmas that makes it feel ‘tainted’, as Tim described it. It lacks character, though it certainly has atmosphere. Hanging out with the Chuckle Brothers we’ve been forced to drink muchos beer and checking out the super-fine ladies (remember Spanish rules apply with regards to the ass over here) and generally making a nuisance of ourselves, something that Dave and Johnny have executed superbly since buying themselves a couple of scooters.
Womad has been on this weekend (that’s the World of Music and Dance festival), which meant more drinking and merriment. Unfortunately these kind of affairs attract the soap-dodging hippy freaks who think they can earn a few bob by randomly swinging bits of string around their heads, accidentally twatting tourists across the face with them. Or juggling bits of twigs on fire and dropping them in front of a disapproving crowd. Reckon they’d be better off juggling some shower gel and jugs of water: at least if they dropped them they might get a bit of a wash out of it. The highlight, however, had to be the end of the festival when the locals came out with their drums and grouped together in the centre of a big crowd, banging out impromptu drum patterns, thus allowing any drunk or raver to go wild to the riddim, man. I managed to get quite a bit of video footage of it, it really is quite intense. Good stuff.
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