The idea of an afternoon of political speeches and rock and roll may not be the sort of entertainment that many people would seek out.
If given the choice of a soapy enema in public, or a ticket to a political rally, then most people would be bending over sans underwear in the high street and telling you to get on with it.
No me though.
Apart from the rock and roll on offer I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, I would find something there that would reignite my passion for political activism that has lain dormant for a couple of decades.
I was fooling myself though.
In the twenty years since I hung up my activists hat, and instead chose to rant from the comfort of my armchair, all that has changed is the faces.
The rhetoric is the same, and the veneer of giving a toss is just as thin as it ever was.
During the introductory speech, and prior to the first real speaker taking the microphone, I was hurled headlong into the past, and the reasons for turning my back on front-line activism all came rushing back.
Those who lean to the left couldn't organize a fuckin' raffle and by and large they're a bunch of cunts.
I didn't mean to call them that.
Useless self serving cunts is more accurate.
They're normally far too busy participating in a narcissistic orgy of communal ego masturbation to get much done at all.
If back slapping was an international sport then we would have some real world beaters lining up to pick up the gold.
While the majority of the people in attendance have got a hair up their arse about the governments attack on the public sectors pensions I doubt they would cross the road to piss on a gay asylum seeker who has just been set alight by a racist twat.
It seem to me rather obvious that similar to the authors who come out of the woodwork to bemoan the closure of libraries, and the actors who step up on the soapbox to protest about theatre funding being cut, the public sector workers have a narrow view of what is worth fighting for and the smell of personal interests is all pervasive.
The proof of their lack of a communal spirit moving them is shown when they all, with a few exceptions, piss off as 13 Tombs take to the stage to entertain them.
While the band are making their introduction, and before they have even struck a note, the venue clears.
Fair enough if they had waited to hear the band in full flow and decided it wasn't their thing, but to exit stage left before giving them a listen smacks of a liberal dose of arrogance and ignorance.
When someone, anyone, is invited along to entertain people for free, then at the very least a polite lending of an ear to them would be considered the right thing to do.
Anything else is akin to a slap in the face.
Not that this slap in the face floored the band, because like real stormtroopers they just fired into a set that in an alternative venue, with another crowd in attendance, they would have reaped an ecstatic response.
Deathrock, punk rock, goth punk, call it what you will, it's all rock and roll to me.
As a duo they have the power of a full band. The guitars work is as fiery as I like it and the vocals roll along like a train about to jump the tracks.
If this is the sound of the garage then it's one that's attached to the home of The Munsters.
That these guys are mainly confined to doing gigs on the east coast is a great loss to us on the west coast.
I think we need them to come through every once in a while and shake things up a bit.
In fact I will be whispering in peoples ears to see if I can make this happen.
That at one point there was only three people watching them.
A random guy that wanted to pay to see them and my girlfriend and me.
Yet that has no bearing on just how good this band is.
I'm personally looking forward to seeing them again, but hopefully that will be with people of like minded tastes that will have a more respectful attitude to those who would entertain us, rather than the those right on fanny's who were conspicuous by their absence.
Solidarnosc my arse.