After rehearsing, all four of Fosca get a black cab together. In London, one is constantly told of horror stories involving minicab drivers, and that proper black cabs are far safer. I'm not convinced that means the drivers are guaranteed to be any saner. It just means that there's a panel of glass separating you from them.
On this occasion, seeing that we're a band, our driver regales us with tales of seeing the Jam live in their heyday. This would be fair enough, but he then adds:
"I saw that Paul Weller recently on Oxford Street. I asked him for an autograph, but he wouldn't give me one.
"SO I BEAT HIM UP AND KNOCKED HIM TO THE GROUND."
It turns out he's also a Madness fan. I'm reminded that I myself am off to see Madness in concert just before Christmas. I'm a big fan of their songs (I even went to see their 'Our House' musical the other month), but I'm a bit scared of some of their fans. I shall keep the make-up to a minimum and try my best to not look like a Morrissey fan.
