Return of THE FEAR!

[Slaughterday]

Halloween night, 2015. Had spent about 6 hours drinking in various watering holes across Dublin before trotting over the Voodoo Lounge to catch Dead Congregation. Some fucking mongo kept putting his arm around me to headbang and I remember not wanting to kick his head in, in case it caused a scene and DC stopped playing their set. Surprisingly though I didnt cripple myself on that huge kerb in the middle of the venue.

Left after the gig and was dragged to some wanker pub somewhere near St Stephens green. Naturally, got caught rotten pissing on a nearby street by some horrified onlookers. Place was jammed so we had to order a few pints at a time, which was of course a great decision.

Ended up in The Black Door then which just led to utter liver destruction. I'm sure I was only let me in because it was Halloween and I'd say they thought I had dressed as a heavy metal wino. Place was full of posh birds dressed like 1920s flapper girls and I'm sure the sight of me falling on my arse and onto tables full of glasses still haunts them. I think the leather jacket saved my radial arteries from getting bits of pint glass shoved in them.

After the nightclub I had the great idea to get the 5.30am train back to the midlands. As you do sure. Walked back to the hostel where the guy on reception asked me at least 10 times if I wanted to check out, clearly concerned for my safety. The walk back to heuston took about an hour, and I nearly fell under a street sweeper lorry.

Ended up in heuston and found out that on a Sunday, the first train that suited me wasn't leaving until 9am. Tried to sleep on a bench but almost froze to death so off to the jacks I went. Tried to get some kip while junkies in the other cubicles had their breakfast fixes. How I got home eventually is beyond me, I do remember having a four seater to myself on the train though.

I haven't drank that much since and I probably never will to be honest. Definitely changed my outlook on boozing that day (slightly). Checked my account balance a few days later and nearly had a stroke.

[Paul keohane]

Halloween night, 2015. Had spent about 6 hours drinking in various watering holes across Dublin before trotting over the Voodoo Lounge to catch Dead Congregation. Some fucking mongo kept putting his arm around me to headbang and I remember not wanting to kick his head in, in case it caused a scene and DC stopped playing their set. Surprisingly though I didnt cripple myself on that huge kerb in the middle of the venue.

Left after the gig and was dragged to some wanker pub somewhere near St Stephens green. Naturally, got caught rotten pissing on a nearby street by some horrified onlookers. Place was jammed so we had to order a few pints at a time, which was of course a great decision.

Ended up in The Black Door then which just led to utter liver destruction. I'm sure I was only let me in because it was Halloween and I'd say they thought I had dressed as a heavy metal wino. Place was full of posh birds dressed like 1920s flapper girls and I'm sure the sight of me falling on my arse and onto tables full of glasses still haunts them. I think the leather jacket saved my radial arteries from getting bits of pint glass shoved in them.

After the nightclub I had the great idea to get the 5.30am train back to the midlands. As you do sure. Walked back to the hostel where the guy on reception asked me at least 10 times if I wanted to check out, clearly concerned for my safety. The walk back to heuston took about an hour, and I nearly fell under a street sweeper lorry.

Ended up in heuston and found out that on a Sunday, the first train that suited me wasn't leaving until 9am. Tried to sleep on a bench but almost froze to death so off to the jacks I went. Tried to get some kip while junkies in the other cubicles had their breakfast fixes. How I got home eventually is beyond me, I do remember having a four seater to myself on the train though.

I haven't drank that much since and I probably never will to be honest. Definitely changed my outlook on boozing that day (slightly). Checked my account balance a few days later and nearly had a stroke.

[Caomhaoin]

I told this one on the other of forum, but it's worth a retell.

I was in Sheffield at Easter 2012, visiting a pal from home who was living there at the time. It was mid afternoon, and we were eating pizza and drinking cans watching Wrestlemania, recorded from the night before.

My girlfriend at the time called me, which I remembered being irritated by as a) I told her I was going to be catching up with my friend and b) she broke the WM momentum. Turned out it was to tell me she was pregnant, which I hadn't been expecting to hear. I then had to make the call to the mother, before sheepishly going back into yer man's living room. He asked me if I was alright, as I looked shaken and pale. Told him the script, and he immediately suggesting flinging in our jackets and going for a few pints, forget all about it.

At least 15 pints later, ended up in a gay disco (the only place that would let us in). I was slobbering all over the place, and as we were in Sheffield, I asked the barman if he knew where Sean Bean lived/if he was around (not sure which) to which he said 'Sean Bean is banned from all the pubs in Sheffield and was a 'homophobic bastard''.

I took the massive hump over this (I was a huge fan of the series Sharpe) and started hurling all kinds of horrible abuse at him, most of it homophobic (I'm getting a beamer typing this). The bouncers made an example out of  me, and I was flung out the door, and by the time I gathered myself into a position to shuffle off, I had no runners or jacket.

When I woke up the next day, listening mortified to the 'tut tuting' of my friend, I had actually forgotten all about the 'other thing', so mission accomplished, for a quarter of an hour or so.

I didn't feel too clever when my brain decided to deliver that kick in the balls reminder on top of the most horrific fear I had from calling the barman a 'bender' over Sean fucking Bean the night before. Class few days in Yorkshire.

[Paul keohane]

Went on an absolute royaler on shorts one night years back ,ended up wrestling on the floor of my local chipper (the chipper informed me of this the next day when i went in for a hangover cure),smashed a load of plant pots in the front garden ,and physically dragged my dad out of bed when i got in!.Woke up next morning with no recollection!,have barely touched any spirits since!.

[Caomhaoin]

Spirit abuse invariably leads to that kind of insanity. Two buddies of mine, both docile enough, drinking Captain  Morgan's at breakneck speed at home before the pub, ended up trashing their own house later, rugby tackling each other in the street. Falling asleep quick is a right result if you've been on the nippy sweeties!

[Slaughterday]

That Sean Bean story is fucking quality. There's something about Yorkshire that just inspires serious craic and heavy boozing.

[Eoin McLove]

I think it was 2018 when Malthusian set of for Łodz to play a headline gig there. I ain't a fan of flying but I'm usually grand. The nerves got the better of me that morning in the airport though and I had arrived a bit before Matt and Pauric. Johnny was on tour with Conan so was flying in from wherever he was to meet us at the venue that afternoon. 

I grab a pint and fairly inhale it and am on my second pint when the lads arrive.  Paudi gets a scoop in and Matt is off the sauce that weekend.  Grand job. I proceed to lash into another four or five pints before we get on the plane.  Naturally,  I'm half scuttered and a bit as we take off.  Perfecto.

When we reach cruising altitude the trolly arrives and as had become something of a routine on flights with Malthusian I order 2 Gins and 1 Tonic. Matt says,  you might as well get 4G 2T in now to save the dude coming back around.  Makes sense.  I tell the steward to double it.  He gets a bit confused in the transaction and ends up giving me the lot for half the price.  Matt has willpower but this is an opportunity too good to pass up on.  He orders the same and somehow gets it for the same price! Poor ol P in the row behind gets stung for the full whack, but so what,  the lads are officially ON IT!

I think I ended up ordering the same again but to be honest I can't really remember anything after that round and the next thing I recall is being in the venue.  There are a few hours missing in between.

Johnny lands in to the venue and the three amigos are unable to stand.  He is on tour with a professional band so has been well behaved and just sees the three lads in ribbons and thinks,  what the fuck are we going to do now.

It's all blurry but I remember we get up onstage,  my hands pretty much have stopped working so I turn around to Johnny before we begin to tell him that if I forget a riff I'll just hammer away on E minor and pretend to play stuff with my fretboard hand.  He goes,  Andy you thick cunt,  this is the sound check! We aren't on for five hours!

Happy days.  We run through some kind of a check and I fuck off back stage to crash.  Problem solved. 

I wake up three or four hours later still completely gimped.  Fuck.  We get onstage and it's a haze but I thought I was getting away with it.  At some stage I realise the music has stopped and I look around.  Johnny and Matt are slapping the heads off each other across the drum kit.  Somehow we continue but Matt fucks his guitar down and walks offstage.  In my head at least I'm still keeping the show on the road.  Fuck knows what I'm doing to the guitar at this stage but Matt reappears and unwinds his mic, falls over and starts shouting abuse at the crowd while they all start booing and giving us the finger.

We take our bow.  Łodz, there will be no encore!

The lads who put the gig on think it's the most fucking rock n roll thing they've ever seen and continue to ply us with more booze and somewhere along the way,  acting the cunt on the cobbled dance floor I break my fucking ankle!

A month later we meet up in my gaff to listen to a mix of the album and make notes when Matt and Paudi fill me in on the rest of the plane journey.  Apparently as we were disembarking I tried to bum a smoke off some giant Polish dude and somehow ended up trying you square up to him! They said he was three times my size and would have killed me instantly.  I fell on my hole and they are picking me up when they realise there are a bunch of fucking Polish soldiers standing there watching the entire fiasco.  How I wasn't either deported or murdered I don't know.

I still get the willies when I think about that weekend.

[Caomhaoin]

Jesus fucking Christ lad 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[Emphyrio]

  brilliant

[Paul keohane]

Haha i love these horror stories!

[Kurt Cocaine]

Quality 

[Juggz]

  Class. You can't beat a good gig horror story.

[StoutAndAle]

I think it was 2018 when Malthusian set of for Łodz to play a headline gig there...

Fuckin'-A!

....,and physically dragged my dad out of bed when i got in!

Mother of Christ!



Keep 'em coming, lads. We'll beat this Corona Cunt with The Fear.

[StoutAndAle]

Class. You can't beat a good gig horror story.

I wasn't playing at a gig but I have a mild horror story...

2015. Was in Berlin with the missus and spotted that Elder were playing there the week that we were staying. Touring the excellent "Lore" record.

Had a few pre-gig pints and then wandered into the venue where they were doing Jagermeister shots for €1 and Morgan Spiced and Cokes for €2. Who am I to say no to this sort of thing? It's almost like saving for fuck sake.

My missus isn't into metal but she'll go along and if it's not her thing she'll find a quiet corner and look up interior design stuff on her phone (I'm not joking).

Mos Generator were the support band and they were daycint. When they were done, I popped up from the basement venue to check on herself. Grabbed another tenner's worth of rum and cokes. The support lads had to run the merch stand but they were a bit steamed so they got their guitar tech to do it. I was chatting away to him, nobody was buying merch except me - he was working on guitars at the same time. I was talking through my hole about guitars, pedals and other shit that I think I'm erudite on when I'm half cut. He asked me to watch the stand while he went for a piss/smoke.

"Not a bother" says I.

Gave my missus a wave - she shot back a what in the name of fuck are you up to, you know this won't end well look. This look is always perceptive.

I decide to help your man out and pick up the next guitar that needs to be re-strung. Sober me will always wait and ask to pick up someone's gear. I think it was a Guild S-100 or maybe a Viper. It was an SG style but not Gibson. I play a Gibson SG so I'm used to the set up. Anyway......

I'm pleasantly surprised by the skill and dexterity that Captain Morgan's spiced rum has given me. I have it strung and done just as the lad is coming back from the jacks or wherever.

"Did one there for you, look!"

"Oh, um. Thanks."

"Not a bother, kid" says I as I strut back to the missus. Hear Elder ramping up. Head back downstairs. Pass my new friend at the merch stand who is still admiring my handiwork. Give him an oul devil horns for good measure.

Great show. I climb back up from the basement to find herself and head out. As we're leaving I see the lad still by the merch stand with another guy. They're looking across at me. I give him a wink and the pistol fingers from across the bar.

The tech waves me over. Perhaps I'm getting a free t-shirt for watching the stand and being the best guitar stringer on holiday in Berlin. This will be a great end to the....

"The fuck is this?" asked the lad who wasn't there before?

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you do this?"

Oh, the high horse comes out of the stable. And once I have a lip on me well...

"C'mere. I was helping out your man there, he was bursting for a piss and to be quite frank it was raw fucking form leaving him there on his own. Merch all over the gaff, him trying to do his own job. I was trying to be sound. So you can wind your fuckin' neck back in..."

And then I see it, lads...

I'm a lefty. Guess which way I've strung the guitar? 

[Trev]

Went over with a friend to Munich for a Manowar gig, maybe around 07/08. Typical few morning airport pints to get going, another one or two on the plane, then when we got there realised there was a bit of miscommunication issue and we both thought the other one had sorted out a place to stay. No bother though, hit the Hoffbrau Haus for a few steins, talking to a lad there and he recommended a hostel nearby that had a bar attached and off we went. The two of us getting pretty mouldy at this stage so went for a kip for a few hours before the gig, wake up, pint and €1 jager shot to keep the hangover at bay and off we went

Things start going to shit at this point when we get to the venue to collect the tickets and they've no record of the reference number, so end up having to buy more. It was a bit pain, but the seats end up being pretty decent. Rake more pints at the gig, vague memories of trying to find a rock bar after the show, getting lost in the subway for ages, eventually finding the hostel and starting on more jager, and then just a complete black out until waking up in the morning, the toilet covered in shit and vomit, and my phone gone.

Sure fuck it I thought, was still half cut so went on to another beer hall to keep going, remembered there was an Ireland match on so headed to an Irish bar, and during the second half started my mate turns to me
"Here what time is the flight back at?
Ah not until 7, we'll head after the match
"Yeah, but it's going to take about an hour to get out on the train, and its 5 now"
Nah, its only 4, we're grand
"It's 4 in Ireland, you never changed the time on your watch"
....fuck....

Queue a mad dash to the airport, still end up missing the flight. Ask the guy at the desk for the next flight back to Dublin, which isn't until 7 the following night. Then my friend has a look at the schedule and in the drunken stupor sees there's one to London early the next morning and goes and books that, because "it'll be way easier to get home from London than Munich", and off we got for a sleep in the airport.

When we wake up the drunk is starting to wear off, and when we get in the plane the fear hits me fucking rough. I'm convinced the thing is going to crash and starting to panic, my mate isn't much better but he's trying to calm me down in case we get kicked off or arrested or something. By some miracle the plane goes find and we land in London and go straight to booking a ride home. At which point we realise nearly all the money was spent getting to London, so we have to beg the lad running the internet cafe (remember those) to let me ring my missus so she can book us flights home. Safe to say she wasn't too impressed, but a few minutes later sends on a text with flight details. From Heathrow. I forgot to tell her we were in Stansted. So we'd another cross city run but manage to make this one.

The hangover has kicked into overdrive at this point, have barely slept in two days, alcohol coming out of every pore, havent eaten in ages, no money to get any food and feeling like utter shit. Eventually made it back home, was politely told by my missus to go fuck myself and sent to sleep it off on the couch. We broke up soon after