Hey! How’s life on the cliff edge? Too edgy for the edgiest edgelord,the edgiest, so edgy! Even the millions who assembled in important London for the biggest middle-class flex ever can’t stop the edginess - even Uri can’t stop it with his bendy spoons - even Boris can’t stop it with his edgy spaffing - even Nigel the toadman in his giant Barbour coat and his 200 marching elderlies can’t stop it - but don’t lose your muffins, get along to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be defying current trends and laying down some vibes of ordered sanity thanks to the indefatigable talents of man like Luke ‘2Pac’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Real Don Dadda’ Thomas (drms) as they deliver on the real Will Of The People by laying out some hot licks and cool grooves, aided by me on bass, plus the unflappable ascended beings of the Bee’s team emanating calmness, peace vibrations and spiritual unity from behind the well-stocked bar… as history skips the tragedy bit and goes straight for the farce, as all around are losing their heads and blaming it on the illuminati, as Mr Corbyn does the hokey-cokey all alone in his corner, as the Maybot rues that billion quid bung to the world’s costliest proddies, as the Trumpkin prepares a gigantic sickening wazoo for all, as the sap stirs in the bough and the bud breaks upon the branch, as a roseate glow suffuses the western sky over the glassy sea, time to drive dull care away and get your bad self down to where the good stuff is, don’t delay
What’s up holmes? All wore out from submitting the same attempt at ur sick chirpse for the third time? Hoping to prorogue but no-one’s playing? Attempt at meaningful vote only seems to point up the emptiness of your meaningless existence? Wanted to draw Wolves but Life handed you Man City? Don’t stumble glumly through the chilly drizzle like some Farage-led cavalcade of soggy truculence, gird your loins and stride boldly forth to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and let those masters of the magic music portal, whose material emanations vibrating on on this octave are known as Luke ‘Visions Of The Emerald Beyond’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Between Nothingness And Eternity” Thomas (drms), transport you to a fantastical realm of good grooves hot licks & the real swing thing, aided in some fashion by me on bass, while the peerless denizens of the scented darkness behind the well-stocked bar wait, eager to pour you a healing libation, plus whatever special guests may drop in from the chartered streets outside, sunflowers weary of time, sick roses, tygers burning bright or whoever else really, anyone who can join in with the ideals of peace, unity, communication, creativity and not killing people to satisfy your pain or your bullshit or your greedy little newsfeed…. so don't stay in hoping that 'After Life' will cheer you up cos it won't, come and join us, the world will keep turning, we’ll do a thing.
Where’s your moral compass? How can you have an opinion when ‘Finding Neverland’ turns out to be too long to actually watch all the way through, when R Kelly’s automotive expertise no longer stands up to analysis, when International Women’s day doesn’t even spark a decent ‘not all men’ pile-on on your feed cos everyone’s too demoralised to moralise… OPT OUT of all the bullshit and OPT IN to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be throwing care to the bitter winds and stoking the inner mounting flames with high-octane musical juice courtesy of Luke “The Last Dragon” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Last Jedi” Thomas (drms) plus me aiding and assisting to the best of my ability on bass, while the interdimensional agents of the Bee’s Team wait, poised in the fragrant shadows behind the well-stocked bar, the bad boys hand out their tasty burgers, Cruella de Ville lays out some more bullsh*t around the neighbourhood bars, the nameless creatures of the night pass by upon their fathomless errands, and out across the land the citizens mug each other off or stockpile listlessly as the promises of Mr Corbyn’s jammy allotment and Ms May’s field of blighted wheat seem to shift and shimmer in a haze of spectral unreality, the cold winds blow across the close cropped turf far out beyond the edge of town, in the dank spaces under the blackened hedgerow the sap begins to stir and feather footed through the plashy fen passes the questing vole… don’t let it bug you out, come and join us, we’ll have a time.
Here you are, making tracks through this vale of tears, beset upon all sides by the unrighteous, rendered by busy little crawlers scraping your most intimate datasets on behalf of their boringly rapacious masters, trying to spark joy off your soggy surroundings… screw that negativity, get yerself to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ll be on it like Phil Silvers thanks to the majestic incantations of man like Luke “Ten Toes” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Real Don Dadda” Thomas (drms) as they lay out pure musical intoxication into our lil’ jazzy hotbox here, while the all-knowing, all seeing Bee’s team wait, under the command of dandy highwayman Jack Rowan, to administer libations of top grade hooch to ease you gently through to the end of the night, as the denizens of the darkness get into their stride and the winds of change blow in from across the darkling ocean as the waves tear at the ragged shingle, with only 25 days til the giant Momo challenge of Brexmas comes spreading it’s shitty wings across the grubby over-tagged streets of your town… we’ll be here doing our thing here in the warm twilight building musical castles to keep out the bad vibes til they call time on it all, so get along, get along, Twisted Firestarters especially welcome.